The Chronicles of Faylon: Saahira | Chapter 27 (Patreon)

Panic saturated Saahira’s thoughts and sped her breathing.

A demon.

Did you hex me?! Saahira demanded of the choir. Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked away from Professor Lodovico. Confusion, fury, and frustration knotted in her stomach, rising to her throat.

-We cannot cast spells through the Wall.- There was an off-key note in the choir’s words that took her off guard—pain. As if her accusation had offended them.

For the span of a few heartbeats, she felt guilty for her assumption. But the notion was swallowed whole by the knowledge that they had to know just who—or what—had hexed her. If Lillith was the one they needed to discern the spell, then the choir should have witnessed it firsthand.

You saw them, didn’t you? The demon who did this?

Silence.

Answer me!

-You owe us one debt already, Saahira. Are you requesting another?-

Saahira froze. A debt?

“—one this to you?” Professor Lodovico’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Saahira blinked and hissed out a breath. “What?”

“Do you know who cast the hex, Miss Montarac?” Lodovico’s scrutinizing gaze and measured words as he repeated the question burned Saahira’s anger to ash.

“O-Oh. No, sir,” she murmured. As far as she knew, neither Dimitri nor Talia had summoned a demon. Lillith had made it crystal clear that she accompanied any of her first years who wanted to make a pact. Blaming them now would only sound silly.

“Hm.” Lodovico reached inside the breast pocket of his robe and withdrew a silver chain. At its center was a small green gemstone cut in a perfect circle. “Customarily, I distribute wards to students in the second week of class. However, in this circumstance, I believe an exception is necessary. Your wrist, please.”

Saahira lifted her arm and watched in silence as Lodovico attached the tiny clasp together around her wrist.

“This is a second-tier hex ward. Your peers will bear first-tier wards,” he said. “Ensure that this stone has constant contact with your skin. Should another hex be cast upon you, it will glow, and you will feel it grow warmer. If that happens, find me immediately.”

Saahira lowered her arm and touched the stone. Only a little larger than her thumbnail, it raised up from her skin in a smooth half-sphere. “Are there hexes that this ward can’t counter?”

Lodovico frowned. “Yes. But if you find yourself at their mercy, we have far greater problems.”

Saahira shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Lodovico returned to the center desk with Vivenzio, speaking quietly in what she assumed was Elvish—she couldn’t make out a single word that reached her. Chelsea approached and refilled the water cup, no longer needing to take Saahira’s temperature with the mystery of her ailment solved. Glad for something to do besides stare at the wall, Saahira sipped at her water. As she watched the ripples churn along its surface, her mind spun with a hundred possibilities, all more unlikely than the last.

Thankfully, it didn’t take nearly as long for Matsutoya to return with Lillith. The succubus unfurled her leathery wings after passing the doorway, sparing a quick glance for Saahira before convening with Professor Lodovico at the desk. Lodovico handed Lillith the circle of Saahira’s blood, and she brought it closer to her face. Her golden eyes glowed like twin stars as she peered down at the sample, and her wings twitched with agitation when the corners of her lips dipped into a frown. The stars were snuffed out with her blink, and she made her way to Saahira’s side, her heels clicking in a hurried rhythm against the floor. Lodovico followed close behind.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Lillith said without a greeting or formality.

Saahira fingered the gemstone on her wrist and crossed her ankles. She recounted aloud her arrival in the dormitory courtyard and then feeling the sudden rush of air leaving her lungs. When the image of Dimitri and Talia on their bench resurfaced, she hesitated, wondering just how much of the rest of her story she should divulge.

“Saahira, I need you to tell me everything.” Lillith’s tone was uncharacteristically cross, her brow furrowed.

“I… I saw Dimitri Centofanti and Talia Chavadieu sitting on a bench. Watching me. Smiling.” The confession felt heavy on her tongue and heavier on her chest. Matsutoya’s warning echoed in her ears, and the woman herself stood beside Vivenzio’s desk, watching the exchange with a keen interest, tapping her glasses against her arm.

