The Chronicles of Faylon: Saahira | Chapter 34 (Patreon)

Despite a tranquil evening with Cyprus and Melony, nightmares plagued Saahira without reprieve. Hundreds of disembodied fingers crawled over her arms and legs, paralyzing her, scratching her skin with dirtied, yellowed nails. Trapped in a glass box, Aieuz’s black blood flooded and pooled around her ankles, racing to her knees, so heavy and viscous that she couldn’t lift her feet. Talia and Dimitri watched as she pounded on the glass, wearing victorious expressions that spelled her end. Madora joined them, murmuring hexes that stole her ability to scream. The choir laughed.

After tossing and turning for an eternity, she greeted the sun in the common room, curled up on the plush couch by the fire. She’d dragged her blanket downstairs, hoping a change of scenery would help her find a dreamless sleep. Unfortunately, even with the comfort of the sofa and a merrily crackling fire, new dreams of an inferno catching hold of her lungs surfaced, stirring her from what little rest she’d managed.

With a final sigh, she dragged her feet up the stairs to her room, dressed, collected her satchel, and left the still-sleeping Idrian Block to fetch breakfast. Even on their days off, the dining hall was open to students, and some alone time would give her a chance to write the first of many letters she’d promised to her family.

At least the morning vendors in Odalric greeted her with a cheery disposition. It was good to see faces that didn’t wish for her demise after an entire night filled with them. She scratched her arm, feeling the echoes of calloused fingertips against her skin. After breakfast, she would take a very, very long bath.

Just one other student was in the dining hall when Saahira arrived, a young man a few years her senior poring over a thick tome and scrawling notes on parchment. He didn’t look up when she entered, which was well with her. She picked a seat on the opposite end of the room and retrieved her quill, ink, and brilight paper.

“Good morning, dear.” An older woman with a kind smile and wrinkles that suggested years of good humor greeted Saahira with a bow. A shelled demon that looked a lot like the turtles Saahira and Isa would find on the riverbank relaxed on the woman’s shoulder, feet curled beneath its small head, scaled eyes closed.

Saahira started. It could have been any one of the servants of the sanctum, and it still would have had the same effect. Seeing the uniform and the demon brought flashes of Madora’s impassive face to the forefront of Saahira’s mind. Would she need to be wary of every sanctum servant with a demon? Surely not all of them were trained in hexlations. Some would know more of demonology or be skilled in the other arts. In such other cases, how could she prevent spells or Turns? The ward on her wrist would do little to block a Death Turn.

“Are you quite all right, dear? Here, a little water should refresh you.” The woman filled Saahira’s glass with a practiced hand. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I know it’s very quiet at this hour.”

Or they could be experts in alchemy. Carrying poisons to add to my food. Saahira’s stomach turned as she watched gazed at the liquid contained within the glass.

-Control your fear, Saahira,- the choir rumbled.

As much as their chiding struck a nerve, they were right. If she stayed afraid of every single servant in the sanctum, she may as well leave. They were essential to the daily lives of the students and the upkeep of the sanctum. Besides, her absence was exactly what Talia, Dimitri, and Madora wanted. She had to trust that the headmaster and professors were doing what they could to keep her safe.

Holding her breath, Saahira took a drink of water. It was crisp, cool, and didn’t taste any different than the water she’d enjoyed in the dining hall almost every day.

She counted to five.

Nothing happened.

Of course it could be a slow-acting toxin—

No. Stop thinking like that.

“That’s much better. Thank you,” Saahira said, forcing a smile.

“Of course, dear. Now, would you like a hot or cold breakfast?”

The meal was blessedly poison-free and helped chase away the residual dread that always settles in after a long night of nightmares. Once she was finished eating, the older servant returned with a cup of hot tea, her demon yawning and stretching with grumbles of “early shifts.”

“An additional treat for your day, dear.”

The gesture reminded Saahira of the tea Mother would make after extended night shifts at the Bull. Saahira accepted the cup and sipped, enjoying the sweet taste of honey as it trickled down her throat. After the woman excused herself and Saahira nursed her tea for a time, she finally dipped her quill in the ink and started writing.

Dear Mother, Father, and Isa,

It’s been a little over a week since I last saw you, but it feels like years. How are you? How’s the village? Is Jeremi getting along well at the Bull?

The sanctum is enormous. Far beyond what any of us had imagined. My professors are all incredibly powerful, and the other students come from every corner of the world. I have classes with elves, flügels, vampires, and therianthropes, which are like shapeshifters. They all have such immense histories in nobility and magic. I’ll admit it’s intimidating.

Oh, but I’ve made new friends who help me study and spend time with me outside of classes! So Father, please stop worrying that I’m lonely! I think Isa will love to know that I share my room with a real princess. She comes from Aṣálẹ and tells the best stories. She’s one of those friends. I’ll tell you more about all of them in my future letters. I’m still finding out myself.

There’s so much to learn, and I’m studying as best as I can. There’s always something new to study or a paper to write after class ends. Thank you, Mother, for all of your time teaching me about herbs and tinctures. I believe because of that, I’ve showed a lot of promise in alchemy. I was one of three students to make a new potion perfectly this week.

