Lord Liverchester

Chapter 22

For days, not much happened. I lost track of time, waking up every morning exactly the same. Dorian finally slept through the night, the pain in his stomach finding a way to subside. He wasn't in bad shape anymore, adjusting to life without relying on alcohol much better than any of us expected. I was proud of him, waking him up every morning with a kiss.

"Are you alive?" I would ask, shaking him gently.

"Unfortunately, yes," he would reply, groaning or laughing.

Some mornings weren't the most chipper. He was still sick, the pain creeping back to haunt us on many occasions. He dealt with it in whatever ways he could, taking drugs, drinking tea with sedatives in it. I disapproved but said nothing, only warning him not to take too much. He listened, fully aware how much was too much. Just before my birthday, he found the best way to manage his pain. I don't know what it was, but by the time it came, the night of the full moon, Dorian was the most changed I had seen him yet. He woke up that morning without my kiss or asking if he was alive, instead waking me. It was wonderful to open my eyes and see his face staring down at me, soft sunlight making his brown eyes glow. He smiled, his hair falling over his eye. I greeted him by touching his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss. He had shaved his beard again, though I hadn't asked him to. He looked years younger despite his graying hair, the way I had always imagined him. More and more I wondered if he was even real, or if he was a figment of my imagination in the Alternate. Without remembering him, forgetting the name that went with the face, he was just a man I vaguely knew. There was a familiarity in my dreams, like this person was out there somewhere, trying to pull me back. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if that was his way of contacting me. We had briefly discussed it before, but that morning, I couldn't shake it from my thoughts. Dorian had lied back down, staring at the wall deep in thought like me. On instinct, he picked up his head. I asked, but there was no need to. He didn't have to say a word, nuzzling my neck before finally getting out of bed. He got dressed in many layers, favoring black shirts layered with a waistcoat and blazer once again. The weather wasn't so warm suddenly, almost as if it listened to Dorian, following his orders. He stood leaning against the wall as I got ready for the day too. We talked in short about what was to come. He had many surprises lined up for me, but first we had to take care of the gatekeeper's cabbages. I hadn't been out of Dorian's house since I got there, so getting to leave and see something other than the same dark red walls and dusty furniture was exciting. We left his bedroom after many hours of sleep. The night before hadn't been much to write home about. We had dinner, and for a long while afterward, each of us read books from his library. I hadn't yet seen it, but it was now my favorite room in his house. I was under the impression that it was just a small room hidden in the parlor, but truly, it was a great big room. It had everything I could ever dream of, shelves stacked with thousands, possibly millions, of books. There were other things too, like figurines that were dangerously close to the edge of many of the shelves. There was a bear skin rug on the floor and black and red upholstered chairs. Dorian cared about that room a lot, keeping it neat and in order. His books were arranged by genre, fiction and nonfiction, and in alphabetical order. His favorite was history, so it had the largest section dedicated to it. Many books he had inherited; they came with the house. Others were from his own personal collection, such as the entire history of languages and things about war ships. He gave me a tour of both floors of the library and we each chose a book that sparked our interest. He picked out one of the thickest books I had ever seen, while I chose something simple about a young man's adventure with a king on another planet. Both of us had gotten pretty far in our respective books before going to bed. We tried hard not to stay up late, but it happened anyway, and here we were at midday instead of bright and early. Bladrian greeted us at the door and exchanged quick goodbyes with Dorian, doing their usual ritual that ended in a salute. I felt there was no danger today, feeling light on my feet. Dorian was the same, bouncing down the house's front steps and leaping onto the lawn. He put his dark glasses on and led me down the walkway out onto the street. His boot heels clicked on the street's bricks, echoing all the way past his house and into town. It was a busy weekday on the town square, but we ignored the crowd and slipped to safety against the buildings. Our mission was simple, and we intended to keep it that way. There was a man selling vegetables in the middle of the street, part of the daily market. Dorian's eyes were set on him, standing on the pavement's edge before sauntering up. I followed Dorian's lead, letting him do any talking. Together, we picked our cabbages and paid for them, a painless and easy transaction. From there, Dorian took me to a lady that sold fruit, and he bought our lunch. It was easy to get lost in the crowd, blending in easily and finding our way out again. People respected us, one person recognizing Dorian but letting us pass by. We had no time to stop and talk, rushing for the forest and leaving the town behind. I had so much energy and I just wanted to run through the trees. I had to wait, not wanting to damage my cabbage. It was already looking gross, like a bug had eaten it. For the most part, it looked okay, but its edges were brown. The man in the market's cabbages were all healthy and green, hardly rotten at all. I wondered to myself if we shouldn't have bought them earlier and let them sit out for a few days. I had a few doubts that this time's sacrifice would be good enough, but I didn't say a word, instead falling in line behind Dorian as he marched through the weeds that grew between the trees. His sights were set and I didn't want to bother the good air that circulated around us.