CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Being a grating individual runs in Everest’s blood.
Cyrus takes immediate command over the fair, and it’s apparent that Everest isn’t nearly as omnipresent as he could be if he wished.
The conscious god is everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.
He’s at the river, churning time, he’s at dinner, gorging on a sickening amount of cotton candy.
He’s at the archives, terrorizing Cillian, in Everest’s tent, and outside of it as he waits for a report on the efforts to return the objects I have, in his words, “hoarded like a goblin.”
Thankfully, the one place he doesn’t go is inside the carousel.
The six trips I take over the course of the week to return artifacts are with Beam and Ender, and with the exception of Beam’s residual annoyance with me, it’s nice having our crew back together.
The fair is making its recovery too – all regular operations have been resumed, and it’s returned to playing all sorts of tricks on Cillian.
We take the axeman home, check on Iris, whose arm has stopped disappearing, and keep tabs on the ages and locations of all resident ghosts.
Every spare second, I’m by Everest’s side, waiting.
Just like Cyrus said, though, his brother wakes up in precisely one week – a week that felt decades long. I’m polishing Everest’s precious telescope, distraught at the amount of dust that has collected over the mount, when the ghosts gasp.
“Do I owe my consciousness to a kiss from you?” Everest rasps, drawing a laugh from Beam, whose head is barely an inch away from his. Her arms wrap around his neck, and I shudder from the chill he must be suffering, but to his credit, Everest only flinches the tiniest amount.
Beam pulls away as Ender begins pacing along the foot of his bed. “You worried us all to death. Ryka hasn’t left your tent in–”
I clear my throat, except it sounds more like I’m hacking up a lung. Everest’s head swivels to his right, and something in him relaxes at the sight of me, a cloth in my hand, dust clinging to my flushed cheeks.
“Ryka has been taking care of all your ornaments while you’ve been drooling into your pillow,” I say, putting down the fabric and dusting off my hands.
He still looks wan, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have to hold onto my balance for dear life at the sight of his partly opened eyes.
This insolent, infuriating fool has had me on the verge of a nervous breakdown for the last one hundred and sixty-five hours and counting.
Sure, most of it is exhaustion from all the time travel, but it’s all I can do not to cry.
Cyrus’s assurance was barely a Band-Aid over an exposed nerve rubbed raw.
Everest cocks his head. “Have you been worrying about me?”
So he’s awake enough to be a pest. I take a menacing step forward, finally allowing the floodgates of pain and rage to open wide. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I can kill you myself.”
He has the audacity to look surprised. “What do you mean?”
I have to fight to keep from yelling. I’m acutely aware that his blood vessels are still dark and sludgy as sticky mud, that his neck is barely holding up his head. The golden ore of his eyes is dull, and noticing all these details about his deteriorating condition only enrage me further.
“Don’t act daft,” I say. “I’ve been polishing metal and racking my brain for what kind of ill-founded decisions you’ve been making to end up in this position!”
“She has been cleaning a lot,” Ender says, studying his nails.
Beam chimes in. “You had a very thick layer of dust over your vintage binoculars. Ender wouldn’t stop sneezing.”
Everest’s jaw unhinges. “Did all that dust travel up your nose and cloud your brain, because before this very unfortunate incident, I caught you stealing from time!”
I grit my teeth. “We’re talking about you right now.”
To my shock, Everest sits up, wincing at the movement, but he’s too wound up to be stopped.
“If we’re talking about me, then we’re talking about you.
Do you even know what could have happened to you in there?
You lost the end of the string, and if I hadn’t come across the carousel in that very moment, if Quill hadn’t told me–”
“I’ve had the last week to think about it, thank you very much,” I say, growing more heated. “And I’ve had to hear about it from everyone else already.”
Everest’s louder than he has any right to be, considering his fragile state. “Everyone else didn’t have to realize where you’d gone. Everyone else didn’t have to stumble into the carousel, tracing the imprint of you, searching through time and space.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Do you want a ‘thank you’? Is that it?”
“That would be nice,” Everest shouts, and I hate the way the rise in his voice sends a ripple of pain through his body.
“Thank you!” I yell. “Now tell me what the hell you’ve been doing.”
Everest turns to Ender, who holds his hands up in resignation. Neutral party; smart boy. “Why should I, when you’ve told us nothing?”
