The Cursed

Chapter Twelve

Lilura

I wake with a throat like sand and eyes like leaves in autumn, dry and rough. I wasn't hers. I could be free, I could leave right now. I shake my head, and it feels like a hundred waves crash through my mind. I grip my head to hold the pain back. I wasn't hers. I could be free, I could leave right now. That's when the weight of my thoughts hit me. Hers. I wasn't hers. I- it was supposed to be his. I don't ever remember needing the phrase, but it was I wasn't his. Not hers. I groan and toss the blankets off of me. My skin is hot and sticky. I stumble out of the bed and my head swims. My feet trip over themselves as I collapse back into the tangle of sheets. A hand hits my door, as Everette enters my room.

"Oh God you look—"

"The only thing to leave your lips should be silence," I snap. A blush rises to my cheeks. "My Captain I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

"Naturally, Lilura. How do you feel?"

"Not well. My head aches and my voice feels like glass." Everette's eyes darken. He mutters words under his breath and looks around my room.

"I will send for food. Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?" I stare at him for a moment before responding. All my questions turn in my head. Why did a witch "cure" me? What curse was she talking of? Why did I see butterflies? I want him to tell me everything he had been promising to do since my butterfly vision. So I say what has been on my mind, the tip of my tongue, creeping forward, threatening to spill out. But in my tire the words slip out. And then begin to pour.

"You could tell me why I fell ill. What did the witch do?" I watch him run a hand through his hair as his eyes snap back to mine. I shift on my bed so my legs are covered by blankets.

"Lilura, now is not the time for me to discuss such things—"

"There is no time better suited than the present." I glare with all the strength I can muster. Concern laces over his face.

"Tomorrow will soon be our present and I shall tell you then. For now rest and eat. I'll send Alan to check on you every few hours," he says before nodding his head curtly and sweeping out of the room. The door closes  with a snap. I begin to hum, my head leaning back against the head board. I curse at the closed door, Everette isn't revealing anything. He promised. That was the only thing that could get me through seeing a witch, falling ill, and now this? He wants me to wait? I would storm up to him and stare at him until he tells me, but I am too dizzy to even get out of bed. I growl in frustration.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of Alan and various sailors coming to check on me and to bring me soup and water. I have been unable to remove myself from the tangles of my sheets, so I have taken up writing. I had Everette bring me a leather notebook where I wrote of constellations and my memories. No more have come to me today, and I am thankful. I still know not what to make of the one with Everette in the field. We must speak. I hear a knock and I call out for them to enter expecting another sailor to bring me more water.

"Hello," I say, surprised. Everette enters my room.

"Lilura," he says as he nods his head before sitting on the edge of my bed. The mattress sinks slightly lower with his added weight. "You look better."

"Thank you, I feel better although I am still very dizzy." I hum in the silence that follows. We sit for several minutes, looking out at the waves. They rise and fall, pulling me into a delicate sleep. Before I fully surrender to my dreams, I feel Everette's lips on my forehead and I am reminded of that meadow. That beautiful meadow where neither of us had any woes to trouble us.