Dinner is always uneventful when father is home. I thought dully as my muscles relaxed, as if they’d just been incredibly tense, or immobile. I blinked in confusion. This wasn’t the dining room. When did I finish dinner, or dessert?
My cheeks were sore, and I pushed against them with my tongue, not noticing until the door clicked shut that my father had been in the room at all. I sighed in relief. He must not have heard the rumors of my supposed magic, so hopefully he wouldn’t be keeping a close eye on me.
I looked down, suddenly aware of a handkerchief by my shoe. My brows furrowed in confusion as I reached down to pick it up, but froze mid-reach. What was on my fingers? Was that…blood? Have I cut myself?
Numbly, I picked up the handkerchief and began to wipe the blood from my hands. The fabric was already tinged with red, maybe I had dropped it? My head felt fuzzy, perhaps I’d had too much wine in my attempts to calm the nerves. Dinners with the duke tended to do that.
Clutching it to my chest, I straightened and found that I wasn’t alone. Caspian sat in the doorway to the dining room, his feline eyes reflecting the lamp light against the dark as two, glowing orbs.
“Are you alright, Daelyn?” He asked, almost a whisper. The concern was surprisingly out of place for such a small cut, though the amount of blood on the handkerchief did make me pause.
“Careful Caspian, or I’ll think you’ve started to care.” I said sarcastically, more comfortable with his scorn than his concern. I continued to wipe at the blood on my hands. It was the best I could do without water.
Something flashed in his eyes, an emotion I couldn’t place before he vanished into the darkness of the house. It was uncharacteristic of him to sit there without teasing me in some manner, but I didn’t have the patience to dissect why Caspian behaved the way that he did. With a sigh, I walked carefully up the stairs and into my room.
Once inside, I scrubbed my hands in the wash basin until the water was pink. Oddly enough, I couldn't find where the blood had come from. There were no cuts to be found. It was genuinely puzzling, but any time my thoughts lingered on the mystery, it was as if the idea was washed away, like sand on a beach. I just couldn’t focus, but I supposed there was no time to linger on it anyway.
I turned my attention back to the plan I'd concocted on the ride home. I was going to, or at least attempt to, bloodbind Alexia out of the bridal path. I just needed to draw enough blood to perform the binding. I’d seen my father do it a few times, and when I was very young, he used to walk me through the motions. I knew the principals. Bloodbinding was just imposing your will on someone, it wasn’t something that you needed to practice.
However, since I couldn’t risk testing my ability on anyone beforehand, I would have to have a backup plan. From what I’ve learned, each bride has a metal cuff etched with symbols, and those symbols are charms that are placed upon the cuffs to force the brides march to the docks. Therefore, if I didn’t have the ability to bloodbind, then I would just have to remove the cuff and hope that no one saw what I was doing. A jewelers kit would be practical, but I doubted I’d have the time to fiddle with the tools while Alexia was actively walking. I’d need to obtain a small knife too, and it would need to serve two purposes. The first use would be to bloodbind Alexia, and the second would be to break the clasp if I couldn’t.
I slipped into my nightgown and peeled back the covers before sliding between the silk sheets. If my scheme succeeded, I had to admit that I would miss the comfort of my room, and the familiarity of the bed, but I would not miss this house. I would not miss my family.
I rolled over to face the window and stared out at the starry night. I was looking forward to a new life, one without the reputation of my title or the fear of my name following me like a shadow. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine such a life. Alexia and I could find a cottage out in the country somewhere. She could sell her embroidery, and I could paint or become a governess to a wealthy family. I suppose Alexia could also work as a lady’s maid for someone else as well, just not in Astalia. Maybe we’d go to the Bronze Isles, or Tarathe? My mother hadn’t told me any stories of her visits, but she’d always bought me souvenirs, although they were always delivered by a servant.
My hands clenched and my nails dug into my palm. She’d never been interested in me, and when my father found I wasn’t magebound, he’d lost interest as well. I didn’t miss her. The duchess couldn’t have been more estranged if she’d tried; and no, I wouldn’t miss my father either. Something about being around him made me so unbearably uncomfortable. Like he was a predator, just biding his time before he struck. It was a ridiculous thought, and I had no basis for it, but I couldn’t shake the thought either.
The dream I’d had a few nights ago came to mind as I thought about the Bridal Path, too clear to be a dream and yet too surreal to be a memory. I sighed, trying to banish the anxious energy that came over me whenever the duke was home. I closed my eyes, finally letting sleep take me. But it was restless, my mind plagued by nightmares of my father dragging a knife across Alexia’s arm as I begged him to stop.
