Chapter 12
Chapter
The following days, I wanted Aidenar to show more progress. His movements were still wild, filled with energy but lacking direction. I waited for him in the gallery. The air hung heavy with heat, and sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching in swirling motes of dust.
He entered, smiling as always, but when his silver eyes met mine, his expression turned uneasy.
“Before we begin,” he said, walking closer, “I must make an official request.”
I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth lifting in a curious smirk.
“Would you… refrain from threatening Lady Velena?”
I blinked, then burst out laughing. “You must be joking.”
“I wish I were.” He sighed theatrically, as if already weary of the subject. “She was truly distraught. I had to endure her whining for so long. Do you know what torment that is? No one shall ever give that time back to me.”
He said it with mock gravity, though a trace of amusement curled his lips.
“She’s the one who needled me,” I replied with a shrug. “As far as I’m concerned, she can be dead to me and I’d prefer it to remain that way.”
Aidenar rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand. She can be… jealous. But I had to make the formal request.”
I glanced up through my lashes, “Is she not jealous that you sleep with her friends?”
His grin turned roguish. “There’s nothing official between us, only our parents’ wishes. Besides…” He hesitated, as if weighing his words. “It wasn’t the brightest idea to… consort with them”
I lifted my hand to cover my face before he could continue. “Spare me the details, Cavareth.”
“I won’t lie, Jasmine had… sizable assets,” he said, “but one could not survive her company for long.”
“End this conversation, or I swear I’ll walk out,” I snapped, taking a step toward the door.
He laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender, standing ready for training. He had no idea what awaited him. I seized one of the old tomes and hurled it straight at him.
He barely dodged it in time and the book fluttered through the air, scattering pages. His grin faded, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.
“What is wrong with you? I’ve stopped talking!” he shouted, bewildered.
I didn’t give him time. Another book flew his way. He deflected it deftly with his hand, as if he’d done it all his life.
“Is this some islander way of courting?”
I threw again. This time the book hit him squarely between the legs. He doubled over with a sharp breath, clutching himself.
“What in all hells?” he hissed through his teeth.
“Use your power to defend yourself!” I barked. “If you can’t block a book, how will you dodge an arrow?”
Another book sailed through the air. This time, he deflected it with a burst of wind. The tome spun past his head and crashed against the wall.
“Throw. One. More. And you’ll regret it,” he warned, still bent, his voice low and serious.
That did not stop me. I raised another tome, larger this time. He saw the motion, and in the span of a breath, he was at my side. His hand caught my wrist, his other arm circled my waist, pinning me in place.
He was close. So close that I felt his breath against my cheek, the scent of lavender and rosemary clinging to his skin.
“Raise another book,” he murmured near my face, “and I’ll lay you across my knee and spank you until you won’t know whether you hate it or crave it.”
I looked up at him, startled. Then smiled, wide and defiant.
“That’s not the reaction I expected,” he muttered, half amused, half unsettled.
“I’m not amused by your foolish threats,” I said calmly, though a spark of excitement laced my tone. “Did you notice how quickly you reached me? You stood ten feet away, and in a heartbeat, you were here. You used air to move. Without even realizing it.”
He frowned slightly, surprise flickering in his silver eyes. His grip softened, and for a moment I sensed pride, or maybe curiosity, stirring in him.
“You can let me go,” I said evenly. “I won’t throw anything. For now.”
He released me, slowly, as if unsure whether I’d strike again. Then he stepped back, straightened his shirt, and rubbed a hand over his hair, trying to mask the bewilderment lingering in his expression.
“We’re changing the plan for today,” I declared, slipping back into my teacher’s tone, though my pulse still raced. “We’ll train outside. Strike while the iron’s hot. Is there a place we can use?”
He nodded, still slightly dazed. “The old orchards behind the palace.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
The rest of the day we spent trying to awaken his new ability. It went poorly. He could not repeat what he’d done. Could not summon that impossible speed again.
He ran back and forth forever, between the trees, growing more frustrated with every failed attempt. At last, his shirt clung to his skin, and he pulled it off, tossing it onto the grass.
My gaze betrayed me. His chest was lean and sculpted, each muscle moving with effortless grace as he sprinted.
His flat stomach with curved muscles that were leading to one and only thing I didn’t want to think about.
