"Again," a silky female voice chimed. "Massage the fabric through the poultice again and then wrap the wound."

Iliya obeyed, working her fingers into the thick material until it was sodden with pasty herbs and flour, steeped in the potions the Caster had brought from Bentrii. She was certain by the end of the day her fingers would permanently smell of clay, salt, and oats to treat the infections some of the Guards were getting from the toxic sludge.

"Good, now apply it with pressure," she said without looking up from her grinding.

Her instructor, Halavesta, found her moping outside the glass walls of the Infirmary one too many mornings and insisted that if Iliya wanted to help, she would learn how.

The Guard she was tending had to be burned with astral fire to purify the sludge soaked wound on his upper arm and the bandages were meant to soak up the pain. At least, that was what Iliya understood.

Halavesta insisted on speaking in her native tongue when she worked which left Iliya wondering if she truly understood the point of her task.

Still, Denick provided her with conversation between his cat like hisses of discontent. The Guard seemed rather pleased to speak with someone other than Halavesta and the other Caster's for a change.

But as Iliya finished securing the bandages, he seemed relieved.

"You need your rest," Iliya said, smiling. "I'll be back to check on you tomorrow."

Those words had left her lips several times this week. She'd been assisting the Castors for four nights now, standing vigil and looking over the remaining injuries when the Priestesses needed sleep.

Busying herself to forget her intrusive mind.

"Thank you, your Highness," Denick replied, returning the grin. His energy was much improved. "I'll look forward to it."

She nodded, waving behind her as she dipped into the room Jeremy lay in. He wasn't awake, but over the past few nights, she'd come to tell him about the other Guards and a few rumors floating about. He'd regained enough health to speak freely, still sleeping most of his time there.

Ducking into the final room, Rhydian leaned against his bed with arms crossed and a pensive stare. Destry stood across from him, though she couldn't see her mothers face.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Rhydian snapped. His tone implied it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "You don't know what is out there now."

"We don't have another choice," her mother replied. "I don't trust anyone else with these letters."

"What letters?" Iliya asked, still scrubbing clay off her hands with a rough towel.

Destry turned, her eyes lighting as Rhydian seemed to deflate. "Darling, it's good to see you."

Iliya cringed. The only time her mother began to glow like that was when she needed a favor. Often one Iliya wouldn't like. Setting the towel down, she approached cautiously. "What is it? What do you want?"

Rhydian snorted, fighting a laugh as Destry sighed in exasperation. Iliya thought she heard him whisper good luck under his breath.

Her eyes narrowed even more. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yes, yes, everyone is fine," Destry said. "I have a favor to ask of you."

She wasn't convinced, raising a brow. "What is it?"

"With Rhydian injured and Siofra speaking with Solraidas Queen, I've need for someone to take a stack of papers to the Court Members in Mirror Falls," she explained, sinking into herself. "Levias has compiled a report for them regarding the Taqrias and it's become urgent."

Iliya blinked, fighting the urge to bite her lip. "You want me to travel to Mirror Falls?"

The expression of a mother began to fade, leaving nothing but an exhausted Queen. "Yes," she answered distantly. "These reports are too important for me to entrust to the Guards."

She had no clue what those papers might say that would cause such secrecy, but she shook away the thought to keep from feeding her nagging thoughts.

Instead, Iliya nodded. "I'll take them."

Rhydian's jaw slackened. "Iliya, you need to consider–"

"I have," she interjected, leveling her gaze with Destry. "I've trained in combat longer than Siofra and I have more subtlety than Rhydian. I'd be more discreet."

Her mother blinked, astonished by her calm and logical process. "The reports are with Levias in the Library, if you're certain."

Iliya nodded again. "The travel might do me some good," she said, considering. "I don't suppose I'll have any company?"

"No..." Destry whispered. "Half the Guard is injured and I'm concerned for Chiori first."

Rhydian growled at the sentence, but Iliya understood. These were her people, this was her home. For the first time, Iliya had a chance to serve them as Destry did. As far as they knew, the Taqrias were under control, which meant Iliya would be more than safe on her own.

As long as no one told Ezre until she returned home.

"Illie," Rhydian grumbled. "I'll come with you, just let me–"

"No, absolutely not!" Iliya snapped. "You're not going anywhere while your leg is broken, Rhydian."

He grunted in response.

She mocked him, exaggerating a grunt back before nodding at her mother.

"I'll go find Levias," she said.

Destry grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Thank you, Iliya. Anything you need, let me know."

Iliya knew she needed a break more than anything and appreciated the opportunity to make herself useful, so she turned on her heel and headed for the library.

~ 🔮 ~

The Library was the only place silence didn't haunt him.

Sorein buried his head in every Etharis file his cousin handed to him. He tracked Levias' methodic movements as he flipped through every page with scrunched brows. After an hour or two, he'd begun scrawling away on a few sheets of paper, printing an official insignia on the envelope and sealing it shut.

"Who's the letter for?" He asked, disrupting the quiet.

Levias sighed and slumped back in his chair. His clothing and hair in disarray, as though he hadn't slept in days. He raked a hand through his hair and over his face in frustration.

"Both the Turrien and Mochaini houses expect full reports approved by Destry. Orla does as well," he explained. "Ordinarily I wouldn't permit access to information, but Her Majesty believes the founding families of Chiori Faire might have insight we do not."

