The Secrets of Lore Seymour

50. Cyan's Nightmare

Cyan P.O.V.

Lugging Seren's deadweight back to his room is my workout routine for the month. He weighs way more than I thought, or my noodle arms are merely that weak. For my own sake, I'm going for the former option.

After dropping his ass off in his room, I hurry away before he wakes up to cry more. I had to listen to his sniffles and, frankly, I hate the sound of snot.

"Don't tell me Seren's dead body is in there," Arline says outside the door.

I nearly scream in terror, but instead glare at her. "Hasn't anyone told you that you shouldn't sneak up on someone in the dead of night?"

"Someone might have mentioned it once or twice, but hasn't anyone told you not to leave a dead body in a place it'll be easily discovered? Especially if that body can be quickly tied back to you."

"He's not dead," I growl, lightly pushing open the door so Arline can see Seren on his bed. Breathing. And unharmed. Physically, at least. Mentally, if he remembers tomorrow, he will be severely fucked up.

"Pity," she says. "Why were you in there with him?"

"He drank himself silly, then paid me a horribly unpleasant visit to ask why I left the church."

Arline eyes me suspiciously. "And did you tell him?"

"Yep."

"How'd he take what I imagine to be the hard truth?"

"He sputtered denials and cried the whole way here."

"He may not be a total lost cause then." She smirks devilishly. "If we all speak to him some more, we may end up making a paladin leave the Holy Church. When was the last time that happened?"

I laugh. "Long enough for neither of us to remember."

"Didn't His Grace warn us not to meddle with Seren without his permission?" Draven asks, appearing around the corner from the stairs. He leans against the wall, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "The two of you better stop concocting whatever horrendous idea you've come up with."

"We haven't concocted anything," Arline claims, hands held up in surrender. "Cyan merely gave Seren a good talking to and now he might be more palpable."

"His Grace will determine if that's true or not. As he said, our job is to protect the children and the estate. That is all."

"You're so fucking annoying," Arline grumbles, then leans down to whisper in my ear. "I don't know what you see in him."

I give her another glare that she ignores. Claiming she's ready for bed, Arline takes her leave, disappearing down the stairs to her room on the first floor. I'm about to join her when Draven steps in my path.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I attempt to step around him, huffing angrily when he holds out his arm so I run into it. Stumbling back, I turn my glare to him. "You do recall that we are, once again, not talking to each other after that shit you pulled in His Grace's office."

Draven scowls. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Oh, really? I'm so sorry for misunderstanding. Whatever could you have actually meant by insisting I shouldn't be allowed to follow His Grace to Vexsis?"

Draven has either been stumped speechless or, more likely, he doesn't want to reply. Rolling my eyes, I walk around him, ramming my shoulder into his arm. He grunts.

"Cyan," he calls, following me down the stairs. "You know you have this annoying belief that everything I do implies you can't handle yourself--"

"Because you have this annoying habit of constantly implying it," I counter, pivoting on my heel at the bottom of the stairs. Draven almost slips down a few stairs when I, unexpectedly, start jamming him in the gut with my finger. "I know I made a mistake three years ago. I got myself shot. I know you feel guilty about it because you were meant to be watching me on that mission, but I learned my lesson and I haven't made a mistake like that again, have I?"