Humming under his breath, Cairo knelt to wrap Nicholas' ankle where it dangled off the side of the infirmary bed. He was none too careful about it. Nicholas clutched the sheets, breathing deep and doing his best not to wince. He had a bad feeling Cairo was the sadistic type to jostle his foot even more if he realized how much pain he was in. By "had a bad feeling," of course, he meant he knew without a doubt, because he had written Cairo to be exactly that type.

"Exceptional," Cairo marveled when he was done, beaming up at Nicholas. "I really put you through the ringer there, and still, not a word. I can't tell whether to be bored or impressed."

Okay, so. Even more sadistic he'd thought. The relief Nicholas had felt when Yasmin stormed out of the infirmary after Rayan was starting to seem premature.

"I'm just grateful that you're helping me."

Cairo laughed. "Buttering me up! What do I have to do to get you going like you were a minute ago?"

"I, um. What?"

"With the king!" He puffed out his chest and raised his chin to leer up at Nicholas. "Foolish king, look at you! Look at your clothes! You cannot even keep up with fashion, and yet you think you can keep up with my mind games? You will never know my secrets!"

Nicholas blanched. Was that what they'd heard? "I...don't remember saying that."

"I wish you would've!" Cairo hopped to his feet. He grabbed the bandage Rayan had left on the bed and slapped it onto Nicholas' cheek, laughing again when Nicholas hissed. Suddenly, he leaned over the bed, bent practically in half to reach his eye level. "Secrets, secrets," he said. "How many do you think you have, just off the top of your head?"

"...None."

"The fundamental human lie, so often told and so rarely believed. Humor me. How many?"

"I-" Nicholas cleared his throat. He was reaching his interrogation quota for the day. "I don't know."

"Fine then, just name a few. Tell me a secret, little spy."

"I'm not a spy."

"No, no, that's not a secret, that's another lie." Cairo tipped into his space, like he might find what he wanted written along the vessels in Nicholas' eyes. Nicholas edged back just enough to breathe his own air (and maybe he was a bit scared that Cairo would find what he was looking for), then some more when Cairo leaned even closer. There was a playful flash in Cairo's eye just before Nicholas went too far and lost the fight with gravity, flailing to catch himself on his wrists.

"Kidding, kidding!" Cairo beckoned at the air, and the blindfold dropped itself into his palm. He reached around Nicholas' head and tied it over his eyes, giggling all the way. "I'm sure you're very innocent. More importantly, though, you are very, very gross."

Thanks, Nicholas thought.

"You should be hanged for facing the king in such a state!"

And with that, his arms finally gave out and he dropped flat onto his back on the bed. Cairo howled with laughter. "Kidding again! You're very funny, you know, for someone boring."

Nicholas stayed where he was, laid out sideways on the bed, and thought that he might have been better off with Yasmin. He jumped when Cairo took both of his hands. A metal cuff locked around one of his wrists, then the other. He was hauled out of the bed without warning.

"Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"Splendid. Let's go."

He wasn't any more considerate of Nicholas' foot than Yasmin had been. He dragged him down winding torchlit halls with a skip in his step, singing the same song he had been humming earlier. He didn't know many of the words, so it was mostly nonsensical lyrics and unnecessary runs. He kept inviting Nicholas to sing along. Each time, Nicholas would exaggerate a wince and pretend he was too caught up in the pain in his foot to hear.

He feared the worst - surely there had to be a torture chamber somewhere in this castle - but the blindfold was swiped from his face in a bathroom. The half-filled square tub at the center was the size of his bed back home. Behind it, rosy curtains glowed with early dawn light. Nicholas grimaced when he glimpsed himself in a standing mirror, but the image checked out: greasy skin, sweat stains, vaguely ghoulish complexion. Purple-red bruising stained most of the left half of his face and his mouth was caked with dried blood.

Cairo appeared behind him in the reflection. Nicholas had never thought himself particularly short until that moment. "Hm. Yes, you look terrible."

Thanks, Nicholas thought again.

Cairo made a grand sweeping gesture toward the bath. He was holding a bar of soap. "Come on, now."

Nicholas met his eye in the mirror, then looked at the bath, then met his eye again.