The days marched on relentlessly as I made the last preparations for my plan. My father and Caspian were mostly absent as I snuck around. We didn’t eat together again. My father took supper in his study every evening, and Caspian for his part was in a surprisingly sour mood. When our paths did cross, he refused to speak to me, his teeth clenching audibly instead. Without Alexia, and no one else to possibly talk to, I struggled not to slip into a depression.
Three days before Trasenmar, I stole a dress that was hanging out to dry. It was one of the maid’s cleaning uniforms judging by the stains. I pulled my hair back with a ribbon and snuck into town on foot to arrange for a local carriage service to have two horses available.
“Who’s it for?”
“Does it matter?” I asked, pulling the requisite coins from a purse. “You’ll be paid for the horses and their bridles.”
He crossed his arms over his chest to look down his nose at me. “Yes, but you’re not asking for a carriage. You’re asking to buy the mares outright. Do you even know how to care for a horse?”
I glowered at him. No, not particularly, but I needed him to stop asking questions. “It’s for the duke’s house.”
The man’s brows raised. “Oh is it now? His Grace has his own horses. Get out of ‘er before I call the guard.”
I clenched my teeth. I hadn’t come all the way here to be denied. “His Grace is leaving on business after the festival, and his horses are going to be with the farrier till the following day.”
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He didn’t look convinced, as he moved towards the door.
“It was an unplanned trip!” I rushed on, blocking his path. “But it is still of the utmost urgency that he leaves that day.”
“Then why not have the horses brought directly to Hillcrest if His Grace insists? Why would I agree to bring them to the crossroads east of town?” He leaned against the counter, resting his chin in his hand. His stale breath a little too close to ignore. He continued, “Ye’ wouldn’t be trying to steal from Jasper LeMont, would ye’ lass?”
With a glare, I pulled out more coins. “I forgot my master’s seal...” I mumbled, kicking myself for forgetting such an important piece of the puzzle. “This is for the short notice.” I pulled out the coin purse, “and any added trouble.” I dropped the whole thing on the counter. “Five hundred silver pieces. For the horses, equipment, as well as for your cooperation.” And your silence.
His eyes widened in surprise as he opened the purse and riffled through the coins. He accepted without another word.
I spent the next two days carefully selecting what would come with us in the saddlebags. I seam ripped all the pearls and gemstones off of the green ball gown, as it should be enough to live off of for a few years at least, and added them to the handful of jewels I’d inherited after my mother passed. It took most of a day to sew the tiny fortune into the lining of the saddle bags. I snipped the last stitch and shook the bag. Nothing jingled, but it was certainly heavier than it appeared. Satisfied, I added a couple pairs of trousers, a few mens shirts that I’d also stolen from the laundry line, some toiletries, and soaps. I hid them in the stables, under a pile of hay.
When I wasn’t making arrangements, it was becoming more difficult to find things to occupy my time with. I had tried to show an interest in my new lady’s maid. I’d learned her name was Veronica, and that she’d grown up in the country. When her uncle heard that we were looking for a new maid, he’d immediately sent for her. No, she hadn’t served before. No, she wasn’t aware of what all the role entailed. She did not accompany me when it was not required, and she did not care to speak to me until spoken to. Staying here, with Veronica, was not an option.
The night before Trasenmar, I became anxious and fidgety. I’d already moved the saddlebags from the hay pile to the crossroads. Dried meat and apples filled in the remaining space in the bags, all stolen from the kitchen that morning. There was literally nothing I could do besides wait, and it only made my anxiety increase.
Do we have enough supplies? What time do I leave? Will the horses be there on time?
Eventually I found myself in the library, staring into the flames of the hearth as I tried to drown out my spiraling thoughts with the mead I’d stolen. The soft tip-tap of claws against the floor broke me from my reverie as I turned to see Caspian slink into the room. His face was tired and worn, his eyes half-closed and distressed.
He noticed me a moment later, his expression shifting completely into one of indifference. After a second's hesitation, he came to lay in front of the flames as well.
“Nice evening for a fire.” He stretched, burying his arms and chin into a rug.
I watched in disbelief. “So now we’re speaking?” My veins were hot with the buzz of alcohol. “Why bother ruining your perfect week of silence?”
“Contrary to your noble belief, my days don’t revolve around you.” He cleaned the back of his paw lazily. Regardless of what he claimed, he avoided my eyes.
“And yet you still can’t stand to even look me in the eyes.” I laughed softly to myself.
