Chapter Six: An Unexpected Departure | Part 7
As the nausea and weariness and incessant stress wore on, Thirtyx practically dragged himself to his last class, where he only managed to stay awake by doodling simple sigils he’d picked up from watching Rhea and Benn. Did they make it to the palace alright? What was Grimmary’s condition when they got there? Surely the death of any member of the royal family would spread like wildfire, so he could likely assume all of them were alive, at least. He absentmindedly sketched the sigil that established their three-way mind link. If only he could cast it himself. If only it would reach across the continent if he could.
So, it was with his final dregs of anxious energy that he pushed himself to the dining hall after class. He’d stopped trying to look as though he was managing at this point, and the number of sideways glances had certainly increased. He leaned heavily against the door frame and closed his eyes.
“Thirtyx?”
He startled. The look in Seerla’s reptilian eyes was definitely more pity than admiration this time. “Come on.” She took his arm and turned him toward the door to the courtyard. Though she let go soon after, the sensation lingered on his skin, carrying an energy Thirtyx wasn’t altogether familiar with. He certainly didn’t have the mental faculties to puzzle that out, or really to do more than robotically follow her through the courtyard, into the dorm, up to the third floor, down a long hallway, and through the door to her room.
“Well. Here we are. Try not to judge the mess. I didn’t exactly plan for company.”
Thirtyx wasn’t sure what “mess” she meant. The place looked far more homey—dare he say cozy—than he’d ever dreamed a room could look. He and Benn hadn’t the remotest interest in decorating, so the lush duvets and embroidered curtains of Seerla and Nephrie’s room seemed more like a stage set than a real living space. Oil paintings of the sea covered the walls on what Thirtyx assumed to be Nephrie’s side, given the aquatic decor interspersed with various furs. Seerla’s walls were adorned mainly with shelves of books and trinkets—handcrafted figurines and woven cloth dolls sat adjacent to pewter artifacts and brilliant gem amulets, weaving a tapestry of her mixed heritage.
The ensemble held his attention while Seerla tossed some discarded clothes into her closet and threw her whole body against the door to close it. “I’m sure it’s not quite as nice as living with a prince, but—”
Thirtyx snorted. “In what world does that prince have time to decorate? Our room looks like a prison compared to this.”
Seerla rolled her eyes as she pulled back her duvet and fluffed her pillow. “I didn’t know you were capable of such wild exaggerations.”
“I’m not.”
She met Thirtyx’s first half-genuine smile of the day with a complete lack of amusement. Nevertheless, she stepped back and gestured to the bed.
While Thirtyx was acutely aware of how awkward this all was, the pervasive exhaustion had numbed the part of his brain that cared. This felt… right, somehow. Exactly what he needed.
He kicked off his shoes and folded himself into Seerla’s bed.
Seerla rummaged in the desk for some paper. “I’m sure you don’t want Nephrie to walk in on this, so I’ll wake you well in advance of when she’s usually back. It won’t be a long nap, but it’ll be something.”
“Seerla…” he said lamely. He stared at the ceiling as if searching for the right words, but all he could find was, “Thanks.”
She shot him a smirk over her shoulder. “Don’t mention it. But also, don’t drool on my pillow, or I’ll never let you live it down.”
“Fair enough.” He rolled onto his side and, while he was pretty sure she was kidding, he pulled up his shirt collar to catch any drool that might escape.
If he could fall asleep, that was. But the moment his eyes slid closed, a sense of calm washed over him. His muscles unwound from their clenched state. He released the first full, relaxed breath he’d breathed all day. Against all odds, somehow, he felt safe.
He was asleep before Seerla’s pen hit the paper.
Calley Jones 