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Chapter 46.1


Heading to Belcliff was not a short trip. Unlike Daedalus, with his horse-drawn carriage, I had to go on foot, avoiding travelers on the main road, to arrive at my destination. The journey, while not especially difficult, took several hours. I did not arrive in the city until the suns had gone from the sky and the night had chilled. By Aelurus’ moon, I wagered it to be close to midnight when my boots met the paved streets.

This was only the second time I had ventured into Belcliff, and I felt no more at ease this time than the last. It had been over a year since the mayhem that had beset the city had taken place, and yet it did not feel fully recovered. Wanted posters for Syria, Lethia, and even myself and the others, could still be seen posted at almost every corner.

Elmiryn would have been annoyed to learn that her bounty was less than Quincy’s.

What irked me, was that somehow, someway, the frivolous nicknames she had given herself and I way back in Tiesmire had stuck. Beneath our illustrated faces were the villainous monikers, “The Twin” and the “The Ghost”. What would have been further disheartening to the woman, was not the fact that they had drawn her ears too big and her eyes too close together… but rather, that they hadn’t tried at all.

The whispers in the alleys and taverns explained some of it. Daedalus had related the rest.

The sad fact was, no one could remember exactly what Elmiryn looked like. Only that she was a woman. Only that she was a Fiamman. And only that she was associated with the rest of us. Not even her fiery hair managed to stick out in anyone’s mind. Her wanted poster was a generic outline of some vague female shape that could have been anyone. The Ghost seemed a hauntingly appropriate outlaw name for her, but not in the way she had originally meant it. No one–not myself, Paulo, or even Daedalus, who hardly knew Elmiryn–thought it wise to inform her of this.

The universe was rejecting her, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

Like most of my recent attempts at escaping my problems, Belcliff was proving to be a poor distraction. The city was just… depressing. Especially at night, when all of the vagabonds crept out.

I pulled my borrowed cloak just a little tighter around me as I slipped into a tavern called Fox Tails. It was like any other drinking establishment, but what made this one special was that Daedalus had informed me of the sort of clientele it attracted. As a rule we had all agreed on, I could not approach the same seller as Paulo had last utilized. The point was to avoid attention. That meant no solid connections, no single strong possibility of identification and exposing the others. Broader and more ephemeral contacts was the only way we’d be able to stretch out our recuperation.

Challenging, considering our access to resources were finite.

“Which means,” Daedalus had warned us all with a severe glare, “That your time here is severely limited! Sick or not, you will have to leave this region soon. Perhaps even this continent entirely! You are not safe here. Not at all.”

Trying to ease my mind of its tension, I made a rare and perhaps ill-advised choice.

I sat at the bar and ordered the hardest drink available. In this case, it was ‘fire whiskey’ to which, when I inquired as to the strength of the drink, the bartender sniffed in obvious disdain and growled through silver teeth, “We drink it for the mad, and we drink it for the moody. Tis more than enough for the likes of you!”

He brought me a small mug, which annoyed me, but when I took a swig of my drink, it burned. Not just in the way of liquor–it really felt like fire. I coughed, just managing to keep from choking outright, and the bartender smirked at me knowingly. I pushed my gold at him without meeting his eyes. Rather, it was Quincy’s gold. She’d retrieved a healthy scoop of it from her bottomless bag, and while there appeared to be much of it (if Paulo’s envious grumblings were any indication) I hardly thought that the wizard would appreciate her funds being utilized in such a way. Fortunately, she wasn’t here to harp at me about it.

I took a large swig, still skeptical of how far the drink would get me… and promptly choked. I think even a little smoke curled from my burning mouth.

Fire whiskey indeed.

Did I truly need this? The question nettled me, even as the drink’s warmth pooled heavy into the pit of my abdomen. It was simple fact that one couldn’t sit in a tavern without a drink and fail to draw unwanted eyes. But was such a powerful drink necessary? No. Of course not. I couldn’t even manage to lie to myself.

I was taking a page straight out of Elmiryn’s book. To help ease my nagging guilt, I reasoned that unlike my wayward lover, I wasn’t doomed with a curse to turn me insane.

Small comfort, Kali growled behind my eyes.

“Don’t start,” I muttered aloud.

I’ll allow you your sloppy escape, sister, Kali said with her figurative back to me. But there is a limit to what I put up with. I do not enjoy this drunkenness, and I will not suffer a hangover for your sake! At any rate, I grow restless. My time in the world draws near, I think.

I closed my eyes in suffering. “Fine,” I sighed. Having a separate conscious in my head really was starting to feel like being at the mercy of a landlord these days, despite our improved relationship.

Kali’s concern of over-drinking may have been unfounded, though. I had to make my way through three-quarters of it before it really started to take effect. That… fuzzing of your thoughts, where inhibition takes a backseat to desire. Therian-strength drinks were hard to come by, I supposed. Fortunately, this was an adequate substitute.

With my usual anxieties dulled, I found myself making small talk with those seated next to me.

“Gods!” I exclaimed naively to an elderly prostitute dressed only in a spotty gray slip, “You must be cold! Where are your clothes?”

And to the middle-aged man with cropped hair and massive biceps on my right, “Good grief! if I had a problem I needed dealing with, I suppose I’d know who to talk to.”

To my bewildering good fortune, my less-than-graceful remarks only resulted in laughter and counter-teasing. Whether they knew I meant my words sincerely or not was uncertain to me, even in hindsight. I only know that my apparent new drinking partners clapped my shoulders and continued to humor my clumsy attempts at conversation. My ability to take their taunts with little reaction seemed to endear me to the patrons, and perhaps more by luck than anything else, they were open to my questions.

To the middle-aged ‘gentleman’ next to me, I said, “I am in need of supplies–food, medicine… that sort of thing. I have some coin for the voice that can point me in the right direction with little fuss.”

When his dusky finger indicated a fellow off to a center table (Curious, I thought, that he’d pick such a central spot… Better vantage point, perhaps? Or maybe he doesn’t need the corner because he has guards…) This earned the gentleman a few gold coins. I turned next to the aged prostitute on my other side. Producing more gold and offering a weak grin, I asked her to take a drink to the apparent seller in the middle of the tavern with my regards. If there had been a server in this establishment, I would have utilized them for such a task instead, but apparently, the bartender was content to work alone. It was a small place, after all.

When the prostitute had done as I asked, I made eye contact with the shady seller, and he gestured for me to join him. I did so without hesitation… but with a freshly poured mug of whiskey all the same.

The man I would apparently be doing business with was a confident-looking fellow dressed in silk robes under his course cotton cloak. A human Higashan, if I had to guess his species and race by the way of his dark almond eyes, alabaster skin, slicked back dark hair, and soft round face shape. Still, in this place where patrons made every effort to mind their own business, I couldn’t say that with high certainty. People employed all kinds of tricks to conceal their identities.

“Generosity is rare in a place such as this,” The man said with a neutral expression. “When it does appear, there are usually strings attached. Tell me why I shouldn’t cut these strings now?”

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up, but I managed to keep my voice steady when I said, “Because your purse would lose out on a handsome opportunity.” Then I took a drink… because Sweet Aelurus, it felt like I was trying to make a deal with an alligator who had its jaws around my head.

The man frowned at me. “What is it you think I can provide?”

I wiped at my mouth and sat back in my chair. I gestured around the room. “There are whispers that you are a person who has the means of providing for others who can afford it. Basic supplies, that sort of thing.” I looked him up and down, trying for some bravado. Kali might have been helping in this regard, like a teacher placing a guiding hand over their student’s. “And forgive me for saying so, but it appears you are a man between places. Part of a caravan of sorts, perhaps? You do not have the local color about you. This is to my liking.”

The man’s frown deepened further. His eyes narrowed a portion as he searched my features. I could feel the corner of my lip twitch even as I tried to remain unmoved. Then, suddenly, the man chuckled. It was a silky, but short sound, as if he couldn’t afford to allow even his humor unmeasured.

He extended a well-manicured hand. “I am Soga.”

I took his hand, hoping he didn’t notice the sweat on my palm. “Geld.”

This earned a bemused smile. “Ah… ‘Geld’. The Elvish word for wealth. A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “It gets my point across.”

Soga laced his fingers together as he leaned on to the table. “What has me curious is why such a petite thing such as yourself requires something so rudimentary in such a manner? After all, you make this request from a traveling foreigner, in the middle of the night, at an out of the way bar?” He tsked. “It makes one curious.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I could ask the same of you, sir. Why is a traveling foreigner dressed in such fine silks sitting in an out of the way bar–a bar, I might add, that has a reputation for attracting shady individuals–and entertaining requests from characters such as myself? No. I think questions are best left out of the transaction, don’t you?”

The small smile on Soga’s slim lips took on a hard slant. “Fair argument. But I’m willing to bet you did not expect to find someone of such means as myself. You should know that my business will not be cheap, nor small.”

Now I blinked. The price was not an issue… but if he was suggesting there would be a minimum of items purchased, that was an entirely different challenge altogether. Could I carry it all back without too much attention? A big rucksack I could manage, but certainly not a wagon’s worth.

“Whatever the case, I must insist we do this business swiftly,” I said. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. Gold is not an issue.”

Soga nodded slowly. “Understood. Tomorrow night then–”

“No,” I said with a quick shake of my head. Now I really started to sweat. I can’t stay here overnight! “It must be tonight!”

Now the man was looking at me suspiciously. “My apologies Geld,” he rubbed his chin. “I did not realize your haste was so… urgent. Afraid to stay long in the city, perhaps?”

I clenched my teeth and managed to fight down Kali’s growl. This is too dangerous, sister! She hissed in my head. This man is a jackal! We should find our supplies elsewhere!

If I can secure a deal with him, then we may be able to avoid another trip for weeks, I returned irritably. I cannot afford to miss this chance! What else are we going to find anyway? Some bandit with a crate of moldy turnips to fence?

Trying to conceal my inner exchange, I made a show of patting my fat coin purse, which had previously been hidden beneath my cloak, and started to stand. “My coins find your questions irksome, Soga. We do this tonight or we have no business!”

The surprise was clearly written on Soga’s face at the sight of my carried wealth. “Wait!” he hissed, one hand shooting up in a halting motion. I paused, scowling at him. “Forgive my rudeness. Clearly your needs are great, and you have assured me of your means to make it worth my while… Please, let me pay you in kind,” he beseeched. Then, without waiting for my reply, he motioned to someone on the other side of the bar and stood from his chair.

The jackal tries to play at being a puppy… but his jaws are deadly, and his pack circles you. Be on your guard! Kali warned.

Noted, I thought back to her as I eyed the two large men who approached from two separate tables. My guess that Soga had bodyguards around the bar had been correct, it seemed. Just who was I really dealing with?

Soga made a gesture toward the bar’s exit. “Come, Geld. Let us take you to my wares.”


When Elmiryn had announced her intentions to Paulo, she couldn’t help but be shocked at how swiftly this decision was acted on. As if not trusting her resolve, the boy had escorted her back to the tower to tell Quincy and Daedalus. The wizard and elf appeared pleasantly surprised at the news, but not overly so, which made Elmiryn wary.

“You were going to try and force me to stop whether I wanted to or not, weren’t you?” Elmiryn accused them with a glare.

Quincy smirked back at her. Daedalus only crossed his arms and offered a stony stare.

“Just leave it to us,” Quincy said with what Elmiryn supposed she thought was a reassuring voice. “We already have a plan. It’ll just take about an hour or two to get started.”

“Get started with what?” Elmiryn asked. Her throat felt dry. Where was her drink–?

Oh. Right.

“Just wait outside,” Daedalus ordered impatiently. “Visit Lethia for a moment. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

Elmiryn did as she was told without argument. Perhaps because she was feeling so taken aback by what was starting to happen that she was robbed of all witty retorts.

And so, dazedly, Elmiryn made her way to the barn, where she was relieved to find Lethia was already asleep. The woman stood over her friend’s dozing form, feeling sicker the longer she went without a new beverage to nip her body back in order.

Before she was even aware of her own actions, Elmiryn was wheeling back to the tower, sweat beading on her forehead and her throat tightening itself into a giant knot. “Quincy!” she hollered as she cast her eyes wildly around her. “Daedalus! I think– I think I just need more time!” She peeked haphazardly into the kitchen before turning to go to the study– that’s when she saw the door to the cellar was open. Swallowing with effort, Elmiryn started down the stairs into the dank cellar space. “I think we’re rushing this,” she went on to say. “I think I just need more–” Her voice choked to a stop as she froze at the bottom of the stairs.