Caspian's eyes snapped to me, while his tongue was mid-lick against his paw. “Satisfied?”
“No.”
Caspian was often very cat-like, but there were many times that he seemed more human than beast. When we argued, I had the sense that we were almost the same age, and then would need to remind myself that Eidolons were immortal.
“I don’t want you to do it because I said something. You look ridiculous.” I grumbled.
He rolled his eyes, but stopped cleaning his paw. “You sound desperate for attention tonight. Do you wish me to entertain you, Daelyn? To ask you about your woes?”
I tucked my legs under me from the chair. “I would never be desperate enough for your attention, Eidolon. You show little capacity for kindness, and I don't desire to have your fur stuck to my dress.”
Caspian puffed his chest out, insulted. “I'll have you know that I am quite charming when I'm not suffering from your attitude. ”
“I find it difficult to believe you've been called charming. Who could find you charming, do you think? My father?” My stomach soured. “I daresay he’s never learned the word.”
“Certainly not. Jasper is many things, and being personable is not one of them.” Caspian bristled.
“Glad we have something that we agree on, but you haven’t answered my question.” I prodded, taking another sip. “I’ll share my drink if you can prove it.”
“I’ll have you know that most women find me charming.”
Laughter exploded from my mouth, earning me a glare. “Oh—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were being serious.” I struggled to contain myself. “Are you saying that you’ve had human flirts? How scandalous!”
He glanced down at himself, almost like he'd forgotten the fur. “I’ll have you know that a mortal like yourself should consider themselves to be one of the luckiest beings alive just to be near an Eidolon. It’s the closest to divinity you’ll ever get. Yet here you are...” He shook his head. “Stupid girl.”
“Stupid cat.” I ignored the divinity comment. “Next you’ll tell me that you own your own mansion, and have your own servants.”
“If only...” He trailed off before abruptly changing the topic. “Alexia still walks the path tomorrow?”
I was jarred back to reality. “Yes.”
“You’re going to miss her quite a bit, aren’t you?”
“I miss her now,” and miss her, was an understatement. “I honestly don’t know what I’ll do without her.”
“You truly were friends, weren’t you?” He asked, with no trace of mockery in the question.
“Are friends.” I corrected firmly. “And the only one I’ve ever had.” He noticeably flinched, and I tried not to notice.
“Are friends.” Caspian repeated, neither of us knowing quite how to navigate civility with each other. “I had always assumed your relationship was purely professional, maybe even out of obligation.”
“It started that way.” I smiled sadly, wistfully. “But Alexia gave me a chance to be her friend, knowing who I was. It‘s more than most people give me.” I stared into the flames again, to listen to the crackle of the wood splitting. “Believe it or not, I don’t leave Hillcrest unless it’s necessary. The balls I attend are out of obligation, just as those who send the invites, invite me out of obligation. No one actually wants me there, they’re just afraid of the social implications if I’m not.” I thought about the Rensfield’s ball, and the disaster that it became. “Every member of the Astalian court is convinced that I’ll bind them if they come too close to me, and yet, I still attend. Pretending that I'll find the one person brave enough to trust me like Alexia did, someone to take me away from this place.” I emptied the glass in one final gulp.
Caspian opened his mouth to say something, but seemingly thought better of it and closed his mouth.
I hardly noticed. “Alexia made it all a bit more bearable…” I trailed off, wondering how well I actually knew her. She'd always been quick to speak her mind, but outside of confessing her mother’s illness, and the brief mentions of her father’s death, I didn’t know much else. Her family was practically a mystery outside of their names.
I promise if this works, I will be a better friend to you Alexia.
“I had a friend like that once.” Caspian said, almost to himself. “I would’ve done anything for them, and I did.” He stretched his wings towards the warmth of the fire. “I think of them often.”
I’d never heard Caspian speak of his life, outside of the manor or otherwise. “What happened to them?” I asked, matching his softness. “Did they die?”
His eyes took on a faraway look. “Not everyone leaves because they die. Sometimes, it's because they forget.” He closed them. “I understand, probably more than most, what it is to have someone that you care about stolen away. Your days become consumed with thoughts of how you would help them, to save them.” He tucked his wings back against his back as he stood. “Hope hurts, and it makes you sloppy. You think you’ve covered your tracks, but desperation makes even the best of us… predictable.” He leveled me with a look. “Sometimes it’s best not to hope at all.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as he stood to leave.
“Goodnight Daelyn.” Caspian said, before padding down the hall.
“Goodnight.” I said softly, the moment we shared over as I stood. Not sure if he had still been speaking of himself by the end.