Celeste's life is far from the enchanting fairy tale one might expect from a princess. Her father, a ruthless and self-absorbed king, leaves a trail of death and destruction in his wake. To seal alliances and maintain his power, he arranges for Cele...
Carefully, I push the needle into my arm. The blue fluid flows into my lifelines, and slowly, the burning pain subsides to something bearable. I sigh, leaning my head back against the stone wall.
'Cel?'
My eyes snap open, and I quickly remove the needle from my arm. I kick the vial of Viante, along with the needle and the book full of black spots, under the bed. Just in time before Novak enters the room.
Surprised, he looks at me sitting on the floor against the wall.
It's been a month and a half since we arrived at this small house, and the excruciating pain began. Viante is the only thing that makes it bearable. Starting with less than half a milliliter, I now take one and a half. Whether the pain is still increasing or Viante is becoming less effective is unclear.
No one knows the true severity of the pain, except Micca and Gwen. The amount of Viante is also a secret they keep, and I intend to keep it that way.
'What are you doing?' Novak asks, surprised from the doorway.
'I dropped my pencil,' I lie, holding it up. Only then does he notice the papers on the bed, which I placed there as a distraction.
He nods slowly before announcing that dinner is ready and walks out of the doorway.
Sighing, I lean my head back against the wall.
The past month and a half has been hectic. It took three days before I could bear the pain enough to get out of bed for a day. It was also the moment Gwen, Kilian, and the others found the place too small and left. Micca stayed behind.
After a week, we took out the list and map again. With the fight at the castle, we decided to cross off some names. The amount of magic taken from that battle equated to five names. That left us with the final twenty.
Of those twenty, we have now crossed off three. Lole Putna, a magician living on the outskirts of Livas. Norges Fitel, a magician who once served as a captain in my father's fleet and now captained the pirate ship, the Emerald. Lastly, Nirittia Silva, an elf who settled in Livas for love.
Seventeen to go.
As I step into the kitchen, a small smile appears on my face despite everything.
Today is November 15th, Elien's fourteenth birthday.
Though no one really felt the need to celebrate, including Elien, Alisha insisted we should.
'Not everything in life revolves around death and destruction,' were her words.
Novak went into the forest to search for mushrooms and apples. Micca went to the local farm for meat, cheese, and milk. Elien went to the mill for flour and other baking supplies. Alisha spent the entire day in the kitchen, and I helped wherever needed. I set the table, and the drink supply was replenished.
The red tablecloth is filled with dishes and tableware we stole over the last month. The dishes filled with wood fire-roasted chicken with mushroom sauce, fried carrots, and pumpkins with garlic and rosemary, and baked potatoes with cheese. The apple pie will have to wait for dessert.
'He's fourteen.'
'So? Everyone drinks whiskey at fourteen.'
'No, Novak, kids drink milk.'
'This kid has killed more people than the average guard. He's having whiskey.'
Alisha shakes her head, sighing, while Novak smugly pours a glass of whiskey and slides it to Elien.
'Celeste, say something,' Alisha grumbles. Only then does the rest notice me in the kitchen doorway.
'Pour one for me too,' I say. Alisha rolls her eyes and slumps back in her chair.
As Novak slides a glass of whiskey to the last empty seat at the head of the table, I take a seat. Novak gives me a smile before focusing on Elien next to him.
'Take a sip,' he encourages my brother.
Elien has had to adjust to life outside the castle over the past few weeks. A young deer learning to walk would be a good comparison. His blindness has left him unfamiliar with the most basic things. How to make fire, how a kitchen works, how to cook, stores, making a bed, and I can name dozens more.
Elien was always curious, and I'm glad to see that never changed. Despite everything being unknown, he eagerly grabs hold of anything he can learn.
He takes a sip and looks surprised at the glass as the liquid reaches his throat.
'Why does it burn?' Micca starts to laugh.
'There's alcohol in it. If you're anything like your sister, you'll quickly figure out what that means.' Elien looks at me with raised eyebrows before downing the whole glass without hesitation.
Smiling, I watch as he starts coughing
'So, food?' Tries Alisha to turn the subject. Elien coughs several more times before we nod and compliment Alisha on the food.
Even though the food tastes tasty and looks well prepared, I don't scoop up more than a few carrots and a piece of chicken with sauce. The Viante is anything but good for my appetite and taste.
Everyone starts eating quietly while I quietly sip my whiskey for now.
'How are the new tubes doing?' I ask Alisha who just put a bite of chicken in her mouth.
Alisha's blood turned out to be enough for four hours before Elien started hallucinating again and the pain returned. It soon became clear that there was no getting away from taking Alisha's blood once every four hours.
She devised a system in which she designed a small tube, three centimetres long, that would deliver just enough blood every so often to keep Elien in tune and the pain away. The tube itself sits in Elien's upper arm. Making the opening and holder in his arm was not a pleasant sight, as was adjusting the tubes themselves. I lost count of how many times it went wrong but after four weeks of fiddling, she managed.
She now wants Elien to be able to go wherever he wants. One tube now lasts about a day but she hopes the new one might eventually work for a week.
She fleetingly raises her hand, eats her mouth and takes a sip of her whiskey before she can speak.
'Slowly I'm starting to get there. Elien is just not cooperating,' she grumbles.
'Do you think it's crazy? You keep poking my arm with tweezers and expecting me to sit still.'
Grinning, I take the first bite of my chicken. Everyone eats quietly talking and drinking before I finally ask the question that has been on my mind for weeks.
'Micca, what's your story? How do you have legs?'
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