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The next couple of days is a blur.

I sleep, or stare at the ceiling, or pretend to sleep. I don't want to go anywhere, I don't want to think of anything, I'm not sure I want to fight for anything anymore. Because...what am I even fighting for here?

As though sensing my misery, Loretto comes and goes without saying a word, spending most of the daytime outside faer apartments, and quietly browsing books at the desk in the evenings. Or maybe fae just pretends that I don't exist. You can ignore a problem for a quite while, right? And I bring Loretto nothing but problems.

But, as weird as it might be, having a mentor doesn't seem like a problem to me now. Now, on the contrary, I feel strange serenity in Loretto's presence. In Loretto's even steps and undemanding glances. As though I've been shoved in a hurricane for a long time, and now I've finally got a chance to breathe, and Loretto is here to faithfully guard the peace and make sure the hurricane ain't coming back--after any of us.

On the third day, though, I ruin the peace. When I wake up to the sound of Loretto's footsteps crossing the living room behind my back as the shy sunlight begins to seep through the window, I make a mistake, saying, "Morning."

The footsteps stop. "It speaks? Aren't we waiting for when you turn into a pillow?"

Without opening my eyes, I throw my arm over my face. "We are."

"I don't want a talking pillow."

"Too bad you're stuck with one."

"Well, you'll get me unstuck, then." I hear as Loretto takes a deliberately nosy sip of faer coffee. "Once you get hungry."

"Hungry? But a waiter brought me food from the cafeteria yesterday and--" Turning my head to look at Loretto, I cut myself off as faer bare torso sharpens my sleepy mind in a blink. And not just the torso. My eyes drop to-- "You're naked!" Rather out of shock than courtesy, I squeeze my eyes shut. "Oh gods...Why are you naked?" Completely.

Loretto's voice sounds in no way abashed. "I like sleeping naked, and I drink my coffee naked every morning. Am I supposed to change my habits for you?"

Every morning? So I've been snoring beside this uncovered ass for two days by now, without noticing? This is a new sort of hurricane. I swallow my sudden impulse to look again. Just to make sure I haven't hallucinated it all. Nothing else, no. "A waiter brought me food yesterday and a day before that. I thought you ordered for me."

"I did. And I gave you space, leaving you to vegetate on my couch for two days. But don't you think that's enough for mourning the person you never even knew for real? Your own life hasn't ended, so get your lazy bones up, and do something to make the air spent for your breathing count." I can't take a hint of irritation in Loretto's tone seriously now. All I can do is keep suppressing that impulse to look, though Loretto doesn't seem to appreciate my modesty. "You still need to learn to control aura, Eli. The council won't leave me alone and let you go home until then or--until we're both dead. So. What do we do?"

You're going to get dressed, you whimsical, shameless shaman. But if I'm being honest, I don't know what to say. What do you do when you learn someone tried to kill you? What do you do when you learn they still want you dead? Or make me one of them. An aurablood. But that's impossible, I've no inborn talent, and even if I had, if I somehow found a spell or a potion, which I once heard rumors of, to temporarily turn the blood in my veins into aura and grant me powers, to trick Loretto and the empress...Plainblood who play with magic go mad. Besides, I'll betray my family by giving the empress what she wants and standing with the shamans--that's even worse.

Never.

Since now I know Maricela wants Loretto gone as well, I also know Loretto won't do anything to the only sidekick fae has. No need to fear being shredded into ribbons. "I want pancakes for breakfast," I snarl, pulling my blanket over my head.

There's a long pause. "Someone promised to follow me."

"Someone promised to follow you, but not blindly, Mentor. How can pancakes get me into trouble?"

I half expect Loretto's magical wind to kick me off the couch in reply, or faer coffee mug being tossed at me. But none of that happens. My mentor doesn't say anything, I only hear faer exasperated exhale and footsteps heading toward the bedroom.

Does it count for a victory?

To check, I dare peeking from under my blanket and look after Loretto, but instantly forget our argument. My cheeks burn hot as my gaze lands on Loretto's undressed silhouette again. On Loretto's glossy hair cascading down faer back, on the narrowest part of faer waist, on the slender legs moving soundlessly and gracefully, muscles rising and falling with every step.

Always concealed behind the robes, Loretto's shape never actually made me wonder. I did know that a comely face must be a package deal with a good-looking body, but I just never actually imagined it that vividly, I guess. But it's not just a good-looking body, it's beautiful. Strong yet gentle, lithe yet solid...And not a single scar, or a scratch, or callus, only sun-caressed brown skin, with all the right proportions of muscle and tenderness. Surrounded by some air of timeless elegance, of an unsurpassably trained and accomplished shaman Loretto, I constantly forget, is. If I had a body like that, I would've walked around naked, enjoying myself, too. But I can't deny that just looking is also quite enjoyable.

