Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 63.2 - Aster

I gasp, leaning back into my chair. My hands tremble in my lap. No, it wasn't what it looked like. I... That was my body, but it wasn't dead. The magic wouldn't show me that. I wasn't dead.

My eyes drift closed. It's like the world is trying to wipe the memory of the Jacquelines from this castle. And Leavi... "Why was she with me?" I murmur, eyes drifting open. Socializing with her will still seem odd to the castle—anyone that recognizes her as Riszev's servant will think it a scandal for me to have anything more to do with her.

I didn't mean for you to die.

Ollem enters, and I straighten in my seat. He sets the tray in my lap.

"Thank you."

I just won't let Leavi inside the training room. Whatever it is the vision wanted to warn me of, it won't matter. I just won't let Leavi in there.

The rest of the afternoon, Solus doesn't send for me. I send Ollem away and spend the time curled up on my bed, trying to think of some other source of magic to use. I doze off intermittently, but I'm not sure I care. If I did, I would sit up. But everything ought to be over, and I'm so tired.

In the morning, I feel like my half-asleep mind thought of something last night, but I can't quite remember what it was. It was probably nonsense, but I wonder if it would have been a good place to start. All I can remember is half-thoughts of the Meadow and the Void.

Ollem brings in breakfast, and I sit up. He starts setting out my clothes. My hand shakes lightly as I eat.

"Do you want to wear your ceremonial cloak, milord?"

I look at him. "What?"

He shifts. "For this morning... If you want your ceremonial cloak, I need to fetch it from the other room."

Through the morning fog in my mind, it suddenly clicks. Solus said the memorials were today.

"Ahm, yes. The ceremonial one. You set out my mourning clothes?"

He holds up the maroon shirt. "Yes, milord."

"Good. Please." I gesture.

He bows and leaves. I get up slowly, balancing with the edge of the bed. I hope I'll be able to stand throughout both events.

I don't want to go.

The thought hits me hard, but I pull on the mourning clothes. I've never wanted so badly just to hide from the world. But hiding doesn't solve anything, and not going dishonors the woman who was my wife.

I sit down hard on the edge of my bed, throat tight and heavy. My eyes burn, and my hands fist in my lap. I slide down to the floor, and my head leans against my drawn up knees. A silent sob shakes my shoulders.

In my mind's eye, bodies fall at my hands, a whirlwind consumes my uncle, my mother burns, my father dies and I don't know it, my wife dies and I was too busy murdering Kadranians to stop it.