The book lays open on my lap as I sit next to her, my hand holding hers. The buzz our touch has always created is still there, right under my skin, but there is something missing from it. I can’t quite decide what’s different about the buzz, I just know it isn’t right.
One moment I’m reading about the properties of herbs and how they affect spells, the next I’m waking up slumped over Cecily. There’s no way I nodded off like this on my own, there was an unnatural force behind my actions.
My forearm starts to burn. Pulling up my sleeve, I gaze down at my mate mark. Either my vision is failing me, or my mark is beginning to fade right before my eyes. Panic floods me. Please don’t let this mean Cecily is dying for real right now. My movements are frantic, but I can’t find myself caring about it right now.
Reaching across her body for her left arm, I lift it up and push the sleeve up so her mark is visible to me. My mind loses focus, and for a moment, I can’t remember what I’m doing and who’s in front of me. Shaking my head, I clear my mind of the confusion. Gazing at her mark again, I see it’s still in perfect condition.
Holding my arm up against hers, so our marks are aligned, I watch as my fading mark comes back in all of its previous vibrancy. What is going on here? The world feels different around me, like there is something vital missing. It’s as if a change has happened, and it’s not a good one.
I close the journal and place it on the stone next to Cecily before giving her a kiss on the forehead. If something has changed, as I feel it has, it’s important I investigate it. There’s a pulling on my chest encouraging me to return to Silas’ home. It’s the last place I want to be, but the eeriness in the air has me concerned. He’s done enough to mess with this world of ours already, I need to make sure he hasn’t tried to make things worse, yet again.
My mind is consumed with troubling thoughts as I travel back to the place I grew up in. On top of my worries, my mind prickles with an itch, like something is trying to mess with my memories. I don’t like it. It’s intrusive and wrong. It needs to be fixed.
Walking into the village outside of Silas’ castle, I can tell something is wrong. Different. It’s typically quiet, but right now, there’s a dead silence, an emptiness in the air. There are some villagers laying on the ground as if they fell in the middle of completing whatever task they were accomplishing. Bending down next to the first one I come across, I check to see if they’re even still alive. They are.
This knowledge helps speed things along as I make it to the castle, able to walk by all those passed out with a clear conscience. After searching high and low for Silas, I find him in his spell room, down in the dungeon. I suppose it should’ve been the first place I searched.
Unlike everyone else I’ve encountered so far, he’s up and about measuring out herbs into a mortar. It’s clear to me he’s in the middle of mixing a potion together. From the ingredients laid out, along with the page he has open in his book, he’s preparing to make the same potion he spilled on my arm to reveal my mark.
The mark in question begins to tingle, and I suddenly get the urge to cover it up with the same spell I use to cover my secret escape route. Ducking out of view from Silas, I cover the mark before he has the chance to see me. As soon as it’s no longer visible, I step out of the crevice where I found refuge to perform the spell.
Silas spots my movement and immediately greets me. “Ah, my boy, there you are. I need you to help me with a spell. Crush these herbs into a fine dust for me while I gather everything else we need.” I swear those are the exact words he said to me last time he needed my help with this spell. What’s going on?
In a daze, I pick up the pestle and begin the process of crushing the herbs he has in the mortar. “Push up your sleeves, boy, we need to make sure we don’t contaminate anything.” He said that the first time too. The only way I’ll be able to get any information is if I play along with him right now.
We work side by side getting everything mixed in the order it needs to be done in, and finally the potion is ready. This time when he has the mixture in hand and asks me to reach for his spell book, I’m ready for the searing hot liquid to touch my skin.
Sure enough events happen just as they did the first time we went through this charade. Although this time, it’s slightly different, seeing as how you can’t make something appear which is already there. He watches expectantly as the liquid drips off my arm and onto the table we’ve been working on.
The spell covering my mark begins to become destabilized by the mixture, causing me to put my full focus into keeping it in place. Just because my focus is on protecting the mark from being seen, doesn’t mean I don’t observe the myriad of expressions crossing Silas’ face. At first he’s hopeful, then curious, and finally ends up with a furious expression.
