Page 69 of Lux

A bad taste in my mouth.

A chill constantly running down my spine.

A creaking in the darkness that draws me closer to Caspian without realizing it.

He has known all along. I can tell even before I look up to see him nod just once.

“He lives,” he says. “He will come for you. Don’t know why he hasn’t yet.”

Perhaps he’d gotten lost. The mortal realm is so loud and wild and expansive compared to ours. Without Caspian to lead the way, I would have never made it this far. I might still be in those woods, huddling in on myself.

“I should find him,” I say. Not for revenge. Not out of hatred. I should find him simply because… He is blood to me. That means something. Even if he saw me as an abominable thing he merely humored.

I will not treat him the same way. I will not leave him behind.

I can’t ignore him so completely.

And Caspian seethes. Through clenched teeth, he warns, “The creeping fae. He wanted to hurt you. Still does.”

“I know,” I admit, facing him. “But if I fear him, he will have control over me always. I won’t be able to stop running.”

He flinches at that, my Caspian. Too late do I realize that the same words could apply to him and his master.

“Fine.” He pulls away from the wall and stalks toward me, his hands flexing in and out of fists. “Find the stupid, creeping fae. Let him hurt you. Use you. Take advantage of you. Would you have me watch?”

“No,” I say. “Never. But if I need you to intervene you would trust me to ask you to.”

He stops short. Cocks his head. Hisses. Sighs.

“You aggravate me,” he snaps. “So many rules when it comes to you. Too much emotion. You must think with a clear mind. Like a predator. You must not be seen as weak!”

“I do not want to be weak,” I say after a hard swallow. “I don’t. I want to be strong, but in my own way. I do not want to be a monster.”

Like Cyrus.

Like Cassius.

A similar argument could be made for the Lord Master as well.

Not Caspian. He thinks I mean to include him on that list. Pain flashes in his eyes, raw and real and unhidden from me. He turns on his heel, aiming to run. Leave. Think.

I lurch forward and take his hand. “Don’t. I didn’t mean you. Never you. You are… unique. I could never fear you.”

He lets my touch linger for a moment. Then he shrugs me off. “It is late. You should sleep.”

But it is morning. The sun is so bright he must lower his hood to protect him, even while inside. So bright, that splotches of light paint the space between us as he approaches the far side of the room and begins to lift boxes of old things Altaris left behind. He lifts a heavy crate. Storms upstairs with it. I hear it slam down somewhere on the second floor.

Again, he repeats the same task.

Thud.

Stomp.

Slam!

Eventually, I can’t watch him any longer. I move to organize the pile of Daven Wick’s things instead. I fold our clothing. I setAltaris’s book in some dark corner where I don’t have to look at it. On my way back, I step on a bawled bit of parchment.

I stoop for it, intending to put it in the section of the room designated for trash. My fingers twitch. I find myself turning the page over and peeking at what's written inside.

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