Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 38: A Deadly Proposal (Part 2)

A/N: Music is Hope by Yiruma. Play it!

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I toss and turn in my bed, feeling unusually warm under the blankets. I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. Yet my eyelids can't close. I haul myself out of the comfort of the mattress, padding over to my little table and pulling out the stool to sit on it, feeling the chill of the night seeping into the soles of my feet.

It's dark, but from the waxing moonlight streaming in from the open window, I can see the few objects I have neatly arranged on the table: my mirror (caked with dust and grime), a candle (half-melted), a limited copy of The War of Minds (tattered and battered) and a vial of medicine.

I blink, straightening myself on my seat. I'd totally forgotten about the concoction that Galennus Asa had given to me. If the black specks swimming in it harbour any malicious intentions, I certainly haven't felt it yet. Then again, I've only taken a small dose of the medicine—perhaps its effects only come when I start taking it in regular doses.

I toy with the vial in my fingers, wondering what the potion is truly for. It's definitely not a simple circulation stimulator like the Galennus had claimed. That I know from the pull of my necromancy—if I concentrate hard enough, I am able to feel some fragments of power connecting me to the vial.

Allura...She had once mentioned that she was interested in the healing arts. She's not a Galennus, but her skills should be sufficient to discern the contents in the vial. I make a silent reminder to get the vial to her tomorrow.

Galennus Asa. The thought of him subconsciously connects me to Diomedes and the second assessment. I've been trying to push the horror of the encounter with the necromancer out of my mind the whole day, deliberately focusing on matters which didn't need my attention at all. I have been mostly successful, treating my mind like a storage room, only taking out what I want. Now though, the storage room has been transformed in a heap of rubbish, clutter strewn throughout the messy tresses of my mind.

The only focal point in the chaos is Diomedes' proposal.

My fingers clutch onto the edge of the table; I barely manage to restrain myself from crushing the brittle wood. Breathe, I remind myself. Inhale. Exhale. That's it.

When I've finally calmed myself down, I think back on the day's events, recalling, reflecting.

Sir Payton. Roderick. Garthy. Vaughan. Music. Assessment. Lute. The words scramble in my mind almost erratically, yet with an order that would instantly connect my mind to flashes of images, all stringed together to form a sequence of events. It's a strange sensation, but I keep letting the memories flow, knowing that trying to put a halt to it would only further rattle my nerves.

The words continue to swim around, seeming to never end, until they slowly come to a close: Sir Isaac. I hear my ragged breaths; I see my trembling hands. I close my eyes and continue to remember.

The rest of the assessment had been halted as soon as Gilbert reported the appearance of Diomedes to Captain Eldric. The Knights of Elder were finally forced to acknowledge the fact that no more assessments could be held until the threat of the necromancer had subsided.

Gilbert and I were also told to be prepared for a war council tomorrow, at precisely eight in the morning. I wonder why the king hadn't called for one the instance he knew about the incident. Perhaps he's just too tired to deal with all of this, especially after Diomedes' attack only a few days ago. Like me.

Meanwhile, when I delivered Sir Isaac into the frantic arms of the Galenni, Galennus Asa had been one of the first to react to the emergency. It was odd, considering that a physician of his position would only attend to a selected patients. His behaviour had also been unusually aggressive, demanding that the knight should immediately have surgery performed on him. Not for the first time, I began to ponder if he's Diomedes in disguise.