“I struggle to believe that either of them would be so foolish.” Lodovico took the circle of blood from Lillith and studied it again.

“Do not be so quick to defend them, Agandaur,” Lillith said sternly. “Please continue, Saahira.”

Saahira squirmed beneath their joined interrogation. The professors exchanged muted frowns, casting glares from the corners of their eyes that suggested a longstanding mistrust. A silent storm brewed between them, and she feared being at its center.

“W-Well, since we had just practiced counter hexes in class, I tried to break it,” Saahira explained. “But I used the wrong qalen’rua.”

Lodovico’s shoulders straightened by inches. Something like pride crossed his steady gaze. “Matsutoya mentioned that you broke it successfully?” he asked.

Saahira nodded. “I did. After the choir gave me the right word.”

Lillith’s eyes widened. Lodovico looked between them, his agitation compounded. “What is this ‘choir’?”

“Saahira is a chosen of the Six,” Lillith replied.

Surprise looked strange on Professor Lodovico’s face. His features struggled to find their positions, and when they finally did, they were awkward and stilted. It was an expression clearly long out of practice.

“This girl—?” Lodovico began.

“Yes,” Lillith interrupted.

“Have you established a pact?” Lodovico asked.

“No, sir.” Saahira lifted the water cup to her lips. It was empty. She pretended to drink it anyway.

“Which is exactly why they should not have given you the right word,” Lillith said. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her tail flicked from side to side. “They will view this as a debt to be repaid—”

A debt. She said it, too. Saahira shivered.

Lodovico recovered his cold disposition and raised a hand, silencing Lillith. “Save discussions of demonology for your classroom, professor. We need to know who hexed Miss Montarac.” He returned his attention to Saahira. “Have you informed any others of your connection with the Six?”

“Just a few people—”

“Names, Miss Montarac.”

“Right. Um, just my friends. Nia Folayan, Cyprus Reyner, Melony Truefang, Leon Iosava, and Basile Renoult.” Saahira wasn’t sure if she could truly call Leon and Basile her friends, but it made the list easier. “Why? Should I not have?”

“There isn’t an exact precedent for that question. We haven’t had a student with a connection to the Six for…” Lodovico looked to Lillith for assistance. She averted her gaze and busied herself with straightening her dress. Somehow, his frown deepened. “At least fifty years. However, when one student attacks another, envy is a highly probable cause.”

“May I?” Lillith asked sharply.

Lodovico’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded.

“Hexing—or even killing—Saahira would not win a student the attention of the Six.”

Saahira flinched at how easily Lillith mentioned her death. So cold and unfeeling.

“While we understand that, a student may not. Emotions rarely take logic into account,” Lodovico replied, the same chill reaching his tone.

“Yet you so hastily removed the possibility of Dimitri and Talia,” Lillith retorted.

“Has either student forged a pact with a demon?”

Lillith raised her chin, the tiniest show of defiance. “No.”

“Then the chance of their involvement is minimal.” Lodovico passed Saahira’s blood back to Lillith. “How long do you require before you have an answer?”

Lillith accepted the circle, glowering at Lodovico with palpable enmity. “Give me two days.” Her gaze softened when she looked at Saahira. “Will you please come to my classroom on Teralyna at six o’clock? We can discuss my findings there.”

“Yes. Of course,” Saahira murmured.

“You as well, Agandaur,” Lillith added.

Lodovico raised one sharp eyebrow. “I presumed that was implied.”

Lillith eyed the ward on Saahira’s wrist, spared one last incredulous look at Lodovico, then left the infirmary. Lodovico watched her go, then sighed and reached once more into the breast pocket of his robe.

“Your wrist, Miss Montarac.” He withdrew a second chain, this one bearing a gemstone of deep violet. “This…is a third-tier ward.”

