“It’s a fickle thing to care about.”
“Caring for a friend isn’t fickle,” he replies, steady and straightforward, but he’s not unkind.
I watch condensation bead down the glass, circling a fingertip along the rim. I contemplate his words, and Arcadia’s screams flash in my mind. How I would’ve torn the world in two and clawed through Hell just to get to her.
I understand care. I give it, fiercely. To have it offered back when you’ve lived without it for so long…the intensity of it burns. Like sunlight on untouched skin.
You bring affection to a table that hasn’t been set. No chairs, no warmth, only dust and forgotten hunger. And then I’m expected to feast. It makes me feel sick.
“Are we friends, Luca?”
“I like to think so. Friends help each other, the way you help me.”
I nearly laugh. If only he knew I started training him to serve my selfish motivations.
I only know I lost control because I remember nothing after Arcadia dying in my arms, nothing after trying to drown us both in my magic, to let us sleep beneath it together.
I know now that none of it was real. It didn’t make sense, not logically. In that moment, my mind was frayed. And still, some part of me can’t shake the fear it was more than an illusion, that it was a glimpse into something real, a real future that I might one day cause.
“Helping me has killed people.” My voice is quiet. I take another sip of water to ease the dryness that lingers in my mouth.
“Do they help you kill people?”
“No, I kill them.”
He says nothing. Just watches me. I reach gently toward his mind, wanting to understand what simmers behind his silence. The moment I taste sympathy, pity, I recoil. I don’t want that from him.
“Is it because I am beautiful that you forgive what I have done? What I continue to do?” My words cut sharp across the room. My anger stirs from the pit of my chest.
“I’ve hope you still have a heart. Is that so bad?”
“That belief will get you killed.”
“Well, it hasn’t yet.” He shrugs softly. “I have no magic. I can’t imagine what it’s like having something dark crawling through your veins. I would hope someone would still see more in me than just that.”
“And what do you see in me, past the darkness?” I laugh, incredulously. The idea is quite comical. My soul swims in shadow. What could he possibly see beyond it?
“You’re smart. Arrogant. A leader. A great teacher. You demand perfection, from yourself and others. You’re controlling—”
I raise a brow, unimpressed.
“—and powerful. And strong. I envy a lot of those traits.”
The man is clearly insane.
“Me Misses is perfect.” Ollie mumbles into the blanket, curled comfortably against my legs.
“We will train later. Shoo now.” I wave him off.
Luca rises with a grand, sweeping bow that tugs a reluctant smile from me, the first since I woke.
“As my lady commands! I will see you tonight!”
Once he leaves, I spend some time snuggling with Ollie, his presence grounding me in a way nothing else ever could. After a while, I finally speak, keeping my voice low in case Nora’s owl is perched in some shadowed corner of my room.
“Ollie, check on Cadia for me.”
He pokes his head from under the blanket, tenting the fabric with one of his long ears.