Against the back wall, there had been a simple barrel rack of four barrels. This, Paulo and Daedalus had emptied, and were in fact, carrying the last barrel into a corner, where the others were stacked. The rack had been moved aside, leaving more central floor space. In this area, Quincy had drawn what looked like a salt circle with runes chalked around it.

Everyone froze in their activities to stare at Elmiryn, and she stared back. The moment stretched long.

Then Elmiryn turned without a word and ran back up the stairs. She heard Paulo curse.

Quincy yelled, “Stop her!”

The barrel Paulo and Daedalus were carrying hit the floor with a loud thud. Elmiryn could hear the boy give chase behind her as she cleared the cellar entrance. She crossed the small foyer in one long stride, then literally leaped out the open entrance of the tower in a wild bid for freedom. Instinctively, she knew, she had a better chance at escape in the wide open than in the confines of the tower, and the boy was too quick. He was fit and tall. She was weakened and out of focus.

Though in hindsight, her wild jump out the tower entrance was a hopeless attempt at getting away. Especially because, when she hit the ground, Elmiryn fell, skinning her hands and knees. As she scrambled to get to her feet, boots sliding wild in the dirt, she only managed to go forward a scant few feet before she felt Paulo’s body collide onto hers, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

There was a mad rush to disentangle, with Elmiryn fighting to get out from under Paulo, but in her insistence on getting away, he managed to get strong grip on her wrist, wrenching her arm up and out with palm turned backward, his other hand digging the heel of his palm down between her shoulder blades, and his knee into the small of her back. The weight of his body and the leverage on her arm sent Elmiryn into the dirt into such a swift and effective wristlock that under any other circumstances, she would have been impressed. Unfortunately, the boy’s skilled technique went unappreciated.

Elmiryn screamed through bared teeth, blades of grass quivering from her furious breathing. She struggled briefly, one leg kicking in an attempt to twist her body, her free arm trying to push her body up while her torso strained against Paulo’s weight on her. He wouldn’t budge. Tired, she soon stilled.

All the while, Paulo huffed over her, “Easy, lia. Easy.”

“Paulo,” she grunted with effort. “Paulo, let me go!”

“I can’t,” he said. “Not just because I think you’d beat the hell out of me, but also because I know it’s not you talking.”

Elmiryn yelled and renewed her struggles. “Git off o’ me, shithead!”

Paulo twisted her extended arm and wrenched it back, sending pain up and into her shoulder.

“Stop it, Elmiryn!” He barked at her. Then he added with a growl, “Why couldn’t you just wait in the barn like they asked!?”

“You’re gonna trap me down there!” Elmiryn screamed. Half her sweaty red face was coated in the dirt as she spat, “I won’t let you fucking do it! That isn’t what I agreed to!”

“It’s the only way,” Paulo hissed. “Now quit fighting!”

“What are you going to do, Paulo? Huh?” She snarled. She settled back into the dirt, the pain in her shoulder anchoring her senses. Conserve your energy… Wait for your moment… “You can’t hold me here forever.”

“What about you, huh?” Paulo snapped back. “If I freed you, are you gonna run away into the woods like an animal? I won’t let you, lia! You’re doing this!”

Elmiryn heard footsteps along the ground, and soon came Quincy’s voice. “It’s ready.”

Paulo shifted his knee off Elmiryn’s body and took his hand off her back so that he knelt at her side with a two-hand grip on her twisted wrist, likely so that he could turn and speak better. “I’ve got her, but I need–”

“Raaaaagh!” Elmiryn popped up and rolled forward as fast as she could. When Paulo tried to force her compliance by re-asserting his wrist lock, she monkey kicked him in the arm pit with her left foot and, with this new leverage and the added assistance of her other hand, wrenched her trapped wrist free.

Paulo was good, but he wasn’t as experienced and lacked Elmiryn’s well-trained discipline. She felt a fleeting sense of relief at this. She hadn’t completely lost her edge, it seemed.

Quincy started to shout something, but in the scramble Elmiryn couldn’t make it out. Her focus was almost entirely on Paulo who fought hard to win back a dominant position. He grabbed her left ankle with his left hand, but she pulled herself away, leaving him holding only a boot. Now entirely freed, Elmiryn quickly rose to her feet and sank into her fighting stance, shaking fists raised as she eyed both Quincy and Paulo like a cornered animal.

“You aren’t trapping me,” she said hoarsely.

Paulo backed off, dropping her boot to hold both hands up. He didn’t just look worried, he looked… scared? “Elmiryn, we are trying to help you. Remember what you asked of me? You knew you would feel like this. I’m only doing as I promised!”

“Well stop it!” Elmiryn spat. She started to glance nervously from side to side. It occurred to her that she didn’t know where Argos was. Was he in on it too? Would he charge her? “That circle down in the cellar is a containment field, isn’t it!? Just how long are you going to keep me down there, huh? Days? Weeks!? Fuck that!”

Quincy, who had been hovering close behind Paulo, now stepped out into better view. Like the boy, she kept her hands where Elmiryn could see them. “You’re right. We don’t know how long it will take, Elmiryn,” Quincy admitted with slow and exaggerated speech. “But we won’t have a better opportunity to treat you than we do right now.”

“Is that why you tried to trick me down there?” Elmiryn asked. She heard grass rustling on her right. She dared to whip her head in that direction, but she saw nothing. When she looked back at Paulo and Quincy, she thought they looked a little closer.

“We weren’t trying to trick you, lia,” Paulo said, actually looking offended at the suggestion. “But we knew if we gave you too much warning you’d–”

“Run?” Elmiryn interjected with a strained laugh. “You’re gods-damned right!” She heard the grass rustling again on the right, and this time she jumped back, swinging a fist. Did the air ripple in front of her? “The fuck–?”

Something hard and heavy struck her in the side of the head, making her vision ripple and her knees buckle. Elmiryn was of the opinion that she had a pretty sturdy chin when it came to blows, but…

When her vision fuzzed back into view and had the good courtesy of stopping its cartwheels, it was about then that Elmiryn became cognizant of the fact that Paulo was once again holding her down, and Quincy was hog tying her with rope that was spooling out of her magic bottomless bag.

Standing over all of them was Lethia, pale, shaking, and looking anxious. “Er… Sorry, Elle,” the girl said with a wince. She lifted a large rubber mallet with her one arm. “The commotion woke me up and when I saw you and Paulo fighting, I… grabbed a mallet. And hit you with it.” She smiled weakly. “If it’s any consolation, the only reason I hit you instead of him was because you were the only one I could use my magic to sneak up on.”

Che cazzo?” Paulo snapped up at her. “THAT was your only reason?”

Lethia shrugged, only looking a little sorry. “I didn’t know what was happening. Why are you two tying her up?”

Quincy tightened the last knot. “Because, Lethia Artaud… Elmiryn is finally kicking her drinking habit,” she said breathlessly as Elmiryn thrashed and snarled in her new rope binds. “Whether she wants to or not!” Quincy added in a shout down at Elmiryn.

Just as Lethia replied, the ground cracked, her voice came out her right ear in reverse, her stomach dropped, and all she could see was a myriad of searing bright color.

And Elmiryn knew this because she’d ruthlessly pulled at the threads in Lethia’s head, cannabilizing her perception of the world. She’d tried fighting the right way. They were leaving her no choice. She had this raw power, didn’t she? How could she not use it? Consequences be damned. She knew, angrily, that none of them would submit their freedom so willingly, fae-driven addiction or not. Death was definitely preferable.

In fact, she’d almost prefer Meznik finding her again than submitting to their so-called ‘intervention.’

As the others lost their footing over the rising chunks of earth, and the light splintered around Elmiryn’s body to blind them all…as the sound around them defied time, reversing and confusing their minds as to their origin…as the rope that bound Elmiryn undid itself, and thick green shoots of some sort of plant–laying dormant as seeds in the ground all this time until her alien power woke it and hastened its growth–curled from the churning soil and lifted her bodily back upright…

As the horror overcame Elmiryn’s rage and she realized that her fae magic was getting away from her, wrapping the newly grown plant limbs around the others throats, and tugging with mindless need at the glowing threads of life in the weaves of their existence… she knew…

Meznik may very well find her, and it wouldn’t be a moment too soon.


Soga led me to his wares, hidden in a rundown warehouse that looked–to any passerby–completely deserted. The space was mostly empty save for his four large wagons… and even these barely managed to take up a fourth of the dark and musty storage space. In its heyday, I imagined the building had once been filled with overstocked cloth, pottery, oil…

Soga had more men in his employ than I had even guessed. There were at least six other men waiting for us with the wagons. It made me wonder what some of the merchandise might have comprised of, but I knew better than to ask.

At the first wagon, the Higashan merchant loosened the wagon’s bonnet coverings at its rear to reveal bushels of grain, thick animal pelts, and of course– weapons.

“I have storable food, precious skins, and the means to protect it all,” Soga said with a grand sweep of his hand that didn’t match his unvarnished tone of voice. “I also have pickled foods, but they are for… refined tastes. Less the commoner’s day-to-day pantry-fare you seemed to be seeking,” he said with what looked almost like an apologetic half-shrug.

I motioned at the exposed wagon. “May I?”

He glanced at one of his guards standing closest to me, the one with the lantern, then nodded to me. The guard approached with his light to help with my vision.

Using the spokes of the tall wooden wheels, I pulled myself up onto the sideboards to peek into the wagon’s opening. The grains were closest to me. It seemed he had rice and flour, but of the sort I’d never seen before… The rice was white and the grains were long, unlike the short and brown grains so common on the Sibesonan continent. A Higashan import, perhaps? The flour was also not as fine as I expected it to be, though it was white. Suspicious of its quality, my mild inebriation afforded me enough gall to stick my pinky into the lumpy powder and taste it. It turned out it was finer than it looked on the surface, but… it didn’t taste like white flour. It was actually sweeter.

“Coconut flour,” Soga said behind me, sounding amused. I heard scattered chuckles among his men. When I looked back at him, he was smirking. “You see that my stock is not of typical variety. I assure you, this does not take away from its quality. Think of it as a, ah… break from the norm.”

I nodded, a gleam in my eye. “Give me ten pounds of the rice, and five pounds of the flour.” I would be paying a higher price, but quite frankly, I was getting tired of the monotony of flavors I’d suffered these past few weeks. (Tired of the montony, are we? My! How far we’ve come from the days of being happy for a single carrot flower and a dead frog! Kali quipped.) I ignored my sister’s sanctimonious sarcasm and asked next: “And your pickled goods?”

But Soga was not one to lose out on the chance to up-sell. “No new weapons? You seem capable on your own, but I find myself doubtful you’d need so much dry food just for yourself… Surely your compatriots–”

“The pickled foods,” I said firmly.

Soga pressed his lips in a show of dissapointment, but he led me to his next wagon.

We haggled over the prices of his pickled oca, kohlrabi, salsify, and fiddleheads… all vegetables I’d never heard of, but given their similarities to yams, potatoes, and other basic greens, I figured Quincy might be able to manage something with them (the unofficial official cook that she had somehow become). I quibbled over the price for the final jar until Soga, disgruntled and maybe even a little impatient, agreed to throw in a cowhide (clearly the least valuable of his skins) so long as I agreed to either another jar of oca or another five pounds of flour. Unsure of my ability to carry everything without being completely vulnerable to attack by bandits, I reluctantly agreed to the extra jar.

The deal was struck. His men wordlessly began to set aside my supplies. As they did so, I counted out Soga’s gold at a rickety table near the warehouse entrance. Five hundred pieces worth–nearly twice what Quincy probably would have expected, but I was really and truly so sick of eating her grass and lentil soup that I was more than happy to bring in some new ingredients. The cow skin could also serve as the starting pieces of a new outfit to Elmiryn–

I froze, the last coin pinned under my finger as I stared through the table. I could feel Soga’s questioning gaze.

“Problem?” He asked, trying, and failing, to keep the impatient sigh out of his voice.

“Spirits,” I murmured.

“Come again?”

I looked at him, feeling uncomfortable. “You’ve shared much of your merchandise with me, but not all. Have you any spirits?” At his blank look, it was my turn to become impatient. “Liquor, Soga. At least a bottle?”

The man’s brows rose. “Ah! Yes. I do. Forgive me for not mentioning. You seemed to be reaching your limit as to what you could carry.” Soga snapped his fingers, and one of his men went to the wagon furthest into the dark. A moment later, he returned with two armfuls of bottles, all of different shapes and colors.

When they were placed before me, Soga quickly (hurriedly, I even ventured) pointed out what each bottle contained. “We have Fiamman wine, Higashan sake, Indaban rice beer, and the rest is of the local whiskey variety.” He straightened, like he was done, but then looked sharply at the dark blue bottle in the middle, with the crescent moon stopper. “Ah! And Ailuran absinthe. Forgive me. I tend to forget this one. It’s potency has left it in my posession for longer than I’ve liked. Not many can withstand a therian drink, and they make up so little of my clientele.”