Once I know the spell is going to hold without my concentration, I jump up from my seat to grab a cloth to clean up the mess from all over my arm. Even though the burning sensation was expected, it didn’t prevent the pain of a massive burn. Thankfully, my healing abilities kick in right away, working to soothe the burn and reducing the blistered skin. Within a few minutes, the bright red skin is reduced to a light pink before vanishing all together.
“I’m so sorry, Uncle, we can get started right away on making the potion again.” I know this is the right thing to say because it’s what I said the first time this happened. Although last time, he had a smirk on his face and was acting like he was helping me to heal the burn mark seared into my skin. Little did I realize at the time, he was coaching me into transferring my mark onto a parchment, so he could petition to see if my mark matched a royal. All of this I learned when Cecily shared her memories with me.
Silas doesn’t quite answer me, rather mumbling his thoughts out loud where I can hear them, “No need, I must have formulated the spell incorrectly again. I had such confidence it was correct this time. Pesky mark is proving more difficult to force to the surface than I had anticipated. Maybe if I add more Oak bark. Or maybe it should be a fungus of some sort…” He continues rambling on as he picks up his spell book and writes some notes in the margin of the page he has open.
This is all so odd. It’s like the last several weeks never happened. “Uncle, do you by chance know where Cecily is?” I can’t help but ask him. If he doesn’t know she’s my mate...
My question seems to startle him out of his thoughts. “Who?” In all honesty, his response doesn’t surprise me. He’s never given much, if any regard toward maidens.
“Her Royal Highness Cecily... the fair maiden who was visiting here.” I try to nudge his memory. I should’ve been significantly smoother in my presentation of my probing question. My opinion of the royals has changed since Cecily shared her memories with me, but that doesn’t mean any of his opinions have.
His face gets red, and his eyes narrow on me. “If I knew where any of the lost royals were, they wouldn’t be alive anymore. Do you really think I would sit on that kind of information, boy? I raised you to use your mind, not be an incompetent waste of my time. Now get out of my sight. You’ve done enough damage here tonight.” He waves his arm out toward the door in a clear gesture for me to leave and not argue with him any further.
It’s so strange for him to not know where any of the royals are... maybe he called them lost because the castle was empty and dismantled when we arrived. I suppose it could be the explanation, but something tells me it isn’t quite the right answer. He acts as if he has no idea who Cecily even is. She spent weeks here, he had conversations with her. Not to mention, I know he’s aware of her name because he mocked it in a private conversation with me.
I know what to do to find out. The maid who cleaned her room would certainly remember completing her tasks. Hopefully, she isn’t passed out still, like all the others I’ve seen. With haste, I head toward the servants’ quarters, a place I’ve never found the need to be, until now. Shame fills me when I come across a maid and can’t ask for the maid assigned to Cecily by name. In fact, I can’t recall what any of their names are, something I’m now impassioned to remedy.
Cecily has certainly changed me, and I strive to be a better man from seeing her example, not just while she was here with me, but in all of her memories too. After giving a lackluster description of the maid I’m searching for, I’m able to track her down when told about her current duties. Heading straight for the kitchen, I find her elbow deep in water, washing the huge stack of dishes from the midday meal.
“If I may have a moment of your time, I need to ask you the whereabouts of the maiden whose room you’ve been servicing the last few weeks.” The maid gives me a frightened yelp. Not that I can blame her. Usually when Silas takes it upon himself to address a maid, she’s severely punished for something.
Clearing her throat, she begins to stammer, “S-sir, I h-have not been assigned any rooms to service this month. P-please, you m-must have the wrong maid.” She’s gone deathly pale while trying to answer me. I really hope she doesn’t faint.
“Well, surely you’ve heard of a fair maiden staying here at the castle for the last few weeks?” Her mouth pops open in puzzled surprise.
“M-my lord, are you w-well? This castle hasn’t had a guest since two fortnights ago.” I won’t be getting any information from this maid. It’s clear she’s too frightened of me to lie, which means she doesn’t remember Cecily being here. And this was most certainly the maid who was servicing the room. Just because I didn’t trust my mate’s intentions doesn’t mean I didn’t care about her safety and educated myself on who was around her.
