Page 86 of Minor Works of Meda

“Please, Oraik. Don’t.”

“What if he snaps some day? You saw what he’s capable of. He’s a faerie, Meda. They’re—”

“Don’t,” I begged. “Please.”

“—Heartless.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, actually.”

“Do you know what I think? I think that sword was coming at you on the boat, and he made it hit me instead.”

Oraik wasn’t wrong. But of course Kalcedon was going to protect me, out of the two of us. He had not intentionally hurt Oraik.

“I trust him. He’s… I love him,” I blurted.

“Him?” Oraik asked, scandalized. “A whole world full of people, and you love him? Meda, that is positively foul.”

“Just because you don't understand him.”

“Fine. Fine,” the prince threw up one hand; the other was propping him up. There was a worried look on his face. “I just hope you come to your senses. I dearly love to be told I’m right.”

I gave him a look. He shook his head and looked nonchalantly away, then mimed locking his lips together.

“Anyways, we can’t go to Thianthi,” I told him. “You’ll be safer in Rovileis, with all the Nameless.”

“I’m not going back there.”

“It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was. But enough. Should we go out somewhere?” Oraik asked. “Try a Temorian tavern? And no more sad talk about sad things?”

“More walking? Please, no,” I begged.

“Get stewed in the room?” he offered, arching an eyebrow.

“That, I could manage.”

He grinned, slipped off the bed, and went to buy a bottle from the innkeeper.

Chapter 38

I was woken early in the morning by the sound of a fist pounding against the door. Oraik made a soft groaning noise and rolled over away from me, burying his face into the pillow. We’d fallen asleep talking.

“Wake up, you lout,” Kalcedon snapped, his voice muffled through the door.

The fist knocked again, louder. Oraik stumbled out of bed and opened the door an inch.

“What d’you want?” he mumbled. “It’s too early to be murdered.”

“Meda isn’t in her room, or downstairs. We have to find her.” Kalcedon’s voice was harsh, worried.

“Calm down, I'm right here,” I said sleepily, and curled around my pillow. There was a long pause.

“...Meda?” Kalcedon’s voice was soft.

Oraik stepped aside, and Kalcedon pushed the door open. I would have loved to sleep longer, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. I yawned and swung my legs out of bed. My mouth tasted like sour wine.

"Right. Of course she is," Kalcedon spat. His mask was already on, so I couldn’t see his expression. He turned and walked away, slamming the door behind him.

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