I pointed at the wine, sake, and (trying to make it as an afterthought) the absinthe.

But Soga wasn’t fooled. He’d seen the way my eyes had lingered on the Ailuran bottle. I told myself I was buying it for Elmiryn. So that she wouldn’t suffer her withdrawals. But I knew better. That was to be mine alone, and Soga, the keen merchant he was, sensed it.

“Two hundred,” he said.

I balked. “Two hundred! Why these are worth seventy-five at most!”

At that moment, I heard some speaking at the warehouse door, but I didn’t turn to look. So irritated was I at having been seen through, that I was lucky to register the newcomer’s presence at all as I haggled furiously with Soga.

“A hundred!” I spat, throwing the coins down in disgust.

Soga chuckled out as if my offer was hardly worth a counter-offer.

Feeling my blood flush my cheeks and neck, I threw another fifty coins worth onto the table, only now becoming aware of how light my purse was becoming.

Soga smirked at me and crossed his arms. “Two… Hundred.”

I growled at him. Audibly growled, like an angry mountain cat.

Kali pulled at the back of my mind. You are letting your newfound malice get the better of you! We are overstaying our welcome, can you not see? Another buyer comes! Soga is leveraging his shrinking time on you, fool! Accept his offer, or leave now!

I whipped my head around. Who was this new buyer undercutting my bargaining power, anyway? Surely he could wait a little longer!

I froze, feeling every muscle in my body tense.

That mountainous mass of muscles… the studded leather and black fur… the massive saber with red ribbons tied to the hilt… the metal ingots on that sturdy belt…

I was staring straight at Karolek, the metal sorcerer. The bounty hunter. The man who had very nearly bested Paulo, Lethia, and myself a year ago in this very city.

He was the reason Soga had been in a hurry all this time. They must have scheduled an appointment, but me, in my drunken haze, had failed to see what the night was leading to with all my long-winded haggling.

I looked at Soga and said with what sounded less like my ferocious growl from before and more like a sickly mewl: “Two hundred. Done.”

I fumbled to retrieve the required gold. A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned deathly pale. I couldn’t bring myself to turn my head, and even then I could feel Karolek’s gaze, like weights, on the side of my head.

“Now, now!” his boisterous voice said over me. “Do not rush your business on my account!” Did he recognize me? My hood was off, but my face was turned and my hair was notorious for getting in the way. Maybe he didn’t–

Then he leaned down. “We have much to catch up on,” his grip on my shoulder tightened painfully and his voice dropped to a whisper meant only for me. “Nyx, the Twin.”

Back to Chapter 45.3

Chapter 45.3

“I’m cornered in fire so break out the secrets
I hope you know that you were worth it all along
I’m tired, you’re angry, and everyone looks blurry
I love you, I’m leaving; so long

Hey, little one
I’m so scared of what this could have been
I know that today I lost my only friend
My little one

The places I took you, they seem so fucking empty
I have trouble going anywhere at all
Especially my own bedroom
And it stays awake to haunt me
So passed out, blackout, drunk in another bathroom stall

Hey, little one
I’m so scared of what this could have been
I know that today I lost my only friend”1



If I thought I’d be able to leave for Belcliff that day without something stopping me, I was wrong. Standing at the gates with a royal blue bottle was Elmiryn. She leaned against the bars with blank eyes, her unkempt hair loose about her shoulders. I was surprised to see her. Halfway to the gate I slowed, a knot growing in my stomach. In the past few days, we had barely spoken to each other. It was my fault. I avoided her, too afraid of where a conversation between us would lead if I let it go on long enough. Her frustration was almost palpable.

The last we had spoken was yesterday morning. I was coming out of the kitchen just as she was entering the tower from outside. We stopped in the foyer and just stared at each other, the moment stretching far beyond anything comfortable. She had reeked of alcohol. I wanted to believe that it had more to do with her powerful fae addiction, but somehow that felt like a feeble thing to hope for. Resentment smoldered in her eyes, embers of it dancing with her dark madness. Before Elmiryn had held on to some semblance of functionality. In our time apart, that had disintegrated into a rolling mess of stinging paranoia and outlandish humor. Even without our relationship problems, it was hard to speak to her like this.

“Have I disappeared for you too?” she asked in a murmur.

I stared at her, trying to assemble a response. The best I could come up with was, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Elmiryn chuckled dryly. As she turned to enter the stairs down to the cellar, no doubt to get more drink, I could hear her say, “Believe it or not, that’s still an answer.”

Now as I approached her at the gate, her eyes sharpened and rested on me. I slowed to a stop before her, that familiar stink of inebriation tickling my sensitive nose.

“Hello Elmiryn,” I greeted warily. “How are you feeling today?”

She took a moment to take a swig from her bottle before saying with a shrug, “Like nothing.”

I heaved a heavy sigh as my hands found my hips and my gaze fell to the ground. “I take it you needed to speak with me?” I said to my boots.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” I heard her mumble sarcastically.

I glanced at her with a pained expression. “I know I’ve been treating you poorly–”

She laughed. “Ah. Here we go.”

“–And I’m sorry. I know it isn’t fair to you.”

Elmiryn offered a pursed smile. “Fairness? Nyx, I feel like I’ve been tossed into a game in which no one’s explained to me the rules. That’s not just unfair, it’s fucking crazy.”

My eyes squeezed shut. “I know.”

“Do you? Because far as I can see, the only one who seems to hold your attention these days is Lethia.” She spat the name out, making me shoot her a sharp look.

“Please!” I returned with an exasperated laugh. “As if you two acting like sisters when you treated her like just a nuisance not long ago isn’t bizarre–!” I bit back the rest of my words, my mouth wrestling itself closed even as the words fought to erupt from my throat. “Don’t make this about her. This is about us. It’s… It’s not even your fault, it’s me–”

“That is horseshit!” Elmiryn spat, and I flinched.

My eyes met hers. Her pupils were drawn to pinpricks, the cerulean color faded to an almost icy shade. In her lean face, I could see the quivering tension that barely held her anger in check.

“Don’t lie to me,” she hissed. “Not when I’ve been fending off the paint the gods dumped on this ugly world. Not when I’m fighting to keep from unspooling at everyone’s feet. Don’t you fucking lie to me with such weak lines! ‘It’s me, not you?’ You’ve got to be joking!”

I swallowed at the lump in my throat. “Elmiryn, I… I’m trying. I’m trying to get to a point where I can really say what I need to, but–”

“Trying to get where? What secret place do I have to wait for you to make it to before you open your fucking mouth? What did I do to deserve being shut out?” She was half-screaming now. Her hair seemed to writhe and wriggle, taking on more volume as she gesticulated wildly at me. I’d never seen her so out of control, and it killed me.

“Nothing,” I choked out. I could feel the tears pricking my eyes. The alarm at how swiftly my friend, the woman I had cared so deeply for, crumbled apart before me was making me practically nauseous. “You didn’t do anything!”

“So talk to me then!” She shouted, finally pushing off of the gate to advance on me. I backpedaled as she pressed in. “Help me see! Help me understand! I wander around at night staring at the place where I can see your soul’s thread, and all I can hear are the ghosts in the wind telling me to join them! Your voice is gone from my life, and I have no idea why! So what’s stopping me from joining the voices, Nyx? Why fucking shouldn’t I!?”

“I’ll tell you the reason!” I sobbed, circling around her. If I could just get to the gate… “But not now! Please, Elmiryn, not now! Not like this! I know I have no right to, but I must ask you to wait!”

“Wait!?” she screamed, her voice fraying. Either she was unaware of what I was doing, or didn’t care. “Do you think I can just keep treading paint until the will of the gods drowns me in their colors? Look at my hands!” She held one up and I could see it tremble badly. “I’m drinking myself to death just trying to stay afloat in this world, and in a few hours I’m going to be on all fours, puking up the art of heaven again! I am unwelcome here, and no one else even comprehends what I’m going through! Do you give a shit at all!?”

“Of course I do!” I protested with anguish. My feet stilled, and for a moment I forgot what I’d been trying to do. “Elmiryn, please try to understand that I still care for you!”

Then it happened. A loud metallic wrenching sound behind me. I whirled around to see the gate doors had been mangled and wrenched aside, like a pair of giant invisible hands had crushed them in a strong grip. I looked at Elmiryn, stunned.

Her eyes had become dilated and her face drawn. Her hair was suspended in the air, in a floaty dreamy manner, almost as if she were underwater. There was a static energy in the air, and my nausea doubled, forcing a powerful gag reflex from me.

This was unnatural power. Tainted magic.

Then her eyes returned to normal, her hair fell limp to her shoulders, and the energy choking the air vanished. For some reason, my ears rang. Elmiryn stumbled away from me, half-raising her bottle as if to drink from it, only to let it fall sloshing at her side again. Just before she turned to walk away, tears fell from her eyes.

Stonily, she said, “I can’t tell what you really mean anymore.”

“Nyx, what are you doing? Talk to her!” Kali urged in my head.

I didn’t respond. I could only watch, stunned by what had just happened, as Elmiryn shrank to a small figure in the distance.

“Nyx!” My Twin prodded again.

“Kali, you have to understand…” I murmured aloud.

“Understand what? You’re letting your cowardice get the better of you! Can’t you see that she needs you? She is falling prey to her curse!”

I turned and started down the road, my eyes clouding with fresh tears. “Sister…didn’t you hear her?” I sobbed.

“What do you mean?” Irritation saturated Kali’s words.

“She says she can’t hear my Meaning anymore. What use would talking to her do if the words I’d give her, she wouldn’t comprehend?”

“So how do you intend to fix that?”

I shook my head, feeling my heart wrench. “I still have no idea. I just know it’s my fault I let it get this bad.”

But I didn’t have time to wallow. I really did need to get those supplies. Night was the safest time to venture into Belcliff, when less of its citizens were roaming the streets, and I could find a less scrupulous trader willing to unload his shady stock. Daedalus couldn’t return to town for a long time. His wagon full of sundries and clothes would draw unwanted attention to our newfound hideout. Aside from Paulo, I was the only person free and able-bodied to achieve this errand of resupply. The boy had gone last time. Now it was my turn. I needed to do this. I needed to leave.

Even so, my attempts at pragmatism sounded fake, even to me.



Elmiryn felt as though a great stone was in her chest. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She drank the wine down to the last drop, then threw the bottle down onto the ground and stomped on it. It smashed musically, giving her fleeting satisfaction. She needed more. She also needed to hydrate.

There was nothing easy about being perpetually drunk. The effects on her body was finally catching up to her. The drink robbed her of so much. Maybe that was why she had felt worn down enough to lash out. She hadn’t meant her meeting with Nyx to go that way. Elmiryn missed her. Wanted the girl to feel she could speak to her. Instead, she had blown up on her friend. Used her power to crush the gate, even. Which of course begged the question…

Could she cross the line? Could she really hurt Nyx?

Elmiryn wanted to say that she never could, but now she wasn’t so sure. After all, how could she tell where that moral line was when she didn’t believe in the world around her?

She went to the open wound in the field, where she knew the world bled water with the help of a torture device, and pumped out a bucketful to drink. After she had her fill, Elmiryn splashed her face and neck, then turned her eyes to the abandoned demon’s nest–what everyone else still understood to be Syria’s tower. Thanks to her effort to commit sound to memory and her ability to see the weave of the world, the Fiamman was still aware of what the others understood things as. But behind the intention of the gods, she saw another interpretation. With more time passing, this separate view felt more real. More truthful.

And in this new truth, she could feel Nyx’s love for her drowning in something hideous.

I certainly didn’t make things better by scaring her like that, she thought with a surge of thirsty anguish.

The heartfelt pain made her cravings worse. She was fairly certain the only thing left to drink was some cooking wine that Quincy was trying to hide from her–but along with Elmiryn’s ability to see the weave of the world, she could also sniff out the alcohol like a hound.

Leaving the water bleeder behind, Elmiryn staggered to her feet and made for the demon’s nest. Her shadow sliced through the foyer and onto the first stone steps of the staircase as she stood in the tower entrance. Then a sudden pressure appeared in the center of her chest. It intensified quickly, and as it did so, the warrior found it difficult to breathe. Dizziness swept over her, leaving her cold as she fell to a knee, gasping with increasing desperation. Her jaw began to ache, as did her shoulders and back. It was like her body was seizing up, even as Elmiryn tried to will her muscles to relax.

Instead, the woman vomited up much of the water she had drunk just a moment before.

