Chapter Thirteen: Upriver | Part 1
“Thirtyx. Hey!”
Seerla’s fingers snapped in front of his drooping eyelids for the third time that bar. He’d moved from his bed to the floor to prevent exactly that, but his efforts were clearly in vain.
Seerla sighed. “Look, I really want to let you sleep, but the Comp is in ten days.”
“I know.” Thirtyx’s eyes felt raw from how often he’d rubbed them. “I just didn’t sleep well with Benn gone and everything.” Didn’t sleep well was a colossal understatement. After assembling a barricade he knew would scarcely slow the headmistress down, he’d lay awake tensing at every creaking branch outside, every footstep on the floorboards, every opening and shutting of a door…
Seerla closed her notebook. “You have every right to be scared. I’m scared for you. But even if Azirenne is out for blood, didn’t you say Grimmary is furious with her? She may need to tread carefully if she doesn’t want to make an enemy of him—and he is not a man I’d want to make my enemy.”
The calming potion Thirtyx ferreted out of Benn’s nightstand told him as much last night, but it had little power against his insomnia-fueled thought spirals. “She could mess with my memory. If she hadn’t been interrupted last time, she could have wiped all the proof from my head.” He made a popping sound with his lips and an analogous motion with his fingers.
“I suppose. Maybe Rhea and Benn should check your mind for signs of interference when they get back.” Seerla blinked, and her eyes widened as if surprised by her own suggestion. “Sorry! That would be a ridiculous invasion of your privacy. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Thirtyx snorted. “I doubt there’s much in there they’d find surprising. But proving the headmistress tampered with my memory would be like using a stitching spell on a cracked dam. If she gets in my head again, I’m pretty sure she’ll find what she’s after. She got dangerously close last time.”
Last night’s rare moments of fitful sleep had been marred by distorted, nightmarish reimaginings of that final trance. He’d mentioned glittery glowy magic. He said the word ‘teleport.’ It was a miracle he didn’t string them into a coherent sentence.
Seerla fidgeted with her braid. “I don’t understand why she’s still after you for information, though. I’m sure Grimmary reiterated that whatever she’s hunting is classified.”
“Well… you know how some people get about secrets. Even ones that are being kept for a good reason.”
There was a long pause before Seerla continued, much quieter, “She wants to know Grimmary’s weaknesses so she can be valuable to his enemies if he starts losing his grip on the throne. Is that it?”
Thirtyx’s resigned breath rattled his chest. “Ironic, isn’t it? Everyone thinks I’m plotting against Grimmary when I endured torture instead of betraying him.”
“Well… you should know that not everyone actually thinks you’re plotting treason. Some people are just pretending so they don’t upset their own social status. Granted, I think those people are cowards—” The bitterness of her tone and the grimace on her face suggested she was thinking of someone specific. “—but fewer people hate you than you think. And that speech you gave on the way back from the gates last night didn’t hurt.”
Thirtyx’s eyebrows lifted. “How’d you find out about that?”
“Nephrie and I had a long talk last night. She said she was really moved by what you said, and some other Selkies were too. She wanted me to formally invite you to go upriver with everyone tonight—a peace offering of sorts.”
“No way in the twin hells,” Thirtyx grumbled.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.” Was that disappointment in her voice? His guilt waged a brief war with that stupid hunger about the reason. Was he holding her back because she still thought she needed to protect him, or did she think that, even if she went, she wouldn’t have as much fun without him there?
Calley Jones 