Chapter 10 #3
Out of all the potential obstacles I’m going to run into as I plan my escape, I already know he will be the most difficult.
“How do you fare this morning?” Avonde asks, once again startling me.
The sorceress is in a white tunic and pants, which have dirtied, most likely from fighting.
She crosses her arms, taking me in. Her eyes, too, catch on my boot.
She raises her brows and tilts her head, looking at me curiously.
I almost fold and say something stupid back, but she waves me over and turns back to the courtyard.
I will regret this but I reluctantly follow. I have to.
“Fine. So, you fight?” I say, breaking up the uncomfortable silence. She leads us to the pavement, picking some weapons from the ground and reracks them.
“I do,” she says almost cautiously. “As is customary for all cess.”
My eyebrows raise at that. I’m a supposed cess.
“Yes, that means you as well.” She leans against one of the racks, now fully facing me.
The light directly hits her face. She’s looks slightly older than me.
Her dark skin sweats in the sun, causing a glow.
Her curls and braids are up in an unruly bun, a few wisps of them frame her face. She’s truly beautiful.
“As much as I have gratitude for the sentiments, I wanted to do something else with you today.” She smiles and crosses her arms.
It takes me a moment to process what she just said.
“Wait, how can you do that?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“Read my mind,” I press. The invasion of privacy in this place is uncomfortable.
“I’m cess,” Avonde answers, walking closer to me. I remember that’s supposed to answer the question, but I roll my eyes.
“Well, let us begin,” the healer says flipping her palms up to the sky.
“Begin with what?” I say, staring at her like she’s a madwoman.
Avonde looks towards the heavens, sighing. “Your way to health. The physical form. Just put your palms face up.”
With hesitation, I flip my hands, eyeing her. Whatever trick this is, I won’t fall for it. But I have to stop thinking this way. They say I am cess and vampyr, and a small part of me that is ever-growing does believe them. But is this how they would treat a healing patient?
“Think of that odd spark in your hand when you touch the doorknob of the cottage. It’s foreign and fleeting,” Avonde says. “Try closing your eyes and visualize that spark.”
I close them and wiggle my fingers, only abiding to entertain her and to hopefully help her forget I was sort of fleeing.
“For some of us, we see it as a small candle flame. For others, it’s a bolt of lightning. But we can visualize the essence of our magic as it courses through us,” she says, her voice filling my ears.
I press my lips together, trying to conjure up the smallest image of a flame.
I get nothing.
“It’s not going to work for me,” I say. What I don’t say is: “This isn’t going to work for me because I am not truly Elivienne and I am not sure how to be vampyr or cess. I feel like a lousy human who cries when she gets a splinter.”
“Try harder,” she urges.
I continue to focus and surrender to this game.
Every muscle in my body is tense as I attempt to imagine whatever it is I’m supposed to be imagining.
Slowly, my mind drifts and I think of last night.
The blood that splattered the floor. The aching in my teeth.
The smell of it as it pooled against the wall.
Something cool touches my palms. I flick my eyes open.
Avonde has laid a sword in my hands, the metal sparks against my skin.
I jump, nearly dropping the weapon. Its weight catches me off guard.
“What’s this?” I wrap my fingers around the metal, which continues to shock against me. My cotton dress must be causing static.
“Come at me,” she says, an equally sized blade in her hands now. She gets into a defensive position, eyes drilling into me.
I really, really don’t want to do this right now. My muscles ache even as I hold it at a relaxed position at my side.
But I cannot ignore the little pops between my fingers and the hilt of my sword. The prickling sensation doesn’t stop. The metal acts as a conduit for this weird current coming from me and I roll my shoulders back.
Avonde motions with her hand.
“I’m not going to come at you,” I snort.
Seriously, I’m ready to mope in the cottage again. Tomorrow will be more successful as I’ll remember to avoid this side of the castle.
Avonde lunges forward just as she had with Cedric. Quickly, I jump back, sucking my stomach in to barely miss the point of her blade. My eyes heat up as I realize she just tried to stab me.
“What in the Gods are you doing?!” I yell, slowly trying to lift the sword. My arms shake as I barely get it to waist height.
“You can feel that power surge. I know you can,” she says, eyes trained on me. “The faster we get some of that power back, the faster we get your mind back.”
“My mind is fine the way it is!”
