Page 72 of Cursed Dreams
No words. No touch. No answers.
Just that strange, aching sense of loss.
“Thalia?”
She blinked looking up to see Nyla and Cellen approaching, their arms full of texts of their own.
Nyla’s brow creased with concern. “What are you so studiously buried in now?”
She quickly shut the book on her lap and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Just brushing up on old magical illnesses and rituals. Thought it might help on rounds.”
Nyla didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push.
Cellen slid into the seat beside her with a theatrical groan. “You know, you’re working yourself way too hard. We kind of miss you in case you forgot we exist.” He grinned, nudging her playfully. “And honestly, you’re way too pretty to be spending your nights buried in books like some tragic old scholar." He leaned back, giving her a sideways look. “If you’re really set on gathering as much dust as these scrolls, that’s your choice… but I’m planning something a lot more interesting and maybe even a little fun you’re up for it? “
Thalia raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“There’s a city-wide festival tomorrow night,” he said, grinning. “A celebration in honour of Eshu. You know, our charming god of luck and fate?”
Thalia tilted her head. “Why now?”
“Once every ten years,” Nyla supplied, sliding into a seat. “The alignment of two of the moons is said to thin the veil between realms. People leave out offerings to Eshu to ask for blessings on big decisions, marriages, career paths, even questions of love.”
“And” Cellen added with a waggle of his brows, “the parties are legendary. Wine, music, dancing, and, if the gods are kind, a little fate-twisting of your own.”
Thalia laughed despite herself.
“Come with us,” Nyla said warmly. “You need a break. We all do.”
“I’ll think about it,”, her smile fading just slightly.
Cellen groaned. “That’s code for no. I swear, if this library had a tavern in the corner, you’d never leave, or is that me?”
Thalia smirked as Nyla playfully shoved his shoulder, and the three of them shared a brief bubble of laughter.
They stood to leave, each with an armful of notes and assignments to review.
“Try to do something fun,” Cellen added, giving her a knowing look before heading toward the exit.
Nyla lingered behind, hesitant.
“Are you sure you’re, okay?” she asked softly, her warm brown eyes searching Thalia’s. “If you’re homesick… I’d understand. I was, too, at first. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Thalia felt a tightness crawl up her throat. She offered a quick nod.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m okay.”
She lingered for another heartbeat, clearly unconvinced, then gave a small smile and left.
As the door closed behind her friends, Thalia’s dropped her head in her hands.
They meant well, she knew that, but none of them would understand the truth. She couldn't fully understand it herself.
She wasn’t homesick. She missed him. The fae prince with starlit eyes.
How could she explain it to them, if she told them she was pining for a male from her dreams who claimed to be a prince of a realm that didn’t exist, they’d march her straight to the healers and prescribe her a week of rest and calming teas.
She leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh, staring up at the soaring ceiling of the library, frustration prickling beneath her skin.
