Page 87 of Minor Works of Meda

“What was that about?” I mumbled.

“He really hates me,” Oraik said. He yawned, scratched his head, and fell back onto the bed.

“I’ll go after him,” I said. I’d slept in my dress, thankfully, so there was nothing to do before heading out the door.

I didn’t have to go far. Kalcedon perched on the staircase, sitting on the top step with his elbows resting on his knees. The pain roiling off him was sharp, nearly toxic. I was surprised the walls didn’t start weeping salt water.

“So that’s still happening,” he growled as I approached from behind. I sat next to him and leaned against the wall.

“What, Oraik and me? We're just friends.”

“I know that.”

“So what’s your problem, then?” I said, and poked Kalcedon’s shoulder just below his mask’s cowl. But he didn’t turn his head to look at me.

“You make more sense with him. You’re happier with him. I don’t fit into it.”

His power was a sour, sinking weight spreading like fog. I pursed my lips.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I? You aren’t the first person to have left me, Meda.” Kalcedon’s mask swiveled to look at me.

I rubbed my eyes, exhausted, hungover, and a little surprised he was being such a brat.

“Finally having a friend doesn’t mean I like you any less. And Oraik might make me laugh, but life’s more than laughing.”

“Eudoria hasn’t even been dead for two weeks. Two weeks. I’m glad you’re having fun, drinking on sin-boats and seeing the world.” He stood up and stomped down the stairs. I stared after him and heard the door of the inn slam.

It wasn’t fair of him to bring up Eudoria. I was doing such a good job of not thinking about her.

I sat on the steps in silence until Oraik spoke.

“Who’s Eudoria?”

I hadn’t even realized he was behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I leaned my head against the wall. How could I even begin to answer that question? Eudoria was so many things. A foolish part of me still believed she was just waiting for us on Nis-Illous. That when the Temple won against the Colynes and the faeries, everything would go back to the way it had always been. Eudoria would ask me if I was done organizing the new books and tell me not to dream so big. Kalcedon would come in from the garden, corner me into eating a slice of fresh melon, and not let me go until I told him how good it tasted. I shook my head, then sniffled. Tears built behind my eyes.

“Damn it,” I whispered hoarsely, and wiped them away.

Oraik sat down beside me. Then he put a hand around me and pulled me against him. I tensed for a moment, haunted by Kalcedon’s words, before turning and burying my face against Oraik’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to talk,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for whoever you lost. I knew you’d been through something, but. Well.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about her. He’s hurting. I know he’s hurting. Badly. She was his family.”

I was interrupted by a distant, piercing shriek, followed by the muffled sound of a crowd screaming. Oraik went stiff. His hand tightened on my shoulder.

“What was that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know.” I wiped my eyes and stood, then hurried to my room for my shoes. Oraik did the same. We re-emerged simultaneously and clattered down the stairs just as Kalcedon wrenched the door to the inn open.

“Come on,” Kalcedon snapped. I ran past him onto the street, then turned.

Oraik was headed outside, but Kalcedon stopped the taller man with a hand on his chest. Oraik glared down at him, but Kalcedon held firm.

“This isn’t over,” I heard Kalcedon tell him in a low voice. “She’s mine.”

Kalcedon released Oraik. The prince pushed past him and joined me in the middle of the street looking angry. I gave Oraik a weak smile. I was going to have to talk to Kalcedon about that, probably.

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