Lone Gold, Daring Purple ✓ | Sorcerers, framed, runaway

23: Do they really need each other?

At the entrance, Kirlan came to greet them. "Cypur, Wescherlie wanted to talk to you as soon as you got back."

"Alright," he answered and caught Daero's tailtip twitch.

Hiding something? Cypur wondered. Probably nothing. He dismissed it as he headed to Wescherlie's room.

Connected to his Faud somewhat, the tingles of his magick, if he concentrated, fizzed at the tips of his fingers. Adrenaline whizzed through his body at top speed. If Wescherlie was ready to try her wings and leave this place, he knew he could tonight.

And if she's not ready, I'll practice magick at the lake. He decided. Floating could determine his magick energy levels, so he did want to see how high he could go in one leap. There were some explosive spells he wanted to try, too. Now that he had access to a large open space, he could finally practice it in full instead of the tiny sparks in his parents' backyard.

Once he got to Wescherlie's room, he knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came a cheerful, whispery reply.

"C—Your Narsy friend." He smirked and could imagine her smiling.

"Password accepted," she said, and he went in. Wescherlie was sitting up on her bed, arm still in a sling, and with a white glow hovering around her wing and shoulder. Mint was strong in the room along with several other herbal scents he couldn't identify. He pulled up a chair next to her bed and wrinkled his nose.

"Smells like a teabag exploded," he said, but she only gave a faint smile. Wescherlie not laughing at a joke meant something must be up. He searched her face, her pointed mouth like a beak, her purple eyes, high cheeks from smiling so much, and her hands gently laced together.

She pointed to a corner of the room piled with used ceramic bowls, spoons, and cups, all stained a different color. "That's where the smell's thickest. I went over there out of curiosity and practically sneezed myself to the moon."

Cypur snickered at that. "Good luck getting down from there." But she didn't share the laugh. Silence filled the room. His heart thumped. Was she going to say she would never fly again? Maybe the injury was worse than they all thought? What bad news was she about to drop?

When she spoke at last, she didn't even look him in the eyes. A faint smile played upon her lips. "I've been thinking, you know, how my wing's hurt and, you're having to wait for me to get better and you're perfectly fine. I can tell you have your full magick back."

His heart sank at those words. She was pushing him away. A chill surrounding him, rendering him cold. "No, Wes—"

"Just, I think," she sighed and lowered her gaze, "I'm just being hunted, but you need to clear your name. Your stakes are higher. Bounty hunters? That's normal Rauvuren life. They're always after us."

"But—" He tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.

"I'll be fine here. They'll take care of me." Wescherlie lifted her head to give a smile that didn't reflect in her eyes, tear blurring over. "You need to go." Her voice dropped further, but in the silent room, it reverberated in his ears. "You don't need me. And I," She paused to blink and met his gaze, "I don't need you."

It was a dagger to his heart. Pain zipped through his chest, an injury that magick couldn't heal. Didn't they promise to see to the end for each other? They were partners in crime, weren't they?

'I don't need you' echoed in his head over and over. Rationally, yes, he knew Daero would take care of her. On top that, he would probably have better chance of not getting caught by police if he went out to Zarkentauf alone.