Page 9 of Lux

Compared to my small room in the Citadel tower, it is massive. Every sound echoes. My breaths scrape on the air. Large windows scale the walls, letting sunlight in.

Poor Caspian. He must be careful not to step into one of the many puddles of golden sun. Were we in the other realm, the rays could not harm him. Here, they are painful. Perhaps deadly.

We will need to cover the windows.

For now, we need to clean. There is too much dust in here. Too much clutter that reminds me of Altaris. He must store things here in boxes that are piled in the corners and block most of the open space.

If I could, I would destroy everything he owns. I hate him. The Lord Master was indifferent to me, but Altaris is cruel. He cloaks his malicious ways with kindness and fake smiles, but one day, I will make him pay for toying with me. I will rip out his throat?—

“Naughty little fae,” Caspian scolds against my ear. He was never asleep, of course. The crisp, mocking voice still startles me. “Creeping into my mind, stealing my anger from me. You are delicate and soft. Hands like these couldn't kill if they tried.” He holds one up for inspection.

His thumb runs along my palm as he watches pale fingers flex, with nails too frail to rip out any throats. At least, not yet.

You stole from me,he implied. The anger. His glorious rage. It’s in my head, seeping through me, making me think naughty thoughts.

I laugh. Then, bare my teeth as though they were fangs like his. There is something appealing about his anger. I enjoy the power that comes from picturing myself biting and tearing. There is nothing like feeling powerful-it is so damn different from fearful, meek submission.

“I like you submissive and meek,” Caspian tells me, but there is amusement in his voice. He likes that he’s infected me.

Perhaps, in some way I have infected him.

“You heal me,” he says, so quietly I could have imagined it. Thought the words in my own mind and pretended he uttered them.

Before I can be sure, he stands, tugging me along with him. He steers me to a metal square against the wall. Opens it, revealing a light and several shelves and a few strange items scattered across them. He takes out a bottle of white liquid and makes me drink from it. Milk. Then he opens a clear sack and pulls out a slice of pillowy soft bread.

I eat as he watches me. Awe flits across those red eyes before his thumb shoots out to trail the length of my chewing mouth.

“I need to remember,” he says, almost as if reminding himself out loud. “You require sustenance.”

Sustenance and comforts that he doesn’t. Like more milk to ease the dryness in my throat. Then water to wash the blood from my hands. More blood stains my beautiful pink dress and Caspian strips it, tossing it aside. He leads me to a new room with a porcelain basin that he fills with water from a metal tap. I climb inside and it’s blissfully warm. Far better than bathing with a bucket of lukewarm water and an old rag.

Yet, it must have been a while since Caspian needed to bathe as a mortal does. His body is perfect, even when streaked with blood. Awkwardly, he stands, watching me.

“I need soap,” I say.

He frowns and I swear he mutters “ah, ha,” like a historian making some revolutionary realization. He leaves, returns. I stare. Giggle.

Wait. It’s a noise I’ve only heard from the Citadel workers, or mortals walking outside of Altaris’s shop. Even Poppy would do so for no reason, as if her thoughts alone were entertaining enough.

But I bring a finger to my lips as if to trap the sound inside me. Feel it. Relish in it. Try to remember how to make it again.

And Caspian…

He is more determined than I am. He stares at me and then lowers his gaze to the bottle in his hand. He raises it as if it alone was the source.

But it wasn’t. It was…

“The look on your face,” I say, trying to explain. How his red eyes had narrowed then. I can’t put it into words. More noises slip out of me. A giggle, a gasp. A sigh as he stalks forward and upends the bottle, pouring liquid directly into the water around me.

Then he crouches. His pale hands slip beneath the water’s surface. He stills. Looks up at me, dark eyes questioning. He wants to know something but won’t ever ask it out loud. It lingers in his mind, and he lets the thought drift over into mine.

Why that noise? That laugh. What made me do it?

I suck in air and try again to explain. “You looked so…confused. You know everything, but you’d forgotten this: baths need soap to wash the body clean. You’d forgotten…” My lips twitch, and I can’t contain another giggle. Another louder, lingering bit of sound. It startles him. He stiffens, then lowers his head, still testing the water’s warmth with his fingertips.

I think I’ve offended him. Then I hear it: a single thought floating amid his chaos.Beautiful noise.

My heart thumps. The air in here feels tight again. Stifling. Perfect. Suffocating.

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