It was an hour after their meeting time when Saahira pushed through the door of The Last Gasp. Relief spilled over her like rain when she found Cyprus and Melony sitting at the same round table near the bar. Melony spotted her first.

“Saahira! Praise Ekkel, I am starving!” Melony howled. A patron across the room glanced over his shoulder at her and chuckled. She continued, unabated, “I tried snacking on the table, but Jaxson and the king stopped me. Can you believe them?”

Cyprus stood and pulled the third chair away from the table, gesturing for Saahira to sit. He studied her closely as she did so, and the confusion clouding his expression turned to worry. Why did she always have to worry him like this? “What happened?”

All it took were two little words, and all of her anger and fear and frustration collapsed inside of an overwhelming sadness that Saahira didn’t have a name for. Her lungs burned with the echo of the hex while tears streamed down her cheeks. Someone—a demon—had tried to kill her; or, at the very least, had made it known that they could. If, or rather when, Dimitri’s and Talia’s families found out that she’d blamed them, her time at the sanctum was over. She owed the choir a debt, and judging by Lillith’s reaction, that was not something she wanted. And thanks to all of this, she’d let down her friends. Kept them anxious and waiting.

Was there anything that she was good at?

Melony sprang from her chair and rushed to Saahira’s side, falling to one knee and peering up at her. “No, Saahira! Don’t cry! It’s fine that you’re late! I’m not mad! Cyprus isn’t, either! Right, king?” She patted Saahira’s back.

“Of course I’m not mad.” Cyprus dragged his chair closer to Saahira’s and took a seat.

Saahira rested her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with her quiet sobs. A bottle had been uncorked, and there was no putting it back. Fingers reached out and gently lifted the purple gemstone on her wrist, turning it this way and that in the dim light.

“Were you wearing that bracelet before? I don’t remember seeing it.” Melony asked.

Saahira shook her head.

“Is this a hex ward?” Cyprus’s voice came next.

Saahira nodded, sniffling into her palms. Melony hissed through her teeth.

“Gods damned cretins.” Venom dripped from Cyprus’s words as his touch vanished. “Who hexed you?”

The tears stopped at last, and Saahira lowered her trembling hands. Jaxson passed by their table, sliding Saahira a mug of ale with an encouraging smile and a wink. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Melony snagged her chair and moved it until they sat in a tight group, the legs squealing against the floor. Saahira took a long drink, letting its warmth rest her nerves and slow her thoughts before speaking.

“A demon,” Saahira said just loud enough for Cyprus and Melony to hear. “A demon hexed me.” She didn’t want anyone else in the tavern to hear her confession.

“A demon commanded by a mortal,” Cyprus corrected. The kindness in his eyes was gone, replaced with the cold, calculating fury that had only surfaced once before when he’d reached his breaking point. His mouth pulled into a thin line, and his hands were clenched into fists. “This was no accident.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Tell us what happened,” Melony prompted.

With a brief nod, Saahira emptied her mug. Jaxson brought another round of drinks for all of them without asking. Then she told them, keeping her voice as low as possible. There were only two other patrons at a table on the other side of the room, but after the hex, every stranger was suddenly an untrustworthy adversary. Someone who could steal her air with just a handful of words. The fewer who heard, the better.

For the second time that day, she recounted the event. From the moment she felt the breath leave her chest to countering it with the choir’s assistance. Then she moved on to Matsutoya’s doubt, Lodovico’s test, and the conversation between him and Lillith.

What she refrained from mentioning was the debt she now owed the choir. The hex alone was more than enough for them to fret over.

“I won’t know any more until Teralyna,” Saahira said, completing her story.

Silence filled the space between them until Melony slammed her fist against the table.

“Miserable vermin! I’ll tear ‘em to shreds!” Melony snarled.

“We don’t know who did it, though,” Saahira said.