Avonde kicks her foot out, planting it on my chest and throwing me back. I fall to the ground, the air in my lungs escaping me. I stand back up, raising the sword a little higher. We begin circling each other. I have never fought in my life.
“I see your boots. You think you’re strong enough to run away into the woods?” Avonde cuts, anger presenting itself in her tone. “Well, you’re not,” she answers herself. “Now swing your blade.”
I pause, unsure of how to even swing such a heavy object skilfully. Noticing my apprehension, the sorceress brings her blade down above my shoulder. Upon instinct, I throw my sword up and deflect the blow. My muscles scream as the sword drags its edge on the pavement.
“Good,” she says, noticing the weariness of my gait. I sway a little, letting the sword drag as I try to right myself.
“That’s one way to dull a blade.”
To my left, Sawyer comes out from one of the castle doors. My heart races as I take him in. He walks so proud and confident, his grin beaming as he approaches me. The sword clatters to the ground.
“Avonde,” he says, nodding at her. She ignores him. I turn away from him, bending to grab my blade.
On the scale of trust, Sawyer falls very, very low in the trenches. I reach and pick my blade up again in an attempt to ignore him. He walks directly to me.
“You seem well,” he says as he inspects my face. I nod, averting my gaze. I know we’re being watched so I don’t speak.
“There is nothing wrong with speaking to me, Liv.” He looks over his shoulder and leans towards me.
“Thinking of leaving? I doubt the woods are guarded heavily tonight,” he whispers.
I also check over my shoulder knowing Avonde can sometimes hear my thoughts, but I doubt she can hear us from where she is, polishing a dagger.
“I don’t trust you,” I whisper back. “As a matter of fact, who are you? Though you obviously won’t answer that.”
“I’m happy to answer those questions. You want an easy answer?”
I nod.
“We’re more alike than you think. We both want to be free of these chains. Court, the castle, everything. We were friends.”
Friends.
“You do a good job of appearing like you hate it here. So, what does that mean? You want me to run away with you?” I mock, moving away. This is insanity.
Sawyer grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him roughly. “Yes, but it’s still a risk,” he murmurs back. His mind seems elsewhere. Sawyer trails down my arm and grabs my hand, lightly grasping it as his eyes meet mine.
All over again, my legs weaken as I stare at him. The man who cared for me, cherished me, kissed me.
Some of that had to be real.
“And if I wanted to leave tonight?”
In a hushed tone I can barely pick up he replies, “I would aid you and we would flee. Together. Trust me or not Liv, but I am your best bet to get out of here.”
“You’re the prince,” I retort.
“I have little to no power here. Believe me. We can board the next ship from a warm water port and be across the Harren Sea in a month’s time. Anywhere you want, we will venture.”
I consider his words. “Let’s leave right now, then.” Sawyer drops his head, shaking it. I grab his hand tighter, tugging on it.
“Why? Why not now?” I urge, frustration growing deep in my throat. Sawyer looks over his shoulder to Avonde, who has now directed her attention to us.
“I shall see you at dinner,” Sawyer announces. “Lady Elivienne,” he adds on. He drops my hand and turns to Avonde again, briefly nodding as he walks back into the castle.
Sawyer departs and I prop the sword on its rack, noting Avonde’s attention. I can feel her stare on the back of my neck, but I shake it off and head back to the cottage.
Thoughts run across my mind quickly and I consider every version of this scenario.
Who to trust, who not to trust. Cedric is committed to my health and has a protectiveness to him, which is commendable.
Two years is a long time apart if what they say is true, and I can sense a growing distance from him, which may not be a bad thing. He wants to heal me. But then what?
His brother, the man I thought I knew, similarly elicits withdrawals.
He appears invested in my wellbeing, though I know this is hardly trustworthy.
I was close with him where we were before, but I have no desire to explore that with anyone further.
Why water dead flowers? My health is the priority and the only way I can focus on it is through safety. Sawyer can afford me safety from here.
When I think of the world and everything I don’t want to miss, I intuitively know that Sawyer can give me that.
Experience, travel, culture, growth. As of right now, I don’t trust that our future holds the relationship I thought it once would, even if my feelings still linger.
But he can get me away from here at least.
The cottage’s view is something I commit to memory one last time. They left me alone before, let’s hope they repeat that notion tonight.