I forced myself to look elsewhere. The rustling leaves, the sting of sunlight on my skin, the rough bark beneath my fingers.
Anything but him. Gods, pull yourself together, Nerissa!
Still, he could not harness the wind. I sighed, leaning against an apple tree, deciding it was time for a new motivation.
When he turned his back, I snatched an apple and hurled it at him. It struck squarely between his shoulders.
He froze, his muscles tensing, and turned to face me. “You must be joking,” he said slowly and coldly.
I only smiled—a sly, wicked smile. All other methods had failed. I would not waste the whole day here. I grabbed another apple and threw it straight in his direction, then darted away.
He caught me in a single gust of air. But failed to control it. We tumbled to the ground together, breathless, tangled in limbs and heat.
He lay atop me, his bare skin slick with sweat. His breath came hard, his silver eyes gleaming like molten metal as he stared into mine. He didn’t move. He only looked, as if studying every line of my face, fighting something within himself.
My ginger hair spilled across the grass, my shirt had come undone, and the day’s heat thickened the air between us.
I felt him harden against me, pressing into my hips.
The worst part was that my own body betrayed me.
A shiver ran down my spine. All over. He sensed it.
A low laugh rumbled from his chest as he watched the flicker of panic in my eyes.
“You have no shame,” I whispered hoarsely. “Save it for your whores.”
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice low, velvety, almost purring. “I won’t force you into anything. Though I can feel your body wishes otherwise.”
Fury flared through the haze of desire. Fury at myself, at him, at how easily he read me. I shoved him off with all my strength. He rolled onto his back and burst into laughter.
I sat up, breathless, adjusting my hair and shirt with trembling hands.
“Don’t act so holy,” he teased, still sprawled in the grass. “Don’t you have your own desires?”
His gaze burned, and my cheeks burned hotter. “None of your concern, Cavareth.”
His grin turned positively wicked. “I know your type. You fancy those tattooed sailors. Rough hands, beards, the smell of salt and sin. That’s your kind.”
“Shut up.”
“Come now, Veymaris,” he drawled, propping himself on an elbow. “Give me a hint.”
I snatched another apple and threw it, but he deflected it with a lazy sweep of air. The fruit rolled away in the grass.
“Lesson’s over,” I hissed, turning on my heel toward the palace.
His laughter followed me long after, echoing among the trees.
Between searching for transport contracts in the city, I also visited various local medics. But none of them could help with Alaric’s illness.
Some tried to push strange remedies on me, foreign oils, unknown herbs. Others offered earth amulets for protection, swearing they would ward off whatever plagued him.
Perhaps it truly was time for prayers to the gods, since nothing else remained.
I decided I would visit the palace medical wing again.
If no one there wanted to help me, then I would look through those books I’d seen there myself. Maybe I would find something.
When I entered the same white chambers once more, they were no longer quiet.
Medics moved between pallets and beds, their robes brushing stone floors. The air carried groans and muffled cries. You could feel in the nose the sharp scent of blood, rot and decay.
There were more sick in White City now. Far too many.
No one paid me any attention, the old medic I had once spoken with passed me without recognition. I turned toward the shelves when a warm voice stopped me.
“May I help you?”
I turned and saw a beautiful woman. Long dark hair was tied in a tight braid. Her amber eyes looked at me with concern. She wore gray robes like the other medics and had many small Elementars on her.
“I…” I hesitated. “It is nothing urgent. I seek help for my brother.”
“Where is he lying?”
“Nowhere here. He is in Thalrock,” I said. “I am searching for a cure.”
Curiosity flickered in her eyes.
“Come with me,” she said. “I must cleanse my tools. I will listen to you.”
After a moment, as if realizing I was from a Family she added formally “My Lady.”
“Call me Nerissa.”
“I’m Selene. Come”
We went to a smaller chamber. Selene carried a basin filled with bloodied, tarnished instruments. The room was cramped, crowded with bandages and jars of remedies. A small stove burned in the corner, pots of water simmering atop it.
She washed each tool in turn, then placed it carefully into the boiling water.
“So tell me,” Selene said. “What is wrong with your brother?”
“Several years ago,” I began, “his strength began to fail without warning. His bones ached with every movement. His muscles betrayed him, as if something were draining the life from his body. Now he barely walks. A few steps through the palace exhaust him. Most days, he sits.”