Chapter 15
KALLIE
Kallie coughed, spitting out a cool liquid that dribbled down her throat.
"Gods," a nearby voice hissed.
"She needs water," someone else said.
"She'll choke."
"No, she won't," the second individual argued, voice tense and stern.
Kallie tried to take in her surroundings, but when she blinked, black splotches crowded her vision. In the hazy darkness, she could barely make out the two silhouettes hunched over her, their identities hidden. Even their voices were foggy in her ears, distant and undistinguishable.
"Kalisandre," one of the voices beckoned, her name rolling off the man's tongue like a sweet lullaby sung to soothe a temperamental child. "Can you hear me?"
She hummed, her tongue too heavy to voice a response.
"Can you take a sip for me?" he asked gently.
Kallie tried to shake her head in dissent. She was too tired.
"You can sleep after you drink something," one of the men murmured.
His voice was familiar, but when she tried to match it with a face, her stomach twisted, and pain shot through her mind, heat rising in her veins.
"Please drink."
Cold metal touched her lips, pleading for her mouth to open.
She groaned but opened her mouth, allowing the crisp water to pool inside. She lazily swished it around, and when she swallowed, the man put the flask to her lips again.But the cool water did little to sedate the rising fire building within her veins.
There was something wrong--something she should have been doing. Yet she had no energy to act upon it.
The flask disappeared, and the man said, "Now you can rest."
A slight smile tugged at her lips as her eyelids grew heavy once more.
Kallie hurried through the marble halls of the castle with her head down as she bit back the tears threatening to slip free.
She passed several guards and servants who bowed and curtsied at the sight of her, but Kallie ignored them all.
Her father's words were an incessant hiss in her ears: Never let them see you weak. If they see you are too emotional, if they can identify your weakness, they hold all the power.
If they saw her crying, word would get back to her father, which would only worsen matters. She wouldn't let a single tear drop in their presence despite how much her throat seized and her eyes burned.
When she finally reached her quarters, she burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Her back hit the wall, her chest rising hard and fast. And still, even in the safety of her room, she tried to refrain from crying.
If she cried, there would be no denying that her father was right.
But as her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, her knuckles blanching, Kallie could no longer hold the tears back. Immediately, she swatted them away from her face before they could fall and stain the silk corset she wore.
Afraid of someone overhearing her sobs, she pushed herself away from the door and scurried to her bed. She dropped onto the mattress, the plush quilt consuming her.
She quickly snatched a pillow and muffled her sobs. The fabric was soaked in seconds as the tears rushed out, unrestrained. Throat burning, Kallie sat up and tossed the pillow onto the ground, opting to sob into her hands instead.
Soon, the door's hinges creaked open, the high-pitched squeak ripping through the quiet, and Kallie tensed as soft steps hit the floor.
"Leave," Kallie commanded, her voice strained and wobbly as she tried to swallow the cry in her throat.
The footsteps stopped.
When the door clicked shut, Kallie's shoulders sagged in relief. She rubbed her fists against her eyes, the tears smearing across her knuckles.
Through the sobs, however, Kallie heard the faint tap of heels and stiffened once more.
She lifted her head, her hair falling in front of her face. "I told you to--"
"Kals," Myra interrupted, the handmaiden's voice a soft plea.
"I wish to be left alone," Kallie said through her hands. Myra might have been her friend, but Kallie did not want anyone to witness this moment of weakness.
Despite the request, the bed dipped as Myra sat beside her.
"No one should be left alone while they are hurting," Myra whispered. "You are in pain. Let me comfort you." She wrapped an arm around Kallie, tugging her close, and instantly, some of the tension in Kallie's body released.
Still, Kallie fought the comfort offered to her. She tried to shrug Myra off. "I don't need to be comforted. I am fine," she insisted.
Myra only pulled Kallie closer.
Kallie inhaled in an attempt to extinguish the trembling that had overtaken her body. Notes of lavender and mint wrapped their sweet aroma around her.
She took another breath, focusing on the scent, allowing it to pull her mind elsewhere.
After a few more steadying breaths, Kallie relented as if a deep part of her needed her friend's presence. Kallie peeled her hands from her face, then wrapped her arms around Myra, leaning into her embrace despite knowing she shouldn't.
"You push yourself too much, Kals."
Kallie bit her lip, then released it. "I have to, Mys."
With a delicate hand, Myra brushed a strand of hair from Kallie's cheek. "One day, it will get better."
She almost laughed. "When?"
Myra did not respond, for they both knew there was no clear answer.
Myra squeezed Kallie, and her handmaiden's mere presence was enough to soothe the ache in Kallie's chest and dry the tears upon her cheeks.
As they sat, Kallie's breathing steadied, the trembling settled, and logic returned.
Her father pushed her because he knew Kallie could take it. He pushed her to make her better. The intense training, the grandiose speeches about plans and sacrifices, the assignments--they were all to make Kallie become the best she could be.
She was enough and would make her father proud.
Even if it was the last thing she did.
Light beamed above her, bright and stabbing. Kallie tried to peel her eyes open, but her head pounded from even the smallest twitch of her muscles.
Soft voices floated above her.
"It has to be done," a woman added.
"If we do this, he will be mad," a man said.
"It does not matter. We can't risk--" the woman gasped. Then louder, she called out, "She's awake!"
Shuffling sounded, and then Kallie felt a hand upon her chin, tilting her head upward.
Kallie groaned, swatting the hand away from her face.
"Eat," the man commanded.
For a second, Kallie thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Because by the gods, that face made something move within her.
But she was wrong.
She had to be wrong.
He wasn't here. He couldn't be.
The hand pried her mouth open, and she felt a spoon slide into her mouth. She had no energy to fight them despite how demeaning it felt. She was utterly exhausted, so when sleep called for her again, she happily obliged.