The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Thirty

After a moment of long, thoughtful silence, captains Rayan and Leith guided us down into the depths of the ship. Rayan brought Lark and me to where we would be sleeping for the night. She hugged us tightly before leaving.

As soon as I could, I curled up under the covers of my unfamiliar bed. It was stranger than it had been last time—softer than it should be, than I was used to. I considered going down to the floor, but I didn't have the willpower to get up.

The room was purely dark. There were no windows in the walls—no torches to illuminate the small area. It was nice. I wasn't happy, of course, but without anything to remind me how the curse was affecting me, I felt... empty. In a pleasant way. As though this darkness was really the void of nothingness, gently cradling me in its soft arms. As though I had nothing to worry about.

I slowly slipped into the depths of sleep.

I woke, rolled over and closed my eyes, fell asleep, woke again. It was lighter in the room now, though I knew nothing had changed. It was as though the walls had become more transparent.

I pulled the blanket over my head. I refused to get up—to face the horrible, complicated, overwhelming day ahead of me. I wasn't ready. Maybe I'd never be ready, and that was okay, wasn't it? I could stay here forever. I could sink into the softness of my mattress and disappear. Everyone else would forget about me. Life would go on without me.

Soft footsteps cut into the silence. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, trying to ignore the way the noise came closer and closer.

Something came to rest, gently, on my back. A hand, maybe. It applied a light pressure and pulled back. When I didn't react, it did it again.

"Fyra."

Not Lark's voice. Obviously. For a moment, I'd hoped it was her, forgetting that her voice had been torn from her by the Magician's curse.

"Fyra," it came again. "It's nearly afternoon. Aren't you hungry?"

I ignored it. If I stayed still long enough, perhaps whoever it belonged to would go away and leave me to my peaceful, empty oblivion.

But it was not to be. The hand patted my back one last time, then grasped the blanket and pulled it off me. I gave a startled squeak. Reluctantly, I rolled over to see who was here.

Sharla smiled at me sympathetically. "You've been through a lot already, Fyra. I don't think starving will make anything better."

I sat up. My back ached where the Magician's spell had hit me.

"Well?" Sharla asked.

"I'm not hungry."

My stomach growled in argument.

Sharla made a valiant effort to resist the smile that curled the corners of her lips upward, but eventually she caved. "Your belly says otherwise."

"Maybe my belly is wrong."

"Maybe you're wrong." Her eyes softened, and her smile faded. She offered me a hand. "Come on, Fyra. You can't stay in bed all day. I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be particularly interesting. And your friends are worried about you. Lark would have come, but since she can't talk... It would have been complicated. We're working on fixing that, though. Or at least making it better."

I frowned. "Fixing it? You think you can make it so she'll be able to talk again?"

"Sort of."

"Can you undo my curse, too?"

Sharla shook her head. "We aren't undoing Lark's curse. No one here is powerful enough for that, and more importantly, no one has the right kind of Blessing. We're trying to find a way for her to still communicate."