I curse under my breath, retreating back under my blanket.

Half an hour later, all dressed up and laced to the very throat as usual, Loretto leaves the apartments without another word.

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I should've figured by now that any victory of mine that involves my mentor is nothing but my defeat in slow motion.

I do get my breakfast brought up to the apartments, but not pancakes. A corn cake. It looks awful--as though someone forgot to take a pot of porridge off the stove, and it turned into a scorched brick of dirt after being boiled for hours, graciously glazed with cream to hide the mess--so I've always walked past it in the cafeteria.

Still, there's nothing else to eat except for some fruits in a bowl on the desk, and as I smell the cake, it reminds me of sweet honey, not dirt. Eventually, its taste turns out to be much better than its look, too, and when the cake is gone, I regret there was only one slice.

Now I feel even hungrier.

To distract myself until lunch, I try to nap, but my body seems to be allergic to sleep after lying still for two days straight, leaving me wide awake, and tossing, tossing, tossing. Filling my buzzing mind with questions, no serenity. How do I keep it low to avoid more trouble? I've never succeeded at that. And what's Loretto doing all day, every day? Fae must have a job at the temple, like everyone else here...What is the empress up to, next?

I get up, stretch, and mope around the apartments, killing time. There's nothing to do or see, though, except for endless dusty books on the shelves. The bedroom is locked--obviously--along with all Loretto's personal belongings, and the window in the living room faces an alley with thick, lush trees, covering the view. And there's no glass, only some spell filtrating the air, letting the fresh morning breeze in, but pushing me back inside as I try to peek out.

Disappointed, I drop to sit on the couch again.

Suddenly, the smell of ashes fills my nostrils, faint but distinct. Looking up, I realize there's a message--a piece of paper appearing out of nothing over my head, as though ashes turning back into a flame into a note. At first, I fancy the idea that it's from my brothers. Finally! But messages send with aura rings, by plainbloods, don't form from ashes. They just flicker and disappear, reappearing in another place, no beauty in the process.

A shaman message.

For some reason, I know it's from Loretto the moment I see the curvy handwriting as I snatch the fully formed note from the air. It says, If you wanna play a rebel, at least play smart. Show your face outside, or people will start thinking I keep you prisoner and bust my door to rescue you. Do we really need more attention?

Below is the list of rules for me to follow if I do show my face outside: Don't talk to anyone unless asked. Don't go near the Postulant House or Maricela's quarters, or answer any provocative questions. Don't ask your own questions in an attempt to figure out what happened to Valto. Don't...Don't...Don't...

However reasonable it all might sound, it's still annoying.

At last, at the very bottom, there's one do:

Do read the books on the table once you get back.

Puzzled, I check the books first. There are no more shaman history volumes prepared for me, which means, I guess, we're past that lesson. Now it's all about the theory of spell-casting. Loretto still thinks fae can train me to be a shaman. I wonder how pissed my teacher will be once I admit that's impossible. Though Maricela would like it--an excuse to kill me.

Now I realize that I got so entangled in the court's intrigues lately that I totally forgot about my family. How are they? It's been weeks, and I haven't heard from Cale since he sent me a message with Gen, telling me to stay put. He remembers I'm still waiting for him to get me out of Tik'al, doesn't he? Of course he is, I'm his brother. But what's taking so long?

Biting my nails, I think about going to the labs again, to look for Ariane to ask, but Ariane has said Cale and Kofi tell her nothing lately, and I don't really want to get Sis into my trouble. If only I had my aura ring to send a direct note to Cale as Loretto sent one to me...But my ring has been confiscated, and I've no other charms. Or maybe I can get one?

Nobody's gonna try to kill me in the middle of the day, right? Besides, the corn cake was nothing but to tease my stomach, and no matter how long I wait, no waiter appears at lunchtime. And Loretto is right--it's best if I show my face, to prevent some more ridiculous gossip.

Motivating myself with the promise of obtaining more cake, I quickly wash my face, change Loretto's pants and shirt fae gave me to sleep in, pulling on my own clothes, which were brought from the Postulant House by a guard--thankfully, not all my things were soaked in blood--take the knife I once failed to steal, slipping it into my pocket--just in case--and tiptoe out the apartments.

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Eli's corn cake (made with AI app):

Now tell me you're not hungry 😅