Give my love to Jeremi, Hahn, and Barclay. Please write to me when you can. I miss you so much.

Each word languidly emerged from her quill as she chose what to disclose with care. Even as excited as Mother had been for Saahira’s aptitude to appear, she would no doubt demand that Saahira come home if she knew there’d been an attempt on her life. In the invitational documents she’d received, Saahira and her mother had pored over a lengthy missive that warned of potential harm and the danger of magic, but, admittedly, they’d thought it exaggerated. Just how deadly it could truly be hadn’t struck her until Professor Gallowood’s warning. Then it struck her again with Madora’s hex.

But the craving to learn and understand more of her powers kept her feet firmly planted on sanctum soil. And the thought of leaving her friends behind tore at her chest.

Nia, Anya, Melony, Cyprus…

Cyprus.

She’d almost written about him but had stopped herself. What if someone in Almaryn did know of Cyprus’s father and told her parents? They’d be mortified. Moreso to know the feelings that grew in her heart.

No, better to tell them in person. Maybe even introduce him.

She blushed at the thought.

Signing off on the letter, she folded it with deft fingers and slid it inside one of the envelopes she’d taken from the desk in her room. When the servant appeared one more time to refill Saahira’s tea, she offered to send the letter.

“Al-mar-yn?” The turtle demon extended its neck nearly the length of Saahira’s forearm to gain a closer look at the envelope. It spoke each syllable as if tasting it, eyes blinking one at a time. “Just where is that?”

“Now, now. Don’t be nosey, Oromi.” The woman affectionately tapped his shell and the neck retreated. “We’ll make sure it arrives safe and sound. Have a blessed Kalyna, dear.”

The mention of the day reminded Saahira that she’d promised Basile to have dinner with him. When the servant was out of sight, she rested her elbows against her thighs and groaned into both palms. Everyone in the sanctum knew she’d been hexed, and Basile would want to know more. Which meant repeating the story all over again. Reliving the interrogation all over again.

Before the choir could point out her welling emotions or “false expectations,” she swallowed both back and took a measured breath. She could enjoy her long bath. Hide away in her room until five o’clock—Nia would surely be exploring more of Odalric—and then take the conversation as it came.

-Very good, Saahira.-

Her skin warmed, and her heart skipped with their praise. Was that her own reaction or was it what they wanted her to feel?

Packing up her things, Saahira decided it didn’t really matter. All she wanted was that bath.

It was thirty minutes before five o’clock when Saahira finally felt ready to face Basile. She was clean and refreshed from a nap. As she’d guessed, Nia was gone when she’d returned from breakfast, and the room was vacant for the day. But in Nia’s flurry to get ready, she’d left some of her makeup items out on her desk, which Saahira used a small amount of to line her eyes and color her lips. Then she brushed out her hair for the dozenth time, keeping it loose, though the black tendrils still carried the crimps and waves from Nia’s braids. They gave her hair a fetching, flowing curl that she’d never achieved with quick, unkempt braids. Before she left the mirror’s gaze, she picked up the hair ornament from Lady Agaline’s tower and fit it just over her left ear.

A servant knocked on the door, Saahira’s clean clothing bundled in her arms. Everything was returned just as punctually as Nia had promised, and was stored inside of Saahira’s trunk. The moment the woman left the room, Saahira leapt from the bed and rushed to fetch her cloak. The holes had been meticulously mended with stitches so tiny that a casual onlooker would never know that there were holes to begin with. Even the hem was pressed and resewn in the places the threads had become loose. It looked as new as the day she’d completed it—if not improved with a straightened hem. She wrapped it around her shoulders and inhaled deeply, the clean scents of floral soap and lavender filling her nose.

Setting the cape on her bed, Saahira quickly browsed through her limited wardrobe, finding the same care and treatment taken on each one of her garments. No more holes. A patch she’d sewn in her long black skirt had been removed, the fabric resewn to accommodate. It was still a far cry from any of the attire her peers wore, but all of it now had the attention of an expert tailor. She smiled as she set aside her brown corset, white shirt, and twin skirts. It was the first outfit she’d worn in the sanctum, but now it felt entirely new. Even the tiny stains she’d accumulated on the sleeve of her white shirt from meals were gone, and every wrinkle had been ironed away.

When she descended the stairs to the common room just before five, she found three older girls on the couch near the fireplace, tittering with excitement.

“—really not here for you?”

“Come now, Karissa, he may not be waiting for anyone at all.”

“Oh?” Karissa giggled and gave the third girl a conspiratorial look. “What other business would Basile Renoult have on the steps of Idrian Block?”

“Maybe we are his newest area of research?” The third raised an eyebrow. “You know what they say about the ladies of Idrian.”

Karissa stretched out a hand and looked at her manicured fingernails. “That we are quite flexible indeed.”

“Karissa.” The first girl blushed profusely and shook her head, swishing her silver hair to the sides and revealing long, pointed ears. “Oh, you are both incorrigible.”

