Cloud Piercer

Eleven

All evening, Casimir's mind wanders far away.

I can see in the subtle grind of his teeth, the way he taps his finger against the kitchen bench, repeatedly runs a hand through his hair. It could be anything—Jyro's passing, the upcoming Red Moon, concern over the storm. And it could be completely in my head. But Killian's words create a paranoid frenzy inside my mind.

My eyes draw to the clock on the wall. It's well past the time he could be expected to go to the fields. But he hasn't removed his coat.

"Igeth or mavea?" he asks.

"Igeth," I say, watching as he crumbles the tea leaves into the warm water, analysing his every move.

I hate that I let Killian get into my head. Merely entertaining his words feels like a betrayal to Casimir and our decade-long friendship. But no matter how hard I try to shut the warnings out, they snake their way back in.

"Shall we go to the roof?" I ask, looking out the window. It's getting darker earlier heading into autumn. "It'll be too cold before we know it."

"I don't want you to hurt yourself climbing up."

"I told you I feel fine."

"I told you I don't believe you."

He turns, bringing a steaming ceramic cup with him, and places it in front of me. The rising steam manipulates the air, reminding me of the way that cloud twisted unusually in the street that night.

"Careful, it's hot," Casimir warns as I bring it to my lips. The liquid soothes my raw throat.

"I'm really sorry, Cas," I say. "About Jyro, I mean."

"The only thing you should be apologising for is running into the storm and risking your life. Because that was incredibly stupid."

"I know."

He looks at me, doubtful. "Do you really?"

"I do. But I wasn't thinking straight when I thought you might've been in danger. I don't even know what I could've done if you were in danger but I just... I—"

"I get it. I do."

I know he does. We're all each other has in the world and loss is much too familiar to us both. We've never spoken in depth about his childhood. Only that, at 10 years old, his mother left him at the doorstep of the orphanage and disappeared.

"You must be tired," he says. "I'll let you get to bed."

"All I've done is lie in bed for the past two days."

"Your body went through a lot. You'll need more rest."

I think of my conversation with Killian, suddenly wondering exactly what my leg had looked like when he found me. Cadence said it looked like I'd been hacked into, but Killian said I'd probably fallen and torn it up—those two wounds wouldn't be similar, right? Casimir never mentioned anything about the wound, and I hadn't thought to ask. All I know is that what I remember happening—getting attacked by a shifter—can't have been real.

"Cas, you said they found rocks in Jyro's stomach. Do you think... do you think he swallowed them on purpose?"

"No."

"You think someone forced him to swallow them? That there was someone else in that cloud trying to hurt him?"

"I don't know." He purses his lips, looking down at the table. "Maybe it was an accident."

I'm not sure how you can swallow rocks by accident. "But what if it wasn't?"

"It was." His eyes cut to mine. "Jyro was happy. He had a great family, and the harvests were up this year. He wouldn't have tried to end his life."