Sorein shrugged and went back to his file, praying his cousin's formality would wear off eventually. He'd spoken to Sorein as another subordinate for the last four hours and it was beginning to irritate him. Still, he managed to keep to himself and away from the whispers that had been following him for days.

Here he wouldn't be blamed for the Aphyre's distortion, nor would the strange looks and uncomfortable tension follow him.

Levias cleared his throat, staring at him expectantly.

"What?" Sorein questioned, raising a brow.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," he muttered, eyes dragging down again. "And you?"

His cousin sighed. "No, how do you feel? Andrin worries you might not have Sealed yourself properly within the Aphyre."

Sorein took a deep breath and set down his file. "I don't know, Cousin. I've never known immortality before, does it truly feel different?"

Levias hummed to himself, thinking. Suddenly, he shook his head and picked up another book. "No... I mean, surely... but no."

They went back to focusing on their own tasks. As Levias studied the wards and sigils carved into the Aphyre, Sorein found himself searching for what his father couldn't find. A source for his mother's illness or potential cures. Either way, the company wasn't terrible and the library was silent.

He realized if there was anyone to include or even confide in, it might very well be Levias. His wealth of knowledge and access to information was nearly limitless. Still, Sorein knew his father would put him in the grave for such carelessness. He'd sooner see his mother dead than seek help, it seemed.

He wasn't certain how much longer he'd be willing to listen to Andrin about it, given the severity.

Lost in thought, Sorein barely made out the sound of an opening door or fast falling footsteps that gently skimmed the ground. He kept his eyes low in anticipation, only to see Iliya standing before Levias with her head lowered.

"My mother sent me to retrieve the letters set for Mirror Falls," she said softly. Her gaze grazed over him with warmth, as if an aspect reassured her, but still she didn't address him. "I'm to leave in an hour."

Sorein's chest seized. "You're what?"

Iliya turned to him fully now, eyes clearer than he'd seen them in the weeks he'd spent on the island. "Rhydian broke his leg and Siofra is apparently on another assignment."

His mouth opened and closed again, unable to understand her sudden confidence.

Levias smiled politely, albeit strained and handed her the papers he'd just written out. "Be careful, though I'm sure you're aware of their importance."

She nodded, tucking them into a small leather satchel at her hip. "Thank you. Which houses am I taking them too?"

"You'll be giving them to Orla, herself. She'll be the one to determine if they reach Lord Turrien and Lady Mochaini," he explained. "I am assuming you know where your grandmother lives."

Sorein watched Iliya laugh and cross her arms. "Of course I do," she replied.

"Very well then," Levias said, standing from his seat at the table. "I'll be making my rounds within the Estate then if you'll excuse me."

Sorein offered a half hearted wave, more curious about the Princess's posture and the dip in her nod. Her hands appeared stained with an odd kind of dirt and her clothing was fitted like the Caster's from Natansia. Unlike the women of Zavere, her pale shift was fastened to her with dark leather, a corset to match the belt holding her dagger. His eyes narrowed even more as the smell of lavender and spice drifted closer to him.

Iliya stared back, her face neutral. Her forehead was sweaty and smudged with the same clay marks a similar color to her freckles.

"You look like you've been busy," he said, rising from his chair.

Sorein walked around the table and leaned against it, beside her.

Iliya giggled. "I've been assisting in the Infirmary," she answered, smirking. "The Caster's have been mentoring me."

His own smile grew, grateful for some semblance of peace within her. She was proud, confident and it showed.

Sorein's happiness quickly faded as he remembered Jeremy's condition. He hated the creeping sense of guilt and fear that trapped him in this room, hiding. Hated himself even more for ignoring his Captain in favor of the anxiety that melted over him each time he even considered visiting.

As if Iliya could read the look on his face, she sighed. "He's recovering, slowly," she answered for him. "No one has been to see him and since I'll be leaving town I expect you to."

No one.

Sorein swallowed his frustration and disappointment, upset with himself. She was right. He needed to go to the Infirmary.

As long as he'd been given to think about it, Sorein knew he owed both his friends an apology. He wasn't certain Noah even remained in town.

"You said you were going to Mirror Falls?" He asked her.

Iliya nodded, glancing down at her pack. "Yes, my Grandmother lives by the lake."

"Would you do me a favor?"

Her brows knit together, but she nodded without thought.

"Noah will likely be in a place called The Last Flare... It's a pub on the far side of town, if you're lucky he won't be preoccupied..." Sorein said, his fingers fidgeting with the table's peeling oak. "If he's amendable, I need to speak with him."

Iliya's eyes flashed knowingly. "So you'd like me to bring him home?"

He nodded. "Yes please, if it's not too troubling. I do have to warn you that the place he frequents isn't particularly... high class."

Though she didn't seem to understand, Iliya committed. He couldn't rationalize her lack of inquiry or blind faith, but he appreciated her willingness.

"I have to be going," she murmured, excusing herself.

He frowned but didn't attempt to stop her as she passed. Iliya stepped over to the door and paused with her hand on the knob.

His heart dropped when she spoke again.

"Thank you..." she whispered, bracing herself against the metal. "For saving my life."

Then she was gone.