“Why would that be, Ariel? You blush and speak as if you haven’t had such flexible imaginings about Basile,” the third girl said. “I know the things you pen into your journal at night.”

Ariel squealed and struck the third girl with a pillow. Karissa laughed.

Saahira held tightly to the strap of her satchel and marched forward, heat rising to her cheeks. The floor held her attention, letting her hair fall on either side of her face, and she avoided looking at any of the girls on the couch. The door’s cool handle was her safety as she pulled it open to find Basile on the steps, at ease, both hands slid inside his pockets.

“Good evening, Saahira.” Basile smiled, and the golden wings at his head flicked outward. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. You look lovely.”

Saahira closed the door, but not before she heard the gasps of the girls on the couch. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears and returned Basile’s smile. “Thank you.”

He freed one of his hands from his pocket and touched the hair ornament above her ear with a look of curiosity. “Was this made in the Tokiatsu Province?”

 “I think so.” Saahira could smell the same lightly floral scent from his wings and his skin. He’d traded his white trousers, vest, and shirt for fabrics the color of the midnight sky. Gold embroidery swirled around the vest that buttoned above his navel, letting the wings on his back move freely. “It was a gift from Agaline’s Tower. My friend took me there on Oriana.”

“You wear it well.” Basile withdrew his hand and replaced it in his pocket. Then he gestured down the steps with one wing. “Shall we?”

Basile led them down the steps and across the courtyard. The sun hung low in the sky, still providing just enough light to see by for the students strewn over the grass and lounging in the benches with textbooks and parchment.

“You have had a very busy three days,” he began. Saahira braced herself. She’d known this was coming. “I’ve heard it told that you were hexed shortly after we spoke on Cahaya. Is that true?”

“It is. Right outside my dormitory. Then yesterday Lillith, Lodovico, and the headmaster met with me and the demon who cast it.” Saahira toyed with the newly tailored hem of her cloak, wondering if she should tell him what had transpired. Headmaster Erato hadn’t told her outright to keep the events to herself, and she trusted Cyprus and Melony to keep the information to themselves, but sharing with Nia and Basile could spread rumors like wildfire. And if that knowledge created the same kind of panic she’d felt that morning amongst her peers, she imagined the headmaster wouldn’t be pleased.

Nia already knew that the caster was a demon. That wasn’t new information. So Saahira settled on the shortest explanation possible. “Headmaster Erato killed the demon, and the caster was taken away.”

“Was it a student?”

“No.” Saahira shook her head.

“Someone from the city? A rogue sorcerer, perhaps?”

His thirst for information would not be so easily sated, it seemed. “I don’t think I should say.”

Basile’s eyes widened. He freed his hands to cross one arm across his chest and held his chin between his pointer finger and thumb in the other. “A member of the sanctum, then?”

“Basile.”

But he was unreachable, carried away with his own thoughts. “It would have to be. You said outside of your dormitory. Only students, professors, and sanctum servants can cross this bridge.” They were crossing the very bridge he spoke of as he said it. He tapped the cobblestone with the toe of his boot. “It wasn’t a professor, or there would be an uproar. That means it was a sanctum servant.”

“I don’t want to scare the other students.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve no interest in spreading panic. I’m interested in what prompted the attack.”

“They wouldn’t say.” Saahira glanced over her shoulder at the bridge as they continued walking. “Why can’t anyone else cross the bridge?”

“A very clever ward with our energy signatures stored inside serves as a barrier. It’s crafted and maintained by Professor Gallowood, Professor Moborí, and Professor Lawrence.” Basile waved a hand in the air, brushing away the information as a distraction. “Is it your ability to speak with the Six? Your affinity to every element? But why would a servant attack you for either?”

“I don’t know.” The same heavy exhaustion Saahira had felt after the interrogation crept into her bones. She didn’t want to do this all over again. Somehow, it was worse when made into a guessing game.

“You don’t have to share their name. I’m certain I can find the schedules for servants in Mr. Hirokazu’s office. There are not many servants with demons at the sanctum, and simply comparing the old and new schedules will narrow it down—”

“Don’t.” Saahira’s steps halted.

At last, Basile paused and looked up. “Hm?”

“You don’t have to look into this or try to answer it. There isn’t an answer.”

A knowing smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and his wings stretched to the sides. “There’s always an answer.”

Because I’m a Paramour of Chaos. “Then I don’t want to find it.”

Basile tilted his head, the wings on either side fluttering with the movement. “You don’t want to know why someone would kill you?”

It so sounded foolish when she said it out loud. Meanwhile her apprehension of sharing this unheard of title warred on her tongue.

“Are you afraid of knowing?” Basile stepped closer and leaned forward, close enough so that his mouth was right at her ear. “Or are you more afraid of harming others with this knowledge?” His breath was hot on her skin. Goosebumps raised on her forearms. “Anything you tell me remains strictly between us. Mr. Hirokazu trusts me with dangerous knowledge every day, Saahira.” He retreated two steps back and held out a hand. “Will you?”

Saahira’s heart skipped and her mind raced. She felt the first touches of her energy prickle at her stomach and promise power in her fingertips.

She took his hand.