“What in the heavens?” she heard Daedalus say somewhere nearby. She was too disoriented to pinpoint his voice. Groaning, she rolled onto her back, away from the water she had purged. A few sharp footsteps later, and Daedalus appeared over Elmiryn, scowling. At least, she was pretty sure it was the elf.

She reached a hand up and gasped out, “Some… Something’s wrong!”

The elf knelt down, his expression hardening. “Well, that’s obvious! Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

Elmiryn swallowed and gestured at her chest. “Trouble breathing… Weight… Weight on my chest!”

Daedalus leaned down and pressed a pointed ear to the woman’s chest. After a short beat, he hissed through his teeth. “Damn! Don’t you move, I’ll be right back.”

“Of course…” Elmiryn wheezed. She tried to grin. “I’m… s-so comfortable… here.”

The elf hurried toward the staircase, his footfalls echoing away.

The redhead squeezed her eyes shut and tried to sit up, only to feel she had no strengths in her arms.

Voices echoed down the stairwell and soon Daedalus reappeared along with Quincy. The woman was pretty sure it was the brunette anyway. They knelt on either side of Elmiryn, with the wizard helping the warrior to sit up as the elf opened a medium-sized wooden chest he’d brought from Hakeem’s room.

“Fiamman, you’re having a heart attack,” the elf informed her gravely. He plucked out a small vial from a compartment in the chest, and pulled out the stopper. Holding the vial up close to her lips, he instructed tensely, “Do not move, please. Too much of this will kill you.”

Refraining from the urge to make another wisecrack, Elmiryn kept still and opened her mouth as the elf carefully allowed three fat drops to fall onto her tongue. The woman grimaced as she swallowed. It tasted like chalk and bitter plant root. Quincy held a cup of water to her lips that the redhead had failed to see before, and she took a tentative swallow before turning her face away.

The wizard allowed for Elmiryn to lay back down as the pressure in her chest continued. It seemed to go on forever.

Then the pressure started to ease, and breathing became easier. The aches in her jaw and back lingered but were not nearly as painful. The woman sighed and eyed the pair that was still at her sides.

“I don’t suppose I could trouble someone for a drink?” she asked with a weak grin.

Quincy and Daedalus exchanged a dark look before grabbing Elmiryn’s arms and lifting her up.

“Elmiryn, you’re going to kill yourself at this rate,” Quincy grunted as the two guided the warrior into the study and onto a cushioned chair.

“You worry too much,” she replied without conviction.

“I only have so much digitalis tincture,” Daedalus said with crossed arms and sharp eyes. “I can give you another small dose later, but I’d only be treating the symptoms.”

“So treat the symptoms then!” Elmiryn snapped, glaring up at him.

The elf snorted, “I’m not your personal healer, woman! And at any rate, the tincture is just a stopgap! There is no guarantee it will ensure the continued function of your heart!”

“So what do you suggest?” Quincy asked the elf curiously.

“That the Fiamman stop drinking, of course!”

Elmiryn tensed at the suggestion. “If I stop drinking outright, I actually have a higher risk of dying, elf.”

“Then we start you on a healing regiment to scale the consumption back.”

Quincy sighed and rubbed at her brow. “The problem, Daedalus, is that Elmiryn’s addiction isn’t of the natural sort. It’s a fae addiction.”

The elf stared at the brunette. “That’s ridiculous. She’s human!”

Elmiryn sank in her chair, her eyes rolling shut. “That’s news to me.”

Quincy frowned down at Elmiryn as she said to Daedalus, “It’s true. I believe Lethia apprised you of the demons we’re fighting, did she not?”

Daedalus actually chortled. “What utter nonsense!” He looked between the two of them, his smile fading. “But it really cannot be! What you’re saying is that this woman,” he thrust a shaking finger at the redhead, “Is somehow a fae? That she was changed by one of those demons? How could the gods allow such a thing to even exist in our world!?”

“I’m still part fae, thank you,” Elmiryn groused.

Quincy gave her a look. “You don’t even know how much of you is still human anymore, Elmiryn.”

“Then break out the ruler, wizard. Frankly, I could give a shit how human I am,” Elmiryn intoned.

What does it matter if Nyx wants nothing to do with me?

“Oh this is a fine time to revert to being a brat!” Quincy scolded.

Elmiryn rolled her eyes and made a jerking masturbatory motion with her hand, eliciting a sound of disgust from the other woman.

Daedalus turned away and started to pace a short line along the floor. One hand covered his mouth as his brows knitted. “This is… this is very grave indeed. My people remember the fae perhaps better than any other species in this world, but such an unholy transformation brings about its own hurdles!”

Quincy went to him and put an arm around his shoulders, halting his pacing. She steered him slowly toward the foyer as her voice dropped to a murmur, but Elmiryn still caught what she said: “Daedalus, I realize she’s a difficult patient, but Elmiryn didn’t ask to be turned into a fae. She deserves our help.”

The elf grunted in response but said nothing in response.

Quincy continued to speak, and the pair migrated into the kitchen. Elmiryn was no longer able to make out their words. She slumped in her chair, staring at the charred logs in the fireplace. She felt much like the logs did. Brittle. Black. Like a thing to be discarded, all used up and spent. She had been aware for a while now that she had lost her edge. She doubted she could do a set of push-ups with ease (20 of them) let alone a full routine (100 reps total). The shame and disgust this instilled in her left an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth. Or perhaps that was from her vomiting.

All her life, Elmiryn had been an instrument of war. Her body was trained and disciplined, her entire being honed to the purpose of being a living weapon. Now, while far from being helpless, she was… average. Soon to be less than average, if this degradation kept up. Could she hope to protect anyone if the need arose? Could she even protect herself?

Spurred to her feet by a sudden fit of anxiety, Elmiryn shook off a wave of dizziness, then snuck to the door. Quincy and Daedalus were still murmuring to each other in the kitchen. Neither paid her any mind as she slipped outside.

She walked around the tower to the back, where she found Paulo chopping firewood. He was without his cloak, his shirt off and tucked into the back of his trousers, allowing for a rare display of his body markings. Unlike Elmiryn, the boy had a soldier’s body– lean and strong. Perhaps peak efficiency even. (He must be training when he slips away…) He paused to strike the ax into the ground and pull his shirt out. He wiped his face as she approached him.

“Elmiryn,” he said, his eyes flickering from her face to his boots and back again. With some fumbling, he unfolded his shirt and pulled it hastily over his head. “I, ah, didn’t hear you coming.”

“I get that a lot these days,” she said, briefly amused by his shyness. “Which is bizarre considering I can barely walk straight anymore.”

He grunted as he pulled the ax back out of the ground. “True.” He quirked an eyebrow at her as he placed another log on the cutting block. “Now that you mention it, I’m surprised to see you without a bottle in your hand, lia.” There was a jeer in his words.

Elmiryn didn’t take the bait. She’d never say this to the boy, but he reminded her of a scared new recruit from the Ailuran-Fiamman war. He was not so different from some young boy, probably from the poor districts, determined to mask his fear and weakness by lashing out. After all, hadn’t she just snuck up on him? It really hadn’t been her intention, but Paulo had been taken off guard. He was no doubt back here because at this time of day, no one else was. Chopping wood was a good release of tension, but doing it with a heavy cloak and a thick cotton shirt on? She’d take those off too if she were in his position. But the boy was self-conscious of his body’s scars. They were nasty reminders of how he’d been at the mercy of Syria… mutilated under her power. She understood how his scars would be a touchy subject with him.

Yes, Elmiryn could forgive a bit of snarkiness and ill temper in the boy’s case. At least he hadn’t crushed an iron gate with his will alone.

Then again, there was that time the other night at dinner when he gave everyone a migraine headache because Argos had eaten his bread roll when he hadn’t been looking.

Fucking enchanters.

“I was on my way to get another bottle when I was interrupted,” Elmiryn said with a wry grin.

Paulo chopped the wood on the block and reached for another piece. He glanced at her as he stooped down. “We’ll run out soon, you know.” The snark was gone from him. He was scowling at her. With concern, maybe? She couldn’t tell.

Elmiryn crossed her arms, trying to mask how her hands shook. “I know.”

“What does Nyx have to say about it? Is she getting you more to drink? She must have left for town already.”

At the girl’s mention, Elmiryn felt her shoulders clench. “She doesn’t talk to me much these days.”

Now the boy stopped, the ax raised in the air as he fixed Elmiryn with a look of surprise. “No? Why the hell not? I thought you two were practically engaged!”

This made her laugh, bitterly.

Paulo set the ax down against the chopping block and wiped his brow with the back of his hand again. “Elmiryn, Nyx cares about you. Very much so… You know this, yes? I mean, you must. How can you not?”

Now it was her turn to sneer. She feigned shock with a hand over her heart. “My gods! Paulo, I never knew!”

He rolled his eyes at her as he stepped closer, his hands resting on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. “Don’t be thick, lia. I’m just trying to–”

“Just trying to what?” Elmiryn interjected through her teeth. She advanced on him, making him take a step back. “Piss me off? Don’t pretend to know about me and Nyx. Up until a few weeks ago, you couldn’t have cared less about us!”

Paulo lowered his gaze, his hands raising up in a show of relent. “You’re right. I’m… sorry. But you did right by me and my family when you buried my brother. When… when you brought me his gun. The bond you and Nyx shared was obviously strong. It seemed good for you. I guess I just wanted to help you too.”

Elmiryn sighed roughly and covered her face with her hand. She backed away, turning her back to Paulo as she did so. “No. Don’t apologize. I was being an asshole. I know you meant well.”

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Elmiryn heard Paulo pick up the ax. Swish. Thud. She heard two more pieces of wood fall to the ground.

“She doesn’t talk to me anymore,” Elmiryn muttered to the sky.

There was another beat of silence before Paulo resumed his work.

Swish. Thud.

“No offense, lia, but you aren’t making yourself that approachable, eh? What with your drinking, and… ah…”

Elmiryn chuckled and looked over her shoulder, “You mean my glamorous body odor and irresistible hair?”

Paulo snickered and shrugged as if to say, Pretty much!

She turned her gaze back out toward the field, wherein the distance she could just make out the perimeter fence. She couldn’t quite see the gate from here, but she could still envision its mangled shape. She’d have to get Quincy to help her fix it later.

“Elmiryn, it seems to me that if you want Nyx to feel comfortable with speaking to you again, you should make it easier for her too,” Paulo said behind her. When she didn’t say anything to this, he went on. “You’ve got to stop drinking, lia. And if I’m going to be completely honest with you, that stuff makes you crazy. You’ll be better off without it.”

Elmiryn snorted derisively at first. What did Paulo know about her condition? Of all of them, he probably understood it the least. He had no idea what a ‘fae addiction’ really meant or even the kinds of things she was trying to inoculate herself from. The visions. The Whispers. The reality of a world that didn’t want her there anymore.

Regardless, the simplicity of his suggestion still managed to arrest her thoughts.

Just. Stop. Drinking.

Yes it would be hard. Painful. Perhaps even deadly…

But she had been focused only on all the reasons NOT to try. What about all those reasons that said the effort would be worthwhile?

She could become strong again. In control again. Maybe if she could stop her dependence on drink, she could learn to control her fae abilities to the point that she didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore? The others would take her more seriously. It had been so long since Elmiryn had felt free of automatic skepticism and lack of faith, that she’d almost forgotten what it was like for people to stop and heed her words with respect.

She could show Nyx that she had some Meaning too.

More than that, she could show Nyx that she’d do anything to get her to look at her that way again.

I’ve been blaming her for not reaching out to me, but what the fuck have I done to reach out to her? What am I? A child? Elmiryn reprimanded herself. When… when did I let myself forget my promises to her?

“You’re right,” she said at last. She turned to see Paulo stop again.

He rested the ax on his shoulder and asked, “So you’ll do it? You’ll stop?”

Elmiryn nodded jerkily. Even as she did so, she could feel a panic tightening her stomach. Niggling doubts almost immediately started to protest–

Too hard.

Too risky.


“Yes,” she said through a tight throat. She looked at him. “But my body might start to act on its own. I’m part fae, so that side of me could try to go back to drinking itself to death. I’ll be mindless. Desperate.” Elmiryn fixed Paulo with a grave look, her lips thin and pale. “Paulo, other than Quincy, you are the only person who can help control me until Nyx gets back. Will you help me?”

Paulo drew himself up. He went to her, almost eagerly, with a hand extended. “Elmiryn, whatever you need, I will do it. You helped the Moretti family. It is time we helped you.”

Elmiryn could feel the blood draining from her face. The boy’s extended hand felt threatening. Dangerous.

She took it in a tight grip and croaked out, “I’ll need it.”

