The Princess and the Warlock

Chapitre Vingt-Deux

I was pulled from sleep in a slow tug, my mind tickled with thoughts of consciousness.

A lock unhinged, swinging a door to the world wide—I heard everything, felt everything, at the same time, though my body was still trying to catch up, my brain still trying to make sense of everything bombarding my senses.

There was a stinging pain in my right side, as potent and sharp as a honeybee's kiss.

A pulsation throb echoed in my head, a jackhammer shaking and breaking apart my mind, pushing me closer to full consciousness.

And then—words. A whole string of them, fired like bullets, one after another. Pitched in a high tone, and though it was laced with affection, it was dripping wet with anger.

I wasn't even sure what language they were being thrown in, but anger, fortunately, had a universal curvature. Unlucky for the recipient of the words, however.

I peeled my eyes open, parting the two slabs of concrete that just wanted to remain pressed together. The only thing dryer than my eyes was my mouth, my sandpaper of a tongue sticking firm to my roof.

My body felt constricted, like a snake had wrapped itself around my middle. And it wasn't the familiar sort of corset-constricting pain—I knew that sort of cramping like the back of my hand—but rather much looser and cooler, strangely. I didn't feel like lifting my head from its relaxed position to check, even though I was lying on a bed of straw. I could feel the individual spokes shift underneath my weight as I moved, poking at my skin.

It was nothing like my bed at Gossington. Gossington.

Kaius.

The pressure at my side and in my temples increased slightly, and it knocked loose memories that had gotten buried as the medicine brushed over it.

The creatures, crooning voices and stringy hair, and Kaius coming out to save me—

Kaius' eyes.

What else? I can remember his eyes—a demonic sort of darkness, unnatural and all-consuming, but nothing else. Not even a fraction of a sliver of memories remained.

"I cannot even look at you," the angry voice hissed, finally switching into a language my ears could understand. "Really and truly, you make me want to tie a cauldron around your waist and dump you in the Scion River."

I finally lifted my head and peered down at my body, flinching when I saw my bare torso. Or, well, not completely bare. What had felt constricting earlier turned out to be bandages and gauze wrapped around my chest and stomach, trailing to disappear beneath the sheet that covered most of my body. I was covered, but in every way did I feel indecent.

The gauze around me aggravated the sensation of pain at my side, but, I noticed, was also seeped in something cool and icy, giving the gauze a bluish hue.

"Aren't you going to say anything? Or are you going to let me yell at you some more?"

I waited so long to hear the answer, but I resigned to the fact that it wasn't coming. I pulled at the blankets that lay over top of my body. I bit down into my teeth to trap a moan, a pins-and-needles sensation resonating through my limbs and acutely painful. I had been immobile too long—everything has long since fallen asleep.

My entire body stilled as I heard a voice—a voice I'd know anywhere, a voice I dreamt about—

"I cannot possibly feel any worse. You're welcome, but I already know how badly I screwed up."

No. No, no, no. That was bullshit. Bullshit. I hauled my legs over the side of the bed to plant my feet onto the floor.

Slowly, my body was waking up as more and more thoughts swarmed around me.