"I can, you know. Bathe myself."

"Very well."

Cairo remained where he was, watching Nicholas expectantly.

"So are you staying, or...?"

"Yaz abandoned post, so it falls on me to act as your keeper."

"Right, but..." Did he have to act as keeper from inside the bathroom?

"Oh! You're modest." Cairo turned his back and took a couple of steps toward the opposite wall. It didn't put him any closer to the door. Nicholas, a seasoned professional at picking his battles, began to undress.

The bathwater was cold. He lowered himself clumsily, stiff from the chill and only mostly managing to keep his foot dry. Propping it awkwardly at the edge of the tub, he took a deep breath, braced himself, and slid down the mosaic tiles until he was submerged.

It was freezing, and he was seriously pushing the limits of his flexibility, but everything was quiet the moment the water closed over his head. All the white noise he hadn't noticed - the early morning birdsong outside, the shuffling of the waking castle, Cairo's footsteps meters away - got trapped above the surface. The cold water eased his heartbeat, soothed his broken skin, and pressed like a blanket around his head until even his mind slowed down.

His tub at home was barely big enough to shower in, let alone bathe, and his apartment didn't have a pool. It had been a while. He had forgotten how much he needed this.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that. Too long, probably. Not long enough after everything he'd been through. His lungs burned, and he emerged gasping.

"Oh, good. I thought you might've died," Cairo said without inflection. "You've ruined your bandage."

Nicholas followed his eyeline to where it floated in the water. Right by his hip. He covered his crotch with his hands. "Right, right, carry on," Cairo said, turning around.

The bar of soap was on the washstand. Nicholas regretted getting in the bath without grabbing it as he stretched as far as his body would allow and barely grazed it with his fingertips. He slipped, sending water splashing and knocking the pitcher with his knuckles. "Shit," he mumbled, helpless to do anything but wince as porcelain went diving to the floor.

It stopped inches above the patterned tile and glided back onto the washstand. When it landed, it pushed the soap just within Nicholas' reach. The whole thing made him question how much privacy he was really getting.

He scrubbed his skin vigorously everywhere it didn't hurt and delicately everywhere it did. His hair was a nightmare; he wished he would've known to cut it shorter before getting sucked into a magical journal. By the time he sank beneath the surface again, he could see the sunrise in the gap between the curtains. He rinsed his hair, then emerged.

He only made it out to his nose before a force clamped down on his shoulder. A stream of bubbles jumped to the surface as his yelp was silenced by the water. Nicholas struggled against the hold, but he had very little leverage, and Cairo was stronger than he looked.

"You're shivering," Cairo said next to his ear.

His other hand dipped into the bath. In seconds, it was steaming. It burned the sores on Nicholas' torso and the cut on his cheek; he gasped and got a lungful of hot water. Scrabbling at the sides of the tub, he tilted his chin up for air and coughed up suds. Cairo let up enough so he could breathe but didn't budge as Nicholas lurched upward with all his strength, an immovable force trapping him in the scorching water.

"My king is generous to a fault," said Cairo. There was no strain in his voice though Nicholas thrashed in his hold. "It would be nasty to take advantage of that. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Nicholas wheezed.

"Hm?"

He cried, "Yes!"

"If you really are a spy-"

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm not-"

Nicholas was pushed under. His tongue, his cheek, his eyelids, his nose- all of it burned.

Cairo dragged him out by the hair. "Do not interrupt me." Nicholas folded forward, hacking, only to be yanked back. "The minute you so much as scratch his skin will be your last. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Nicholas panted. "I understand."

"Delightful." Cairo released him.

Nicholas hauled his upper body out of the water and stayed there until his lungs cleared, braced on shaking arms and a busted leg. By the time he clambered all the way out, Cairo was humming that same song with his back turned. A towel hovered over Nicholas and dropped onto his head.

White pants and a linen shirt were folded over the edge of the tub. Wet spots dotted the soft material. It should have been too hot in the steaming room, but Nicholas was shivering all over.

"We should probably replace that bandage, yeah?" said Cairo. A pair of sandals waited by the washstand.

♛ ♛ ♛

Daylight spilled beneath the divider into his little section of the infirmary. Nicholas eyed it and wondered how long he'd been awake. He was nestled in the sheets, completely alone and more tired than he'd ever been, but he couldn't sleep.