Back to Chapter 45.2 | Forward to Chapter 46.1

  1. ‘Little One’ by Highly Suspect, from the album ‘The Boy Who Died Wolf’. 300 Entertainment, 2016. []

Chapter 45.2


Elmiryn wanted to preoccupy herself with something, and given that everyone else seemed otherwise indisposed, she chose to bother Paulo, who also seemed adrift in the final hours of the day. It also helped that she’d had some more wine since arriving, of course.


“Stop laughing, lia! I mean it!” he snarled.


“How’m I s’posed to stop laughin’ when ya keep making that face?” The redhead guffawed, using the table to support herself.


“Pie and women! They are related!”




“I’m serious!”


“As in women make the pies, or come with them?”




Elmiryn descended into another raucous peal of laughter.


“S-So is it safe to–safe t’say ya haven’t had much pie, Paulo?”




His naivety even elicited a chortle from Quincy, who was busy making dinner.


“It was a stupid game,” Paulo huffed, glaring as he slouched against the wall.


They were in the kitchen inside the tower and the evening was waning into night. They had already lit the lamps. Quincy toiled away at chopping up the remaining vegetables to add to the leftover stew from the previous night. Daedalus was in the study with Argos. He’d started up the fireplace to give him light as he read a book. All the warm illumination made the tower feel less…inhospitable. Elmiryn could understand why Lethia wouldn’t have minded growing up here as a child.


That didn’t mean she felt at home.


“Let’s start over,” she said once her humor finally subsided. “Farm.”


“I don’t want to do it anymore,” Paulo muttered sullenly.


“Come on! Farm!


The teenager let out a long sigh of suffering. Quincy glanced over her shoulder at him, sweat on her brow from the heat of her cooking.


“You may as well indulge her, Paulo. She won’t leave you alone,” she remarked.


When Paulo looked at the warrior as if to confirm this, Elmiryn nodded gravely.


He bared his teeth and slouched further. “Pigs!”


Her answer was quick. “Mud.”












“Dinosaurs–” As soon as the word left her mouth, Elmiryn broke off with hiss, gripping her head. The pain didn’t go away with time, but instead, intensified, causing her to collapse onto the floor.


“Elmiryn?” she heard Paulo say, his voice tight and loud. Too loud. It echoed and ricocheted in her mind, making it into mush.


She yelled, curling up into a ball, squeezing her eyes shut to the flickering shadows on the walls. Those were just windows for the spirits to lean in and laugh at her, the demon’s pet who was astray.


Too fast. Everything was unraveling too fast.


“Elle? What’s happened?” That was Nyx. When had she shown up? Her voice was like a wave, washing away the confusion, cleansing Elmiryn of the madness that started to break through her drunken shield.


The warrior felt a warm hand on her arm. Cautiously, she peered from between her arms to see Nyx knelt beside her, her face tense with worry.


“She had another episode, by the looks of it,” Quincy sighed. She hovered nearby, frowning.


“No,” Elmiryn croaked, sitting up with a wince. Though the intense pain was gone, her head still throbbed. “I said something I shouldn’t have. Something that doesn’t belong. That doesn’t fit.”


“What do you mean?” Nyx asked, frowning.


Lethia, who had been watching from the foyer, stepped forward quickly. “Actually, she can’t say.”


Everyone turned to look at the enchantress. She shrugged. “Elmiryn has been to other dimensions. Trying to speak of things outside of this realm leads to the universe harshly correcting you.”


“And how do you know this?” Paulo scoffed.


Lethia put her hand on her hip as she shot him a sharp look. “Obviously because I’ve suffered the same! I’ve been to the same dimension Elmiryn has, and before that, Syria made certain to educate me. I was to go with her in her multidimensional journey with Izma.”


“You never mentioned this!” Quincy said, sounding annoyed.


The enchantress glared at her. “We haven’t exactly been very talkative with each other, now have we?”


“It doesn’t matter!” Nyx snapped.


Quincy turned her ire on her. “And why not?”


“Because we wouldn’t be able to talk much about things anyway!” Elmiryn spat. “Didn’t Lethia just tell you? Look at me, Quincy. Imagine the damage we’d suffer if we let slip one too many things that our world does not permit!”


The wizard pursed her lips as if to hold back any further arguments, though she clearly had plenty to spare.


“Can you stand?” Nyx asked gently.


Elmiryn looked at her, feeling hopeful. It was an odd sensation, and one she couldn’t recall experiencing with such intensity toward the girl. This realization quickly chased her hope, and strangled it. Why did the warrior need to feel hopeful with Nyx? Did she fear something had been permanently lost between them?


“Yeah,” Elmiryn grunted, trying to mask her conflict. She fought to her feet, pulling away from Nyx as she did so.


Then the warrior had another idea.


Rubbing her head, she asked, “Kitten, can I lay up in yer room for a while?”


For once, the warrior’s ulterior motive wasn’t in the gutter, but the Ailuran seemed to think so. Her companion’s face flashed a deep pink, but more than that, she went rock still, her body tightening as if expecting a punch. She didn’t open her mouth to speak, and her eyes glazed over.


All of this in just a few seconds, but Elmiryn was so taken aback by this that she stammered out (and never in her memory could she recall ever doing that) “I jes–jes’ meant to rest!” And then, with a noticeable sting in her heart, she added under her breath so that the others wouldn’t hear, “I’ll sleep in the barn, if that’s what ya want.”


Nyx recovered–in a sense. It looked like it took effort, but the tension eased from her shoulders, and the stiffness left her posture. Almost apologetically, she mumbled back (though by now the others had hurriedly distracted themselves) “We can talk about your sleeping arrangements later.”


Elmiryn was sure the girl meant for this to make her feel better, but it didn’t. It made her feel worse.


She didn’t bother to correct me. She isn’t just shy to talk, she’s uncomfortable with me entirely. What in the fucking hell is going on?


“All right, Nyx,” was all the woman said in response.


“In the meantime, Elle, feel free to rest in my room. I can bring you a bowl of stew once it’s ready.”


Elmiryn nodded as she shuffled off for the stairs, a light frown on her face and a heavy feeling in her gut.


Was it something I said? Was it something I did? I’d say it was because I was off with Meznik for a while, but somehow I don’t think that’s the issue! Not completely anyway.


The warrior glanced over her shoulder just before she rounded the stairwell. Nyx and Lethia were standing side by side, murmuring to each other. That in of itself didn’t seem so odd. She had been somewhat aware of tension between the two, but apparently that had been cleared up. It wasn’t until the enchantress reached over and patted Nyx’s arm in a sympathetic manner that Elmiryn paused, her eyes narrowing.


Does Lethia know what’s going on? she wondered. Then she felt a flare of irritation when she recalled that the two girls had been sitting in the barn for what was several hours, just talking.


Nyx feels like she confide in Lethia but not me? Haven’t I earned that trust?


Elmiryn ground her teeth a little before willing herself to resume marching up the stairs.


But she didn’t go up to the topmost bedroom, like she said she would. As soon as she reached the first bedroom door in the stairwell, she stepped up to it. Quincy and Hakeem’s room. It was closed, so she placed her ear to the wood. Inside, she heard no sounds, but that didn’t mean anything. The room also faced the setting suns, so she couldn’t trust if the soft glow coming beneath the crack was just dying sunlight or a lit candle.


Taking hold of the door, Elmiryn turned the handle slowly. No sound. She pushed it gently, carefully. The hinges creaked, making her wince, but otherwise the sound did not carry. Daring another half-inch, she peered in through the open crack. There were no candles lit. The golem posing as Hakeem lay flat on the bed.


With a brief glance over her shoulder, Elmiryn slipped into the room and shut the door.


Stepping quietly, she stopped next to the bed and peered down at the lifeless construct. It was dormant, playing at sleep. She let her second sense bleed through her eyes, and though it made her head ache, she could see the lack of spiritual glow in its body. The threads that weaved this thing into existence were not natural threads. But how could she make the others see this?


“You’re a knot,” Elmiryn whispered over the golem. “Just one big knot in the universe’s weave.”


The thing stirred. The warrior tensed and took a step back.


Now was not the time. She couldn’t destroy it now. The others didn’t understand. Quincy would turn murderous. That sort of chaos would split their group apart, and they needed to stay together. Elmiryn could see as much in just a day. Who else would believe what they went through? Who else would protect and shield them from the consequences of that fateful day when Syria escaped? Everyone was tired and nursing wounds, both visible and hidden. Even if their unity was tenuous, it would have to hold for now, because the alternative was far worse.


Yet even as she thought these things, the warrior also knew that this fake Hakeem was a threat to their recovery as a group as well. What devious plan was Izma playing out here? The golem was like a bomb whose fuse was gradually running down. Elmiryn could not destroy it prematurely, but she couldn’t wait either.


“I’m going to unravel this knot, Izma,” the warrior hissed low as she slowly retreated, back toward the door. “I’ll find a way!”


Just as Elmiryn turned the doorknob, she heard a voice murmur behind her, making her hair stand on end–for just a touch of music lay behind each word–“You’re certainly welcome to try, little pet.


“What did you say?” Elmiryn snarled whirling around with her hand grasping for her sword–but that was gone, left carelessly in the foyer after she had changed earlier. Her heart jumped into her throat.


The golem stirred and sat up. Groggily it said, “What? Who’s there?”


But the woman had already turned and fled, slamming the door behind her.




Three more days passed.


Now that Lethia and I were on good terms again, it felt hard not to gravitate to the barn. I didn’t always feel like talking, and I think she understood my need to be in the company of someone who actually understood how I felt. Sometimes we did talk. I told her more about my childhood–the challenges I faced, the people I loved, the awkward dilemmas I suffered through. In turn, she shared much the same. As Lethia told me about her upbringing with Syria, I realized, sorrowfully, that Daedalus had been right. I had claimed to know Lethia Artaud far too quickly.


The enchantress was very principled, and had an earnest love of order. When she revealed to me her intent to kill Syria, I was surprised at first. But then I could see, in the bright and wistful way the girl spoke of her surrogate mother, that she still loved her. For Lethia, her desire for honor and her sense of love…there was no separation. They were one and the same.


I was humbled that she could make such a hard choice about someone she cared about. It made me doubt my own dedication to Elmiryn again. After all, I was a champion, and she was now a demon’s pet. Was there something more I could be doing to bring her back to Harmony? Was I being too lenient?


Naturally my concerns slipped into more personal issues. Why did I feel so put off by her when she was all I could think about for weeks? Why did I crave her presence, yet feel deeply uncomfortable by it at the same time? All I could think about was her walking away forever, and yet she was so caring and considerate of me…


“You’re doing it again!” Lethia snapped, annoyed.


I looked at her, startled out of my reverie. As was becoming custom, I was sitting with the girl in the barn. I sat on a low stool while she brushed my hair with a wooden comb Daedalus had given her.


The enchantress wagged the comb at me. “I am telling you, Nyx! You have to stop anticipating the worst!”


“Are you telling me this as my therapist?” I grumbled resentfully. “Did you read my mind again?”


“I’ll have you know, your thoughts are plain as day on your face,” Lethia shot back. “And of course I’m not speaking to you as your therapist. That was quite unfair of you to say! You know what I would say if you were some patient I was detached from?”


I looked at her wearily. “What?”


She glared. “I would say, ‘Love is about communication, and you need to open up to Elmiryn in order for her to understand how you feel.’ You want to know what I say to you as a friend? Stop the nonsense and just talk to her! It’s the only way you’ll know for sure!”


A whine escaped my lips as I kicked at the dirt on the ground. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even want to try and discuss what our relationship is! Do you know how it all started? One day, Elmiryn was hallucinating so bad that she thought she could take the meaning of my words just by the force of a kiss alone!”


Lethia sighed and shook her head, “It figures….”


“So you see? From the start, there was never any real discussion of an ‘us’ so much as just…companionship. Giving and taking. That seemed welcome enough,” I laughed bitterly. “Oh we got close to putting a name to what was happening. But we both made excuses, and I thought it was fine because….”




“Because I was afraid I’d scare her away,” I muttered miserably.


“All right. Things started out uncertainly between the two of you and it just…kept evolving without much discussion, correct?”


“Completely correct.”


“Then may I ask why it is that you insisted on waiting for Elmiryn to determine the nature of the relationship?”


I looked at her in anguish. “Oh, now you are treating me like a patient!”


“I’m serious, Nyx! Why does Elle have to be the one to say what is and isn’t going on between you two? Clearly you have feelings for her and you are invested! It’s not enough that Elmiryn just fools around with you. What if we travel to a city with a brothel and she decides she wants to roll around with someone for two bits a night?”


I shrugged morosely. “It’s her right. It’s not like I control her.”


