Artemis and Caspian: The Spy

Chapter Fifty

He couldn't take it anymore. For the fifth time that day, Caspian refused the King's invitation to join him for a meal. He wanted nothing to do with him. He wanted nothing to do with anything anymore. The warlock just sat in her room, day in, day out refusing the world that knocked on the door. He needed an escape. Everything in this accursed room reminded him of her, and it was getting to him. She haunted his every thought, every memory, every movement and he saw her everywhere. Leaning on the desk, sitting in her bed, on the window sill, smiling at him as she took off into the morning air. It made his soul ache. The smell of her still lingered in the air, permeating everything he touched. He was coming undone.

Caspian was aware he looked nothing short of horrific, with heavy bags coalescing under bloodshot eyes and hair that remained frizzy and unkempt from days of sleeping in a ball curled up on the floor. He had picked up the nasty habit of biting his nails down to the cuticles whenever he missed her, a nervous tick he did to try and feel something that wasn't blind, numbing unhappiness. It hadn't worked.

The King and rest of the court were trying their best to raise his spirits, attempting to tempt him out of captivity with promises of food, comfort and for those unfortunate enough to get a good whiff through the small crack in the door, a hot bath. He'd refused all of them but could sense their desperation. Allister wanted his best physician and tentative friend back in working order, but it was too painful for Caspian to use his powers, slip into visions or do anything else remotely useful. His powers were his burden, the tool responsible for her banishment.

Getting up he walked slowly to the only window, looking out over the castle grounds. Below him on some grass, knights were practicing for an upcoming joust, sticking swords into hay dummies and shouting out commands. Further on, some maids picked fresh flowers for a feasting table, their soft humming carrying through the clearing like sweet lullabies, greeting the warm afternoon. Caspian leaned against the window frame as he observed them down below. He damned all of them for being so bloody happy. Tucked away, he also watched the pond she loved murmur and babble with toiling waters. It looked impossibly empty without her standing there, it was wasting away like him under the afternoon sun.

A bit of the warm breeze caught his hair and he closed his eyes, letting the wind dance through it, rustling loose strands that bent with the air. When he opened them again, he let his eyes fall on a barren tower that sat at the precipice of the garden, ivy crawling up its forgotten stones. He'd watched that tower for some time, going through the seasons. No one even seemed to notice it was there. It just stood, immune to time and erosion as it let the world slip by. Caspian had taken up the habit of observing it over the past couple of days, feeling pulled to its isolation as it sat unattended. He'd always wondered what it was for, but now it seemed ideal. Somewhere for him to slip away, to be forgotten. He needed time and he needed space. He needed a change.

Peeling himself off the window sill he took a final look over her room, walking over briefly to shut an open spellbook, abandoned on the desk. If the gods, Allister and everyone else were going to force him to be at the palace, he would do it on his own terms. His decision had finally been made. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the outside world, smoothing down his hair before he cracked the door open. To his relief, the hallway was abandoned. Most had given up bothering him in the days following the witch's banishment, ever since he became a recluse without formally announcing it. He quickly grabbed a blanket for warmth and a candle for light before ducking into the hallway, praying to all the gods he wouldn't run into anyone on his way out, but the universe was cruel. Grumbling to himself as he darted down passageways, he almost missed the King who himself was distracted by a massive pile of paperwork. Allister with his nose buried in some writing nearly crashed into the warlock as he passed, taking in a mouthful of his fur blanket as the lining brushed up against his face. Spitting it out quickly he was amazed to see the man in broad daylight, barreling down the hallway with a determination he thought had all but evaporated from his spirit.