Cyprus’s narrowed stare was far beyond Saahira or Melony, long past the maps on the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the stone dangling from his earring hung completely still. Saahira realized that she hadn’t really seen him at his most upset. Not until now.

“I’ll call off my run tomorrow and stay by your side the whole day,” Melony punctuated the suggestion with a host of animated gestures. “If anyone tries something like that again—”

“They can’t while I’m wearing this.” Saahira pointed to the ward. “You should go on your run. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Cyprus said. At last, he unfastened his stare from the wall and looked at Saahira. “I’d planned on inviting you to spend the day with me anyway. If you’ll allow me, of course.”

Saahira was too numb to blush. The well of her feelings was empty, having soaked her hands and trickled into her ale. “That sounds really nice.”

Bristling, Melony hissed, “Will that be enough? I’m serious, it’ll be so easy to shift tomorrow. No silly spell will stop my full strength beneath the moons. I’ll have their pathetic throats in the dirt before they can finish the hex.”

A tiny smile quirked at the corners of Saahira’s lips. “I think you would be punished with more than expulsion if you went that far, Melony.”

“They’d have to catch me first.” Sharp teeth glittered in the lamplight, settling between a sneer and a snarl.

“She’ll be safe,” Cyprus said.

Saahira traced the rim of her mug with one finger, studying the woodgrain and sniffing back the last remnants of her crying. This was meant to be a night of celebration. They’d successfully made it through their first week of classes and could relax. Gods, she wanted to relax. The friends who had protected her at every turn deserved the time even more. Her lower lip trembled.

Cyprus caught her hand in the middle of its journey around the mug and lowered it to rest on the table. “You are not a hindrance.”

He read her like a book. Looking down into her lap, she nodded. Melony reached out a tentative hand, then let it settle on Saahira’s head and stroked her hair. Her lip stilled, and she forced herself to take deep, measured breaths.

They stayed like that for some time before Jaxson came to the table, four bowls and a plate of bread balanced on a wooden tray. “Is this a good time? Figured the three of you were hungry.”

“Yes. Moons, yes,” Melony whined, eagerly accepting her two bowls of stew.

Jaxson set the remaining bowls in front of Saahira and Cyprus before leaving the bread at the table’s center.

“I know it’s none o’ my business, lass, but I promise, ya aren’t the first student to cry in my tavern, and you won’t be the last. There’s no shame in it.” Jaxson shifted the tray beneath his arm as he addressed Saahira. “What you kids do at the sanctum is no easy thing.”

Saahira withdrew her hand from Cyprus’s and clasped them in her lap. “Thank you, Jaxson.”

Waving a dismissive hand through the air, Jaxson shook his head. “Think nothing of it. Can I get ya another drink?”

Saahira glanced at Melony, who had already finished her first bowl of stew. The last thing she wanted was to abuse Melony’s kindness and rack up a giant tab.

“Ah, your meal’s been paid up already,” Jaxson said, seeming to notice Saahira’s insecurity.

All three of them looked up in surprise. Melony raised her spoon and cried, “A third bowl for me—!”

“Just hers, lass.” Gesturing to Saahira, Jaxson chuckled. “Another lad caught sight of ya while you were talking and offered to cover it.”

“Who?” Melony and Cyprus asked in tandem.

“Dunno.” Jaxson shrugged. “Haven’t seen him in before. Not much for talking.” He glanced toward the door as if it would give up the mystery benefactor’s name. “I’m guessin’ a first year like yourselves.”

Someone’s always watching me. The thought was both chilling and comforting as Saahira scooped her first bite of stew onto her spoon. “Then, I’ll take another drink, please,” she said.

“And a third bowl for me!” Melony cheered. Saahira and Cyprus looked at her with varying levels of humored curiosity. “What? If I’m not paying for hers, I can have another one.”

For the first time that night, Saahira giggled. Cyprus’s expression softened with the sound, and he relaxed in his chair.

Maybe their night wasn’t ruined after all.