Lethia groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”


“You know it’s more complicated than that,” I whispered, my shoulders hunching. “Why are you acting like that isn’t the case?”


Lethia went to kneel before me, her bright green eyes locking onto mine. “I know it’s hard for you. And I know why. But I need you to remember that wasn’t Elmiryn! Every time you give in to your fears with her, you are letting Izma win!”


I looked away. “I have to go back to town. We need more supplies.”


“You can’t keep putting it off.”


“It was one thing telling you the truth, Lethia. It’s another thing entirely to tell Elmiryn!”


Lethia lowered her gaze. “True enough. But it needs to happen. And soon. I don’t see your relationship surviving much longer otherwise.”


I squeezed her shoulder before standing to leave. She hadn’t finished combing my hair, but our discussion suddenly made me eager to leave.


Lethia is right. If I leave things as they are, then we’ll grow apart.


I looked up at the evening sky, taking a deep breath. It was no good, I felt like I was suffocating still.


Maybe that’s what needs to happen. Maybe Elmiryn and I are too broken to be together. Maybe us growing apart would be for the best.

Back to Chapter 45.1 | Forward to Chapter 45.3

Chapter 45.1


I prepared a quick bath for Elmiryn. Lethia lent her some extra clothes Daedalus had apparently purchased for her on one of his trips back to town–of everyone, the enchantress was closest to Elmiryn’s build–and within the hour the Fiamman was looking closer to her old self again in a creamy blouse and dark trousers. Her hair was still a wild nest, but she was fed up with all the grooming. I was too, quite frankly. Scissors were starting to look like the only solution to the mess, but just the mention of the idea sent the warrior into a boiling froth. I would have left her to take care of it by that point, except the moment I attempted to storm away, Elmiryn tried to eat a bar of soap.


“But it smells like oatmeal! Isn’t this oatmeal? I’m hungry!” she angrily complained.


After all of that, I helped my companion corral her hair into something resembling a ponytail, and together we ran up the stairs of the tower to see Hakeem. To my relief, the Fanaean was still awake, and he smiled at me as we approached the bed. Quincy sat next to him, and at first she barely glanced at us, but when her eyes set on Elmiryn’s face, she did a double take.


She popped up from her chair, her eyes going wide, “Elmiryn?”


Elmiryn squinted her eyes and pointed at her. “Quincy?” As the wizard laughed and came around the bed to greet her, the redhead leaned toward me and muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “That is her, right?”


“Right,” I whispered back, just as Quincy held out her hand.


“I half expected you to be smeared on some mountainside after coming out of a wrong portal!” Quincy chortled.


“No, no. I never use the wrong holes,” Elmiryn said with a poor attempt at a straight face.


“Are you sure?” Quincy and I asked in unison. We looked at each other, startled. The brunette’s expression became neutral, the warmth she had shown for Elmiryn cooling as her eyes met mine. My shoulders slumped and I looked down at my shoes.


You’re feeling guilty again, Kali informed me.


My jaw clenched. Hush!


Only I didn’t need Kali telling me. Now, seeing how much more amiable Elmiryn was with the others despite her compromised mind, I knew that if I wanted to have a better experience in this group, I was going to have to start with myself.


“Nyx! It is good to see you. The others tell me you ran off to find this one,” Hakeem exclaimed from the bed. He pointed at Elmiryn, his eyebrows rising. “Are you sure you found the right woman?”


The redhead only bared a stiff smile in response. I gave her a small nudge and replied, “No, no. This is Elmiryn, I’m sure of it! Who else can manage to make me fret even more after finding them?”


Hakeem laughed, as did Quincy.


“Of course! I’m just a nuisance,” the warrior said with a shrug, but she still seemed out of sorts and it was making me nervous.


The married couple didn’t seem fazed. Quincy quickly returned to Hakeem’s side, and the Fanaean seemed glad to have her close again, his eyes fixing on her in a disarmingly eager fashion. I blushed a little, feeling all of a sudden like we were intruding.


I coughed and said, “We’ll be off to let you gather your strength, Hakeem.”


He glanced at me and smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Nyx! I’m sure I’ll be joining you and the others downstairs soon. It’ll be nice to talk again.”


I blinked, unsure how to process this saccharine behavior coming from the usually serious man. “Oh…all—all right! Take care then.” When I turned to leave, Elmiryn didn’t go with me. She stayed by Hakeem’s bedside, arms crossed, just scowling.


I tugged at her arm. “Elmiryn, let’s go!” I hissed.


Quincy and Hakeem watched her curiously when her hovering didn’t stop.


“Do you need something?” Asked the brunette archly, while her husband patted her hand.


Elmiryn took her time responding. When she did, it was to say with off-color cheer, “I’m looking forward to seeing Hakeem with us again.”


This earned bemused smiles, and the woman finally allowed me to drag her away.


“What was that?” I whispered heatedly as we descended the stairs. “You were behaving oddly!”


“Don’t I always?” Elmiryn replied mildly.


At the tower foyer I cut her off before she could exit outside. “What I mean was that you were behaving suspiciously! It’s as if you resent Hakeem or something! What’s he possibly done to offend you?”


“I don’t resent Hakeem, and he hasn’t offended me,” Elmiryn said with a solemn expression.


“Then what is it?”


She looked furtively over her shoulder before herding me outside. When we were some ways from the tower entrance, she pointed over her shoulder and hissed, “That? Is not Hakeem.”


I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”


“I mean just what I said. That person we spoke to? I don’t know who or what he is, but that was not the same Hakeem we know!”


“How can that be? Quincy seems convinced!”


“Of course she is! A distraught wife cares for her husband, clinging to him—your words not mine—and suddenly, miraculously, he’s awake!” She threw her hands into the air and looked up in mock worship. “Praise be to the gods!” Elmiryn let her arms fall back to her sides with a slap, “Who on Halward’s plane would be in their right mind to stop and question such a wonderful boon as that?”


I put my hands on my hips and shifted my weight to one foot. “How do you know this isn’t a hallucination of yours?”


“You really want to know?”


I huffed. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t!”


Elmiryn gestured around us. “I see the threads in everything. It’s a crazy mess of patterns and colors, energy just fading in and out, weaving and dodging and—look it’s confusing. I don’t entirely get it. But I’ve learned a few patterns. Life? There’s lots of different ways life manifests itself in our world, but the one thing I see living things sharing in common is a kind of thread. Bright, warm, thick. It contains their soul, no matter how simple or complex.” She pointed at the tower again, her voice dropping so low I had to lean in close. “That thing up there? No special thread. That means no soul. That thing is some kind of fucking golem, and now I’ve got to find a way to kill it without getting Quincy after me!”


My eyes were wide. “That can’t be! Things like that can’t exist!”


She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t believe me? Go into that weird dream place you told me about. The one where you can see the universe’s interpretation of everything. Tell me what you see then!”


I pulled away, frowning. Could it be true? Perhaps Hakeem’s behavior had seem out of character to me—a little more gregarious than I remembered—but did that mean he was some demonic construct hell bent on hurting us? It sounded so farfetched. We were back in the realm of the gods. Our gods. Such things weren’t supposed to be possible in their world.


“We’ll see,” I responded as I heard someone coming up the grass behind me. “But please, Elle. I beg of you! Don’t do anything rash without talking to me first!”


Elmiryn didn’t respond save to shake her head. I didn’t know what that meant. No, she wouldn’t talk to me? Or just that she thought I was wasting her time with my caution? Inwardly I heaved a sigh. I had a nasty feeling this was going to turn out badly.


When I turned around, Paulo was standing there. He had the hoodie of his cloak pulled down–which was rare, even in the warm weather–and the runed scars on his chiseled face made him look mean and predatory. Instinctively I tensed, but he had eyes only for Elmiryn.


The warrior stared back at him curiously, and I leaned in to breathe at her, “It’s Paulo.”


Her eyebrows. She looked at me, then back at him. “Damn!”


Paulo crossed his arms and fixed the woman with a guarded look. “Quincy told me about how you both buried my brother. You spoke for him.”


“I did.”


The teenager nodded jerkily, his eyes going to his boots. “Thank you.”


Elmiryn took a deep breath, her eyes closing shut. She reached behind her and pulled out Graziano’s pistol from her belt.


“I suppose Quincy told you I had this to give?” she said quietly.


Paulo’s went very still as his eyes fell on the ornate pistol. With its engraved ivory stock and unique triple barrels, it was unquestionably his brother’s.


“That… I didn’t think you’d bring me that,” Paulo rasped.


Elmiryn held the pistol to the boy, handle first. He gazed at it warily, like it were a viper, before he took the gun.


“Before you try and use that, you should have Quincy look at it,” Elmiryn warned.


Paulo batted his eyes at her. “Why?”


Even I was curious enough to chime in. “Did you sense something, Elle?”


She glanced at me, then looked back at Paulo. “I…I think it’s cursed. I just don’t know how.”


“Cursed?” Paulo repeated with a frown. “But how can you tell?”


“Like Nyx asked, I sensed something.”


“But how?” he pressed stubbornly.


“Just trust her,” I said firmly, before Elmiryn could snap at him. The boy looked at me sharply, and I elaborated with measured calm, “She can see things most can’t. Even if she doesn’t always understand what she sees, it might do to have Quincy’s second opinion!”


Paulo’s face soured, but he nodded.


I gestured out at the field. “You’ve been walking the grounds, right? Have you seen Argos? We didn’t see him when we came in.”


The teenager rolled his eyes as he walked around us toward the tower. “That stupid mutt has started spending more time with Daedalus. I think he and Lethia had a fight or something. The elf and the dog ought to be just behind the tower.”




Daedalus and Argos were indeed behind the tower standing at the elf’s spare part wagon. The man was using the dropped tailgate like a work table, parts and tools spread out on an oilskin. Meanwhile, Argos sat in the wagon bed, attentive to the man’s work. At least he wasn’t chasing gophers anymore.


As we approached, Daedalus folded the oilskin over, concealing his work. He glared at us and remarked, “Is your friend in need of medical aid?”


I looked at Elmiryn, startled. “Um…no?”


He waved us away. “Then begone! I must work in private.”


I pursed my lips and gestured at the elf. “Elmiryn, this is Daedalus. Lethia has known him since she was a child, and he’s since been helping us by getting supplies and providing healing.” Then I added. “Hello Argos.” The dog barked hello, his furry face split in a grin.


“Bah! Healing.” Daedalus spat. “So far, all I’ve done is keep a stubborn girl from accidentally killing herself and smuggled ladies underthings and grain from town.”


Elmiryn nodded at the elf’s makeshift workspace. “You’re pretty busy for a guy who just mules around things.”


“I’m fixing up doors and lantern posts. Hardly essential. I stay because Lethia is headstrong and seems to think there is no consequence for using her enchantment abilities to suppress her own pain.” He clicked his tongue irritably.


Elmiryn grinned. “Did she try bicep curls again?”


Daedalus just clicked his tongue, harder this time.


“So Lethia can really suppress her own pain?” I asked in wonder. It would explain how she could pull off her little stunt with the water bucket and not pass out.


The man gave a terse shake of his head. “That child? Are you mad?” He snorted and glared at the back of the barn. “She thinks she can, just because she read about it in a book, but I know that Syria never would have taught her such a trick until she was nearly complete with her training.” He crossed his arms. “Mark my words. If it weren’t for my continued presence, Lethia Artaud would be passed out in the dirt from trying to lift him!” He thumbed at Argos, who grumbled resentfully.


Elmiryn snickered and I grinned. It was an amusing thought, in a grim way.


But the grin vanished from my face at the thought of the girl actually dying, all because she was pushing herself too hard. Daedalus’ concern wasn’t empty. Just because Lethia could suppress her pain didn’t mean she should. Pain was there to tell us our limits. If she ignored those, she would die.


She’s prepared to die, Kali voiced the thought as it arrived.


My throat tightened as I turned to Elmiryn. “Elle, now that we’ve caught you up with everyone, will you be all right to look around for a bit on your own? Or you could wait for me in my room in the tower. It’s just…. I need to do something alone.”


Her eyes searched my face, her brow tensing but not quite forming a frown. She gave a slight nod. “I’ll be all right.”


I smiled thinly and lifted my hand as if to touch her arm. When my hand touched her, my stomach clenched, and I pulled away, trying to pass it off as a casual pat when it clearly wasn’t.


“Take care, Elmiryn.” I said as I walked away.


When I was out of earshot I cursed under my breath.


That sounded too much like a goodbye.




The afternoon was waning, and the crimson pine grosbeak that had taken to resting in the dead linden tree outside of the barn was sleepily chirping for its unseen compatriots. The sky was turning warm, the suns inching closer to the evening angle. They made my shadow long–stretching deep enough into the barn that it hit the back wall even as I stood at the entrance. I hesitated, feeling my body tense. If Lethia was asleep, she wouldn’t have seen that.