Someone was at the door. He heard the lock give and prepared himself for Cairo with a deep breath that left him in a sputtering mess when the king walked in instead. Nicholas hastened upright and into another shitty half-bow.

"You're surprised," Rayan observed. A tray floated into the room behind him, bringing a sweet scent with it. Unsure how else to respond, Nicholas nodded. "Cairo has duties to attend to. He cannot waste an entire day posted in front of your door."

Another nod. Don't you have guards for that? Nicholas didn't say. The tray settled over his lap. There was a large bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. And servants for this?

It was hardly a glamorous meal. His tongue pooled with saliva anyway. He hesitated, breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell of cinnamon.

"You may eat in my presence."

The king waited. Nicholas' stomach gave a sad groan.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would not need poison to do it."

Nicholas couldn't argue with that and didn't really want to. With the hand that wasn't cuffed to the bed, he spooned a heaping bite of oatmeal and chugged the glass. The king didn't speak or move until the bowl was clean. His silence was even more brutal than Yasmin's. It carried none of her anger, but Nicholas swallowed each mouthful with the uncomfortable awareness that he was being scrutinized. What Rayan hoped to glean from his chewing habits, he couldn't say.

He approached the bed as soon as Nicholas was done. A stool from somewhere deeper in the room nestled itself at the bedside, and the king settled on it.

"You claim to have no magic," he said. "Is that the story you're sticking to?"

"It's the truth."

Rayan waved his hand. A large flat box fell onto his palm. It was simple on the outside, wrapped in navy silk and secured with a lock. He set it at the edge of the bed.

"Turn over your hand," he ordered off-handedly, popping open the top. The box's contents faced away from Nicholas. Rayan took out a dark, raw gemstone the size of his palm that glinted blue from the right angle. If it weren't for the ring on his pointer finger, cut and polished but glowing the same icy blue when he sent the tray drifting onto the counter, Nicholas wouldn't have caught on: the rock Rayan deposited wordlessly into Nicholas' open palm was forcate, the mineral that granted mages like him, Yasmin, and Cairo control over mass and its movement.

Rayan slipped off his right glove. Nicholas inhaled sharply through his nose when two fingers laid over his pulse point. He glanced up from the touch on his wrist, bewildered, to find Rayan already watching him. There it was again, that quiet look at me.

It was harder this time, with cold fingers on Nicholas' skin and no way of knowing what he was being tested on. Rayan put the gemstone away without explaining, and Nicholas wondered if this was something he was expected to understand as a born-and-raised Caldoran, or if the king was just being an asshole.

Another rock was placed on his palm. This one was tinted faintly red - vigalis. Energy transformation, light and fire. When Rayan touched Nicholas' wrist again, his knuckles brushed the gemstone, and for the second the contact lasted there was a faint pulse in his fingertips, thrumming against Nicholas' veins. Rayan shifted his hand so he wasn't touching the stone and the feeling left.

Ah, Nicholas understood. So that's what he's looking for.

This was a test he could pass with flying colors.

"If there's something you'd like to say," said Rayan, "Just say it."

Nicholas startled. His expression couldn't have changed much, yet Rayan had read the question on his tongue. It was unnerving to be under such careful attention.

The stone felt warmer in his palm than it had a second ago. The king took it back and the warmth vanished, and Nicholas thought he must have imagined it. "When you confirm that I have no magic, will you let me go?" he asked.

Rayan let out a short, low puff of air that might have been a laugh. "Nico, Nico," he tsked. Something twitched in Nicholas' cheek. Rayan zeroed in on it. "Something on your mind?"

There was nothing in his inflection or on his face to suggest he was goading, but Nicholas heard it all the same. He didn't take the bait. A jagged black gemstone settled in his hand, glimmering gold when the light hit it: encaline, the charmstone.

"You won't be punished for speaking your mind," said Rayan. "So speak."

It sounded like a trap. But it also sounded like an order. Lose-lose. "My name is Nicholas."

"I see."

It happened again, the warmth. The encaline grew hotter with every second it sat in Nicholas' hand. He panicked for a moment, but Rayan didn't show any sign that he could feel a reaction under his skin.

