Lustful Alchemy

41. CASSANDRA

A muffled sound breaks through the darkness enveloping me; a familiar voice, warm and steady, like a lifeline in the dark abyss I've been cast into. Aesop. It's him. Even though the words are indistinct, his presence is unmistakable. I feel it with all my senses. I know he's here—I've always known. Slowly, my body responds. It's a struggle, but I manage to open my eyes.

The light in the room is soft, gentle, and yet almost unbearable for my weary eyes. I see him, standing near my bed, speaking with Nurse Blainey. His face is hollowed by exhaustion, dark circles etching his features like deep furrows. But his eyes are sharp, alert, alive.

«Aesop...» I murmur, finally drawing his attention to me. I don't know how long I've been here, away from him, but his presence is all I need right now.

My voice is a whisper, but he hears it nonetheless. «Cassie?» He moves closer, leaning toward me, his movements slowed by the cane in his hand. Before I can wonder why he's using it, he sits, taking my hand in his and gently brushing my hair, his expression almost incredulous, tinted with a fragile happiness: «I'm here. I'm here with you.»

His eyes meet mine, and a smile breaks across his face—faint, fragile, but beautiful. His hand rests on my skin, so warm against my still-cold flesh. A tear slips down his cheek, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or, if he does, he doesn't care.

«I always heard you...» I tell him. Even in my unconscious state, I could feel his presence, his voice. His love. «It's good to know you're really here,» I add with a faint smile.

«I'm here,» he confirms, his hand brushing over every inch of exposed skin. «And I'm not going anywhere, Cassie. Never.»

Noreen moves in front of us, her face also lit with a renewed smile. She leans down to whisper something to Aesop, but I can't hear it. Then she busies herself with potions and medicines, moving back and forth around my bed.

I try to move, to do something, but I feel utterly exhausted, as though my body has been cramped in a tight space for centuries. I manage only to lift my free hand, my trembling fingers reaching for Aesop's cheek.

«Are you alright?» It's all I can manage to say, yet within that question lies everything: worry, relief, gratitude, and love I cannot yet put into words.

His smile widens as his hand strokes my hair. «I should be asking you that. I'm not the one who's been asleep for three days.»

I lower my gaze, too tired to let out the liberating laugh I'd like to, but something catches my attention. I try to focus on what I see, and it's undeniably what it appears to be: his wheelchair. And he is sitting in it.

Him, in that chair—the very same that caused our heated argument, both of us caught in a whirlwind of desperate love. It seems like an illusion, yet it's undeniably real, just inches from me; and he sits in it as though it's any other chair. For the first time, his disability doesn't seem like a symbol of defeat.

The knot tightening my chest loosens slightly. «You're sitting in your chair...» I murmur, the faint smile of understanding what's transpired from Rookwood's attack until now forming on my chapped lips.

He tries to rely on humor, though his voice is strained, as if he fears losing me at any moment. «I didn't have much of a choice, considering you refused to wake up.»

I try to respond with a laugh, but a bout of coughing stops me, forcing me to remain serious, even though my heart overflows with joy.

«Careful, Professor Sharp,» Noreen scolds, as though it were his fault. «Don't exhaust Professor Doyle too much!»

I wave a hand in her direction, trying to reassure her. «No, Noreen... Laughing can only do me good after...»

I don't finish the sentence. The memory of what happened crashes over me, still terribly vivid in my mind, and a sense of oppression grips me, tightening my throat.