“Who’s there? Paulo, is that you?”


I rolled my eyes shut. Of course.


“It’s me, Lethia,” I said wearily as I stepped further inside.


When I stopped at her stall, I leaned on the partition and lifted my hand in greeting. The enchantress was resting in her hay bed, just as we left her. She gazed up at me bemusedly as she set aside what looked like a leather journal and a charcoal pencil.


“Oh! I wasn’t expecting to see you again today.”


I scratched my cheek. “I wasn’t expecting to be here either.” Then my tongue stopped. I didn’t know what else to say.


What was I even intending on doing here, again?


Lethia shrugged a little. “Can I…help you?”


I stared down at her. “Help me?” I repeated after a long moment.


“I just meant there’s a reason you’re here, right?”




“And that reason is…?” she trailed off expectantly.


I glared at her, irritated. “Am I bothering you? Did I interrupt something?”


Lethia blinked at me. “Nyx, that isn’t–”


“You said I should tell you what it is that you could do to help make amends, right?”


“Well, yes–”


“Then is this a bad time? Because I feel–” and I broke off with a huff, pushing away from the stall to pace in front of it. I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come for a fight. I really didn’t.”


I heard Lethia get up and stopped my back and forth to glare at the dirt.




I looked at her reluctantly. Lethia looked worried, but I could see the reservation in her, like she wasn’t sure she should trust that I wouldn’t hurt her.


I wasn’t sure either.


“I want you to listen,” I bit out. “I think…I’ve realized…” I growled and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I feel like no one understands what I’m feeling, all right? I hate it. I hate being misunderstood. I learned all those fancy words so that I could convey deeper thoughts, and it seems like they just made it worse. Now even I get confused about the exact reasons why I feel the way I do. But I figure I have an idea. I mean, I have ideas. Isn’t that what we all are in reality? Just a collection of ideas? Ideas can contradict, can’t they?”


Lethia nodded, but I got the impression it was more out of politeness than true understanding. I buried my hands in my hair and tugged hard. “I feel so much anger toward you, Lethia! Do you see? I feel sick with it! But then there’s this other part that still remembers what a good person you are, and it tries to reconcile what happened between us, but it just can’t.”


The girl closed her eyes. “You mean that time with Izma.”


“Yes!” I snarled. I jabbed a finger at the teenager’s face. “She hurt me! You hurt me! Taunting me with my feelings till I felt empty inside! There are many things I doubt in this world, Lethia, but my feelings for Elmiryn had been one of the first things in my life that I felt entirely certain of! Now? I feel horrible about it all!” I turned my face away, my fists clenching. “When I found Elmiryn out in the wilderness days ago, I couldn’t…I just I couldn’t open up. I’ve been struggling to feel like things are normal, but they aren’t, and I wonder if my feelings had ever been true at all now? What if I was just led by lust like how my mother lusted after every man in our village? That’s my legacy, isn’t it?”


Lethia was staring at me wide eyed now. “Nyx that’s absurd!”


I laughed bitterly. “Is it?”


She shook her head at me. “Yes! Quite frankly, I’m disappointed that someone as smart as you would allow yourself to get caught up with such an idea! Are you your mother, Nyx? What possible reason do you have to–”


Lethia broke off when she saw the look on my face. Drawn. Pale.


“You…. You really don’t know, do you?” I whispered, feeling the tears burn my eyes.


The girl started to say something, then faltered. Finally, she murmured. “No. Izma took complete control after your outburst about your father. I wasn’t there for any of it.”


All this time I’ve been punishing her, treating her poorly…


I sat on the ground, right there and then. My vision clouded. I heard Lethia kneel in front of me.


“Nyx, tell me. Tell me what happened.”


I shook my head, gripping it, pulling my knees up to curl into a ball. “No, I don’t want to!” My voice was small. Child-like.


I’d avoided thinking about that horrible moment all this time. I didn’t want to dredge up the painful details, and I especially didn’t want to tell someone else. It was almost like going through the whole thing again.


But I’d been holding on to this for close to weeks now, and it was eating me alive. I thought having Elmiryn back would make it better. If the last few days were any indication, I was about to feel a lot worse. Could I bury it down inside forever? When would the feeling of violation and shame go away? I could talk to Kali about it–but even given our new kinship, she was hardly a great conversation partner. Who else could I talk to? When?


Lethia bit her lip before saying softly, “If you aren’t ready, then you aren’t ready. I just want you to know that I’m always–”


“Izma showed me Elmiryn!” I blurted, looking up at the enchantress.


She stared at me in shock, and I mirrored her expression. I hadn’t expected to speak. I was teetering over the edge, but I could have just as likely clammed up and said nothing. Pulling me the other way, though, had been the idea that this was like any difficult thing a person faced. You did it one step at a time.


Lethia winced as she gingerly moved to sit on her bottom. When she was settled across from me, she pulled her knees up to her chest like I did and wrapped her one arm around them.


“And what was Elmiryn doing when you saw her?” she asked mildly, like she was aware I was ready to jump up and run out of there at the first loud noise.


One step at a time, one step at a time, one step at a time–


“Waiting.” I croaked. Then inwardly berated myself.


One step at a time, cajeck, not one word at a time!


“Take your time, Nyx,” Lethia reassured me.


I took a deep shuddering breath. After a long moment passed, I said next. “It was a simulation. Izma said…said it was a collection of Elmiryn’s memories, tweaked and reconstructed into one moment. So it wasn’t really her, and it wasn’t even a real memory, but…”


“It still felt real,” Lethia supplied when my silence stretched on.


I nodded mutely.


“So she was waiting. What was she waiting for?”


I swallowed at the rock in my throat. “A noble woman.” My jaw clenched. “For the purposes of that exercise, Izma saw it fit to put me in her position, so that Elmiryn spoke to me as if I was this other person.”


And I told her the rest. It took a long time. At one point, I couldn’t speak, I was crying so hard that Lethia let me lay in her hay bed. I felt guilty, taking a one-armed girl’s place of rest, but she insisted, and I was so distraught I didn’t have the strength to argue.


When I finished, I felt spent. My head had somehow found its way to Lethia’s lap, and she stroked my hair. Toward the end, she’d been crying too.


“Oh Nyx!” she whispered, anguish evident on her face. “What a horrible thing to have gone through!”


I covered my face with my hands. “But you didn’t know! And I treated you horribly!”


“You had every right to be angry! Heavens, you still have the right! Aware or not, I should have known that Izma would cross such lines when I agreed to help her!”


I sat up and shrugged. “What difference does it make? Izma told me the truth. I would let Elmiryn use me if it meant I felt wanted. She doesn’t love me now, imagine when she finally gets tired of me, or finds someone else? I’d still roll over for her if I could be with her, even just for that moment. I’d let anyone do that–”


“You would not, Nyx!” Lethia argued hotly.


I shook my head and stared morosely at my lap. My eyes felt raw and swollen, my nose still running with snot.


Lethia grabbed my hand and squeezed it, craning around so that she was looking up into my face. “You have got to stop thinking this way!” Then she bit her lip and said more apprehensively, “I know you told me to never speak to you about your mother, and I’m sorry I came across my knowledge of her in the way that I did, but you have to understand–you two are nothing alike! Your mother was a good woman who had difficulty facing the fact that she was getting old and the man she loved had left her! Her behavior was an addiction born out of a poor ability to cope! But you? You’re a resilient, practical, and self-aware young woman who has been through hell and back!”


“What are you talking about? I’m none of those things! I throw tantrums like a child, and I get confused by my constant second guessing! And I’m only resilient if you’re referring to my healing ability!”


“Dear gods, your cognitive distortions are immense! Are you opening your legs for every person who walks by? Of course not!”


I raised an eyebrow at her and mumbled wryly, “Who would I open my legs to? Daedalus looks down on me, Paulo and Quincy dislike me, Hakeem has been in a coma up until now, and I’m fairly certain you aren’t interested!”


Lethia actually thought about that before snickering out, “There’s always Argos!”


I gave her a horrified look. “Lethia!”


“Listen, my point is that you aren’t a naturally promiscuous person. Your sentiment that you would be with Elmiryn under any circumstances, no matter how she treated you, is simply due to the fact that your feelings for her are coupled with your fears of losing her–and I stress the word sentiment because you can’t actually know what you would do should Elmiryn abuse you in such a way until she does so! Now, pardon my frankness–”


“You want me to pardon just this one instance?”


“But you haven’t had relations with Elmiryn since you’ve found her, have you?”


I blushed, suddenly becoming interested in picking the hay out of my hair.


Lethia nodded knowingly. “Exactly. Not that your trauma is something to celebrate, but it goes completely against your assertions about yourself! All that said, I’d be more concerned about finding a way to overcome the apprehension you feel around Elmiryn instead of finding ways to villify yourself!”


When she was done, I stared at her hard, then remarked. “How much would that have cost if I had been some villager seeking guided healing?”


“A hundred gold,” Lethia said readily. She shrugged one shoulder at my smirk. “What? You think just because I was a journeyman, Syria didn’t give me patients to tend?”


My eyes narrowed in suspicion as a thought occurred to me. “If you charged a hundred, what did she charge?”


The girl pouted. “You realize Syria took on many charity cases, right?”


“Right. I’ll remember to admire the magnanimity of a lunatic later. Lethia, what did she charge?


“Five thousand!” She snapped. At my astonished look, she looked away. “Give or take,” she mumbled.


“Who can afford so much?” I sputtered. “People could live for years off of that!”


“Politicians, nobles, royalty…. Syria was famous after all! She tended to very important people!”


I shook my head in disbelief. “Sweet Aelurus!”


Lethia glanced at me sideways. “Did I ever mention that I visited Lekeid?”


My eyes went wide. “No! I thought you spent most of your time here at the tower?”


Lethia grinned shyly. “I’ve traveled on three occasions. Nothing beyond the Sibesonan continent, but–”


And Lethia told me of her travels, relating of a short-lived romance with an elven noble in Lekeid, and the time she got to play with Cailean, the Fiamman princess. It wasn’t that listening to her talk took the pain away. It lurked deep inside, waiting for that quiet moment when it could assail my heart again. Lethia’s kind voice kept it at bay, and for the first time in weeks, I felt almost normal again.

Back to Chapter 44.5 | Forward to Chapter 45.2

Chapter 44.5


I was worried. Elmiryn was essentially naked, left unprotected from the weather. She said the cold didn’t affect her. Mind you, it was the summer season, but up in the mountains, nighttime could still carry with it a bit of a chill. I insisted we head to Belcliff so that I could sneak into town and buy her something suitable, but the woman just waved me off.


“It’s just one of those things that don’t bother me anymore, Nyx,” she said with a shrug.


Just like that, as if the environment didn’t matter. Then came the proof. I didn’t so much as see her shiver. Even as we found ourselves in the glare of the suns for much of a day’s travel, she didn’t even get sunburn. It was one of the numerous unsettling changes that I’d observed in Elmiryn. Hunting was a cruel joke now. Birds and small animals didn’t seem to notice when the redhead walked right up to them to kill them for dinner. By the second night, I’d also realized the woman didn’t sleep. I woke up three separate times to find her sitting there awake and alert, and each time the moon in the sky had moved significantly from its last position. But she didn’t betray any sign of exhaustion. Not physically anyway. Mentally, I could see the woman was haggard. Since cutting off her tether with the daesce, her ability to process her surroundings deteriorated. Just about the only thing she reacted to with any sort of normalcy was in conversation.


Since that was the case, I figured I should keep talking to her. I avoided talking about my experiences in Izma’s mind game, and even about the time I spent with the others at Holzoff’s. It was just stalling the inevitable. I’d have to tell Elmiryn eventually. She even gave me looks that said, I know what you’re doing. You aren’t fooling me, but for some reason she never called me out. I was thankful for the space. Instead I related personal stories from my childhood, as well as folktales I had read. It wasn’t until our last day of travel that I told Elmiryn about how I made it back to our world.


“So the tree that had been at Syria’s was demonic…” she mused after I’d finished explaining how I’d fought the cursed linden tree at Syria’s tower.




“Do you think all the trees the demons planted behave the same? Quincy and Lethia were watching the whole thing, right? Did they observe anything useful while you fought the tree?”


I frowned. That was a good question. “I…don’t know!”


Elmiryn stared at me. “No one stopped to ask?”


“We were a bit disoriented, thank you very much!” She held up her hands, a look of suffering on her face. I winced. I might have let my vermagus power slip a bit there, and the redhead had already proven quite sensitive to it. “Sorry,” I mumbled.