"Afraid?" said Rayan. "What of?"

"You." It was the first front that came to mind, and it was at least a little true. Nicholas schooled his expression even as the heat started to bite at his skin. Rayan broke eye contact for the first time, diverting his attention as he took the encaline - it didn't seem to burn him - but Nicholas caught the way his mouth twitched. A smile, maybe, if he was capable of that sort of thing. "Poor Nico."

Irritation flared in Nicholas' chest. Between the king and his men, Rayan was the only one yet to lay a hand on him, but Nicholas thought he might prefer Yasmin's fury and Cairo's crazy over- this. This vain, patronizing game Rayan seemed to be playing. The others were rougher, but at least they didn't make Nicholas want to say something that would actually land him in a torture chamber.

"Speak," the king said again. Nicholas hated this, being read so easily. Nobody had ever looked so close before. A round stone streaked with violet bands was pressed to his tingling palm. Nicholas recognized it as inercium, a mineral that commanded matter in state and form.

"I..." He chewed his bottom lip. He watched Rayan's eyes, tried to read him right back, but the king's face was blank. He thought, though, that despite his god-awful personality, Rayan had a decisive honesty to him. Not because he was kind, but because a man of his station had no reason to lie. He had said Nicholas could speak his mind, and Nicholas- he didn't like him, was starting to think maybe he couldn't stand him, but he believed him. "I never said you could call me that."

Rayan tilted his head. "Do I seem to you like a man who asks for permission?"

Yeah. Nicholas couldn't stand him.

The inercium was replaced with a metallic indigo slab. Tomite, the fifth and final Caldoran mineral, was among the hardest to master, but those who did could manipulate matter at the molecular level.

Rayan and Cairo were rare cases of Caldorans that wielded all five minerals. Most mages could use two or three at best, and most citizens couldn't use any at all. It was a matter of birth and probably breeding.

Nicholas thought it would be over after that, but Rayan procured another stone. It was lighter than the others, a pale yellow crystal that felt dusty against his skin. This was an Interran life stone.

"Perplexed," Rayan noted. Nicholas' nose scrunched, just barely. "Irritated."

"Are you having fun?" Nicholas deadpanned, then pressed his lips together, instantly regretful. What happened to biting your tongue? He was good at biting his tongue. An expert, even. But it kept slipping around Rayan, and he didn't know why, and it wasn't a mistake he could afford.

"Ah," said Rayan. "There it is."

Nicholas felt his jaw clench and immediately relaxed before Rayan could latch onto it. He didn't know what the king was getting from this, but he wouldn't willfully be his entertainment unless it was going to get him out of here.

Another mineral, also from Interra, replaced the last. It was heavy, flat, and mossy green - earth. Next, a chunk of geode with steely blue crystals - water - and after that, a smooth orange stone - growth. Nicholas hadn't expected its opal sheen. Rayan lingered over this last one so long it started to prickle with heat.

"So you truly are powerless," he said. He didn't lift his fingers or the stone.

"Doesn't this mean you can let me leave?" Nicholas tried again. "I'm not a threat to you."

"Is that so? You cannot use magic, but it cannot be used against you, either. That alone makes you a threat."

Nicholas' palm was stinging now. He didn't let it show on his face, not even when it started to burn. The last thing he needed was to give Rayan something else to study. He couldn't quite keep it from his voice, though; his words were rushed and tinged with desperation. "I just want to go home."

The veins in his wrist bulged with the effort to resist dropping the stone when the heat became unbearable. Focused on his face, Rayan didn't notice. He tapped his fingers absentmindedly against Nicholas' wrist and said, "I don't really care."

Nicholas was too worried about his face and the pain he couldn't show to think over his words. "You're not very kind," he said without the presence of mind to hesitate, but Rayan didn't seem offended. He might've even been smiling again, lips parted around an unspoken word. Nicholas could guess what it had been, the interrupted command that had him looking so self-satisfied. Speak.

"No." Rayan finally took away the last stone, and Nicholas curled his fingers before the blisters on his palm could catch the light. Pulling his glove back over his hand, the king stood to leave. "I suppose I'm not."