Artemis and Caspian: The Spy

Chapter Twenty Two

Artemis had to keep herself from screaming as her mother slowly ran her hand over the surface of a spellbook, tracing the pattern etched on top, deep in thought. Apparently, her and Caspian's whereabouts had become common knowledge across the realm. Artemis wasn't blind to the wide-eyed stares and gaping faces that gawked at her every move when she wandered outside castle walls. It had been going on for weeks and now she knew it wasn't a delusional fantasy built up in her head. In her heightened paranoid state, she'd noticed recently that they irritated her more than they previously did. Maybe it was because the phenomena was getting worse by the day. She didn't ask for this and she was a human being underneath it all wasn't she? Subconsciously she crumpled up an unfortunate piece of paper that lay blank under her palm.

It had been two weeks since the nightmares began and as much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to unravel. The changes were small enough to be overlooked by the general public but she knew the threads that held her together were slowly starting to fray and she knew Caspian noticed every one. The bags under her eyes were getting darker, a few strands of hair were sticking strangely out of place in a normally neatly tucked braid, a small cut on her palm bled where her sharp nails were digging in to pierce skin. She couldn't remember the last meal she'd eaten. Then her mother came. Oh gods her mother came.

She was deep in thought that morning, fighting to keep her eyes open through the sunrise. As she rifled through a book of haphazard, incoherent notes she kept, trying to sort their meaning a pounding headache begged her to get some well-needed sleep. She hadn't slept in days. How could she? Every time she closed her eyes the image of the goddess pouring out her blood burned itself into the witch's memory.

Then unannounced and quite unwelcome her mother came bursting into her room, promptly disrupting any kind of progressive thought process Artemis might have been on. As she prattled on about hearing of her whereabouts around town and giving her daughter a once over of her newly adopted insomniac attire, Artemis desperately tried to cling onto any revelations she'd been working on in the past hour. After that had failed, she engaged her mother in conversation with blunt, short phrases. Deep, deep down Artemis did recognize she harbored guilt about keeping her mother in the dark initially about her being the savior. Although they'd never been on the best terms, she loved her despite their many differences.

"I was surprised you didn't tell me," Celeste had said, crossing her hands one over the other in that high-end way she did that drove Artemis mad. Artemis ran her hands through the top of her hair, creating a ripple that caused more strands of dark hair to fly from their resting places.

"I'm sorry," she responded quickly, crossing her own arms and shrugging. "I was sworn to secrecy. There's a war going on. I wasn't protected out there."

"But I'm your mother," Celeste had started slowly adopting that holier-than-thou tone Artemis also hated, "You should have-" She cut herself off abruptly, shaking her head, a small smile wavering on her lips. "I always knew you were different."

Artemis taken aback and lost for words, responded with, "I know."

And now, now they were hanging in horribly awkward silence as her mother struggled to find words to say, tracing the outline of that old spellbook, hovering over the words of an old tongue. The witch heard Celeste heave a heavy sigh filled with the guilt and exhaustion of a mother. Then she picked herself up and walked slowly towards Artemis. Wearily the young witch allowed her eyes to track her movements. Celeste put her hands on her daughter's shoulders which tensed under her touch.

"Artemis. I know I haven't been the best mother. I won't pretend to understand you. But-" Artemis noticed the slight tremble in her mother's lower lip and fought the urge to break free from her grasp. "I love you. Very much. And I don't know what you think of me. But despite everything that's happened, I trust you. And I trust you know what you're doing-"