“I’m just surprised, Nyx,” she stated. “Quincy and Lethia both are the types to stop and solve a puzzle just because someone put it in front of them. It’s like catnip for academics. ‘Where? Why? How?’ But what you’re saying sounds a bit out of character for them!”


“I really mean it when I say we were out of sorts, Elle. Things were…different. They still are.”


“How so?” She batted her eyes at me, bemused at my grave expression.


“Elmiryn, I think— Well, Quincy and I both believe that the astral demons must have done something to us.” I looked at her nervously. “I think they might have altered us.”


The words took a few seconds to sink in. Elmiryn’s steps slowed and her stare turned large and unblinking. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she breathed tremulously.


I shrugged helplessly. “If what you think I’m saying is that we’re cursed, no! That’s not what I’m saying. The truth of the matter is that Quincy and I only suspect that the demons have done something to us. It may not be so bad as a curse. Maybe they just made it so that we could see them without us going insane.”


“But why would they do that?” she asked heatedly.


“I have no idea!”


“They might have turned you and the others into tools,” Elmiryn hissed, her eyes ticking back and forth furiously.


I squinted my eyes. “Pardon?”


She looked at me, a ravenous look in her gaze that made me take an involuntary step back. The warrior still looked very much like a wild woman. “When I escaped Meznik, I made an accidental detour through another world. In this other place, I spoke to two women, our speculums, and—”




Elmiryn took a deep breath through her nose as if she had to reign in her patience at my interruption and I crossed my arms, for once feeling unapologetic. “Elmiryn, you’re going to have to explain if you want me to follow along!”


So she did. She told me about Molly and Julie, our ‘speculums’ from another neighboring universe, and she also told me what secrets they had shared with her. Apparently, Meznik and Izma weren’t just a menace in our world, but across all universes. It all made me dizzy. I was still having trouble comprehending the demons as a danger in our world, let alone that there were more than one they wreaked havoc in.


“So you believe that the demons are trying to make us into tools to use against each other?” I asked slowly.


Elmiryn nodded her head eagerly and resumed walking. I hurried after her. “Yes! It might also explain why you and the others were all bickering with each other so badly.”


“Elle, I think that had more to do with the fact that we just don’t like each other.”


She didn’t respond to that, and I sighed. Perhaps I needed to finally apprise her of the thorny developments that had arisen with our strange group.


“Elmiryn, the situation with the others is…complicated, to say the least,” I said wearily. “I just want to prepare you for what you’re about to see.”


She raised an eyebrow. “And what am I about to see, Nyx?”


I took a deep breath before starting. “Hakeem is a withered husk. I’m not sure how Quincy has managed to keep him alive for so long, but she has. I suppose I’ve grown used to it, having seen it happen before my eyes, but it might be startling for you, to see him like that when your last memory of him is completely different.”


“You’re forgetting that my memory doesn’t work that way anymore,” Elmiryn reminded me gently.


A hand flew to my mouth as my cheeks reddened. “Oh! Of course! I’m sorry, Elle,”


“No, no. Don’t worry about it. Just go on. What else should I ‘brace’ myself for?” And she said it just that way too, emphasizing ‘brace’ as if she could conjure quotation marks into the air by her will alone.


Oh, she had no idea what we had been up to! But I wanted to let her down gently.


“Well, Paulo, as I’ve said before, is older. He’s still an insensitive hooligan, but now on top of that, we’ve learned he’s an untrained enchanter.”


“Oh!” the woman cried with a sarcastic grin. “Well isn’t that lovely!”


I nodded grimly. “I think Quincy has helped Paulo learn some basic techniques she had encountered in Crysen. They’re supposed to help him reign in his abilities, and protect his mind from the residual spirit energy surrounding the tower.”


“And how long will that last him?”


“Quincy says we need to find an enchanting master to train Paulo within the next two months, or the boy is at risk of either going insane, dying of brain fever, or turning all our brains to mush.”


“Marvelous. Anything else about our ragtag adventuring company?”


“Lethia, she—” My voice broke off, and I just stared ahead, blank faced. How do you break this sort of news to someone? It seemed Elmiryn wasn’t the only one who needed to approach this announcement gently. Trying to say it aloud brought back that bloody night in full detail, and with it, all the strong and conflicted emotions that threatened to undo me. And if I felt this way, how would the redhead feel? Before Elmiryn left with Meznik, I had sensed a kind of connection between her and the journeyman enchantress that hadn’t been there before. Would she be terribly upset, or would it slide off of her like rainwater down a blade?


“Nyx, what happened with Lethia?” she asked. “What happened?”


I cursed under my breath. Sweet Aelurus, I wish I didn’t have to do this!


“Elle,” I started quietly. “Lethia cut off her left arm.”


Whereas before Elmiryn had come to a gradual stop, now she just stopped altogether, her face going slack. “She what?


“Her left arm is gone.”


“She lost her fucking arm?


“Just above the elbow. She…she cut it an angle, so we were able to pull the skin closed over the wound—”


“Who did it?” she barked, advancing on me. Her expression had turned sharp and heated. “Who did that to her?”


I retreated from her, alarmed. “I—I just—I just said it! Lethia cut off her arm! She did it to herself!”


She glared. “That can’t be true! Why would someone do something like that? How? A person has to train hard and have the right weapon to cut off a limb in one go! And with one arm no less! What did she use, anyway? I seriously doubt you had a weighted and sharpened weapon just lying around!”


I felt ill when I whispered, “She didn’t do it one go. It took three tries.”


Elmiryn reeled. Burying both hands into her hair. She walked a slow, sloppy circle. When she stopped, her entire body seemed to clench and she turned a violent red. “That’s impossible!” she spat.


Now I started to get heated. “Are you calling me a liar?”


The anger in my voice seemed enough to get the woman to calm down a little. She still paced in front of me, her fists clenched. “No! No. Of course not, Nyx. I just can’t believe… No, I refuse to believe… I mean, why would someone do that? And again, how?


I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Those are the same things we asked!”


“But Lethia is alive, right? I mean, you’ve been talking to me this whole time like Lethia was still alive when you left. Right?


I rubbed at my face, feeling exhausted. “Yes, Elle. Lethia is alive. Aside from intense pain from her wound, she was perfectly fine. In fact, she was doing bicep curls with a water bucket last I spoke to her!”


The warrior’s jaw dropped. “Bicep curls?”


I just nodded mutely.


She shook her head and started marching at a faster clip. Cresting over a hill, Syria’s tower started to rise in the distance.


I barely heard Elmiryn mutter as I fought to keep up with her long strides, “I’ve got to see this for myself!”




The first thing Elmiryn did when we entered the tower grounds was ask where Lethia was. When I told her, she took off, running toward the barn.


“W-Wait!” I sputtered at her retreating back. “You still don’t have any clothes!


She didn’t so much as pause at this. Resigned, I sprinted after her.


When I caught up, it was to find the two women halted inside, as if in suspension. Lethia was lying in her barnstall-turned-bedroom. Elmiryn stared at her as if she were someone she had completely and utterly been unexpected to see. Then it struck me that perhaps the warrior didn’t recognize the girl. She hadn’t recognized me, after all, and I’d traveled with her longest out of our group. Why would this be any different?


Lethia seemed equally bemused by the sight of the warrior. Her lack of clothing didn’t appear to fluster her, though. This was just another strange thing to me, until I also remembered that while the young enchantress no longer had the curse that led her to sapping other people’s memories, she still had the unfortunate condition of being absent-minded.


I was about to jump in and re-introduce the two of them when Lethia recovered from whatever spell she had been under.


“Elmiryn! Welcome back! That is—it is you, isn’t it?” She let loose a nervous laugh and struggled to her feet. Since she only had one arm to balance herself, this looked much harder. I didn’t quite get what a blessing it was to have both arms until then. Brushing straw from her hair, Lethia forced a smile. “Ah, of course it is. What am I saying? I suppose I must look pretty grotesque to you. I trust Nyx explained things?” She glanced at me, and I shrugged, not making eye contact. I wasn’t feeling particularly angry toward her, but just…awkward. Like I was the fool walking back into a room after attempting some grand exit in the wrong direction. Guilt might have been a part of it, too. Maybe.


At Elmiryn’s lengthening silence, I could see Lethia’s false cheer wither and fall away. “Elmiryn, it’s Lethia,” she murmured. Then she sighed roughly and squeezed her eyes shut. “Lethy.


My eyebrows rose. Lethy? A nasty, tight feeling appeared in my chest.


Even after that helpful prod, the Fiamman did not move. Did not speak. It was like she was hoping she was hallucinating. Hoping that it was just her mind playing tricks on her. But when the warrior dropped her eyes, she knew. I knew she knew, because her eyes teared up and her jaw clenched. This might sound odd, but seeing my companion so emotionally turned around by Lethia’s dramatic injury made me feel a little better about myself. Elmiryn looked sad, and horrified, but I could see she was angry too. The dichotomy of her actions was almost a literal translation of what I’d felt the night Lethia had mutilated herself.


The warrior stomped up to the enchantress, her face now red, her eyes blazing, her breath coming hard through her flared nostrils—then she hugged the girl, gently about the shoulders, her eyes squeezing shut to allow two fat tears to stream down her face. Lethia took this without resistance, her face going blank, and her arms still at her sides.


When the woman pulled away to hold her at arms length, I could see her grip dig into the girl’s shoulders.


“You fucking idiot!” Elmiryn spat. She even shook the girl a little, eliciting a light wince from the enchantress.


That was when Lethia shrugged the woman off, her expression hardening. “Don’t tell me you’re like the others! I thought you, of all people, would understand!”


Elmiryn sucked at her teeth sharply, turning to lean on a stall partition. When she looked at the blonde sidelong, it was with a weary expression. “No. I get why you did it. But there are other ways now. No one lives by those old laws anymore!”


“Old laws?” I asked, frowning.


The two women looked at me, as if just remembering I was there. The nasty feeling intensified.


“I’m surprised you didn’t read about it, Nyx,” Elmiryn said, blinking at me. “Back when Fiamma was nothing but warring tribes, there used to be an old law that said great dishonor demanded great personal sacrifice in order to atone.”


Lethia explained next, “During that time, Fiammans didn’t have much in the way of substantial personal effects. They barely had clothes, they shared housing, and even their tools for agriculture were used on a communal basis.”


The enchantress raised an eyebrow at Elmiryn, who picked it up smoothly, “The popular thing to do, then, was to sacrifice children. Usually a first born.”


Lethia smiled wanly. “But in the instance that the offender had no children, they were then expected to sever a limb.”


I crossed my arms and glared. That natural back and forth…where had that come from? “Lethia, you aren’t a Fiamman!”


“In terms of nationality? You’re right, Nyx. I’m an Albian. But my ancestry is obviously Fiamman. When thinking of ways to purify myself, I preferred to follow my roots in this instance, given that everything I knew in Albias was related to the taint my former mistress forced upon me.”


My mouth opened to argue, but I had to snap it shut again. There Lethia went again, sounding so reasonable about things that, by all means, gave her leave not to be.


“That still doesn’t make it the smartest decision,” Elmiryn grumbled, kicking half-heartedly at the partition. She glared down at her feet as she did so, and I wondered if she was avoiding having to look at the girl again.


Lethia rolled her eyes and sat back down on her hay bed. I could see she was pale and a grimace was becoming evident, even as the girl tried to hide it.


Gently, I said to Elmiryn. “We should let her rest.” Then I turned and looked pointedly at the enchantress. “You will rest, right? No more exercising?”


Lethia sighed as she gingerly lay back down. “Daedalus found me out and threatened to put laxative in my food unless I stopped.”


“Good,” I said shortly.


The girl scowled but didn’t respond.


I gestured for Elmiryn to follow. “Let’s go, Elle.”


“Nyx?” Lethia called as we started to leave.


I paused near the barn doors and turned back. “Yes?”


“Hakeem is awake.”


Though I’d heard her perfectly, I didn’t comprehend this right away. When the information managed to filter through my thick head, my hands flew to my mouth.


“He’s…he’s awake?” I stammered.


Lethia grunted as she sat up to peer around her stall partition. “Oh yes! Hakeem woke up from his coma about a day ago.”


“And he’s normal?” Elmiryn asked, her voice tight.


I looked at her, confused by her tone.


Lethia shrugged. “He seemed normal to me. He was sitting up and talking without a problem. No memory loss, no slurring speech, and he moved just fine!”


“Where is he?”


“Up in the tower, most likely,” I answered. “But that can come later. Let me get you settled in first. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re still half-naked!”


She looked like she wanted to argue this, for some reason, when she gave a grudging nod. “All right,” she muttered.

Back to Chapter 44.4 | Forward to Chapter 45.1