Chapter Six: An Unexpected Departure | Part 4
Thirtyx knew it had been a couple of bars because he could see the clock now in the first rays of dawn creeping through the window. Rhea seemed to notice as well. She stood to pace. “Six bars after the Tixe,” she murmured. “But that’s only if the horses are rested. They’ll be in the Tixe nearly two days. They’re going to be tired, depending on when they last made camp—”
“Time-stopped or not, Obelie’s not going to want to rest long,” Benn chimed in. “You think it’s torture sitting here overnight? It’s been nearly two days for her with no information.” He rubbed his eyes from mingled exhaustion and sorrow. “But once she’s here, we’ll be there in no time. It won’t be long now.”
“You guys are really safe to teleport like this?” Thirtyx immediately wished he hadn’t voiced his concerns. Benn gaped like the words had stabbed him in the side, and Rhea’s brow furrowed in frustration.
“I don’t care how much sleep we’ve lost, or how complex a spell it is. We’re getting there,” she said. “And it’s not going to kill us if we mess it up… I don’t think.”
Perhaps they didn’t need to hear that another family tragedy brought on by a botched teleportation attempt would make things infinitely worse, so Thirtyx held his tongue. Benn rose from the desk chair and stretched. The restless energy in Thirtyx’s gut writhed in despair. Could he handle both of them pacing?
Rhea let out a surprised gasp. Her hands flew to her mouth. Thirtyx followed her gaze, but it was aimed straight at the wall. “Obelie’s in range,” she cried. “Half a bar out. Come on, Benn. Let’s go down to the gates.”
Benn nodded, but neither of them moved. Instead, both stared at Thirtyx as if searching him for something. Comfort? Reassurance? He took in a deep breath. “The palace said he would be okay. He’s going to be fine, and he’ll be really glad to see you both. Even if you feel helpless, you’ll be helping just by being there with him.”
The tears spilled over from Rhea’s eyes again, and Benn’s breath rattled as he exhaled. They took a moment to collect themselves, then each patted Thirtyx on the shoulder as they departed the room.
Thirtyx went to the window. His view of the gates was distant and largely occluded by trees, but most of the courtyard was visible. The headmistress must have been tipped off, because she soon marched into view, even more severe looking than normal in a black cloak. A few fractions later, the twins emerged, staring numbly ahead much as they had for the last several bars.
They disappeared into the trees just as a carriage pulled up to the sliver of the gate Thirtyx could see. He couldn’t make out any activity around it. It sat for several fractions, in which Thirtyx fell into a sort of exhausted trance. Then, when he had mostly forgotten what he was waiting for, it pulled away.
He shook himself back awake and, despite a lifelong lack of religious sentiment, sent up a prayer to the Twins to keep his friends safe and comforted.
Headmistress Azirenne walked back up the path, and Thirtyx pried himself away from the window. Despite having five bars until class, Thirtyx was far too anxious to sleep. He settled into the desk chair, flipped over the paper with Benn’s half-recreated sigil, and began to doodle. As his pen sketched patterns of lines and curves, his mind sketched patterns of words—scripts to answer the inevitable questions. Professors had pushed him to the breaking point over far less than why the prince and princess fled to the palace under the cover of night with no explanation. He worked and reworked his words until the light from Iwabo Pfah fully illuminated the sky and it was time to get ready for class.
He skipped breakfast. There was no way he was letting the whole school ambush him about the twins’ absence at once. Besides, with that big of a secret hanging over his head, he’d feel plenty nourished all day long. So he left his room with as little time before class as possible, took the least trafficked route to his history classroom, and slipped into his seat right before the bell chimed 9th bar.
He tried his best not to look at Benn’s empty seat beside him.
Calley Jones 