“What on earth is going on in here?” Geneva says, flying into the tent. Keshav is only a few seconds behind her. The look she gives Everest and I could slice the mountains into pancakes.
“Could you not have left me with a nicer welcoming party?” Everest asks Geneva.
Geneva scoffs. “I couldn’t have removed her from your tent even if I tried.”
A suspicious look of joy spreads through his face. “Yes, someone please tell me how much she’s fussed over me.”
“Shut up,” Geneva and I say in synchrony.
She then turns her wrath on me. “And you. What are you thinking, screaming at him in this state? Go take a walk or yell at the other one if you have to, but all fighting needs to be put on hold while he recovers.”
I bite down on my lip. She’s right, and it hurts because I know that, but my worry has manifested into an ugly thing. Even now, Everest’s eyes flutter as though he’s barely able to keep them open.
But they are open.
And that’ll have to be enough for now.
“What other one?” Everest asks warily.
“Cyrus is here,” I tell him, waving outside. “He’s probably with Calliope right now.”
Everest tenses for a split second before he bursts into a smile. God, if the sight of it isn’t a punch to the gut. “Is he plotting a takeover of my role?”
Beam giggles. “I think he secretly hates us.”
“It’s not a secret, you dodo,” Ender says.
“Well you can tell him I’m awake,” Everest says. “I’m sure he’ll want to talk my ear off as well.”
“I wonder everyday what crimes I committed to end up stuck here with the two of you,” Geneva bemoans. Keshav stifles a smile as he rubs his hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture.
“It’s all about perspective, Geneva.”
We all turn to find Cyrus watching us from the entrance. His gaze falls squarely on his brother. “So nice of you to join us.”
Everest struggles to sit up, but Valentin is there, supporting his arm. “I was having such lovely dreams.”
“Only you would call fever dreams lovely,” Geneva says.
“Why wouldn’t he, when it gives him a reason to not do his work?” Cyrus says. All at once, the humor and levity in the tent fades to something cold. The jest is gone from the other god’s face. Beam and Ender look nervous, shifting out of the path Cyrus takes to walk towards Everest.
“You’ve been irresponsible,” Cyrus says, so quietly that my hackles raise.
Everest forces a smile. “What fun is life without a little irresponsibility?”
“One where you remain functional and don’t require me to swoop in here because your out-of-control keeper was about to bring down the carousel,” Cyrus says.
Everest glances at me, questioning, but I’m beyond providing explanations right now.
“If you have a problem with my actions, you can talk to me,” I say, marching towards Cyrus, who dismisses me with a flick of his hand.
“You’re his responsibility too.”
I put my body between Everest and Cyrus. “I am no one’s responsibility.”
“That is precisely the problem. My brother has forgotten how things are supposed to be run here. I thought I warned you that your foolish efforts–”
“Are nobody else’s business,” Everest says firmly.
I look back at him and it’s stark, how clearly he wears his distress.
I don’t know if it’s only because I know him so well, or if Cyrus can see the tick in his jaw from the way he chews his inner lip when he’s upset.
Everest’s knuckles are white, glistening under a sheen of sweat that’s gathered on his skin.
He’s only just woken up, and he’s barely clinging to consciousness.
Cyrus lets out a hollow laugh, oblivious to his brother’s plight. “I’d say they’re absolutely everyone’s business.”
“Enough.” I grab a hold of Cyrus’s wrist. He’s so shocked that I’ve laid a hand on him that he barely resists as I drag him outside the tent. I’m shaking in the cold air, wishing that I’d grabbed a shawl before stepping out, but I can’t allow these two to occupy the same space for any longer.
Once we’re a few safe steps away from the tent, I let go of his hand.
“How dare you–”
“No, you listen to me.” I’ve had enough of him prancing around like he knows the first thing about this place.
“While you are here, you are a guest. You do not get to speak to anyone at the fair this way, and especially not your brother. I don’t know what kind of fucked up dynamic you all have going, but it won’t fly here, and no one, not one single person or ghost will stand for it. ”
Cyrus scoffs, but when he sees that I’m very clearly not joking, he grows serious and takes a menacing step in my direction.
“I don’t know who you think you are, keeper, but you’ve barely been here for one of my heartbeats and you’ve already done more damage than good.
Between the two of you, things here are precarious at best.”