When I wake next, I find someone else in the bed with me, but it’s not Kaelis. Priss has curled up between my legs. I nearly break myself trying to sit to pet her. But it’s worth it to give her a long overdue scratch between her ears. Her purr alone might be enough to heal me.
Sitting, I see where Kaelis has gone.
He didn’t sleep in the bed with me, despite its size. He did not take the space because he was not invited; that is the only reason I can assume. He’s not even on one of the couches on the other end of the room. The second prince of Oricalis, headmaster, void-born, clan killer, butcher…spent the night on the floor next to me, just so he wouldn’t have to leave my side.
I am taken exclusively between the two rooms. One of pain. One of recovery.
The days blur together in a haze of agony and mending, half sleep and forced sleep when Kaelis casts the Four of Cups to put me out of the misery I am enduring. I don’t fight the reprieve.
But he is always there.
He brings me ice and water. Broth and bread when I can accept something sturdier. He presses cool cloths to my forehead.
Not once does he, or his cat, leave my side.
My eyes are the source of much debate. Their crimson color, while not unheard of, is uncommon enough that it must be changed. It’s synonymous with the infamous criminal Clara Graysword. There’s much back-and-forth as to what can be done with them that won’t impact my vision.
Our discussions last long enough that it gives me some time to properly heal—outside of merely card mending. My thoughts gain a bit of clarity, so I can help him work through theory.
“What about the Wheel?” I ask, despite thinking of Elorin’s warning.
“Too unpredictable. Knowing our luck, you’d get rid of your eyes entirely,” he mumbles, tapping his finger on the dining room table. It’s nice to sit as though everything is normal, even when I know it’s not. The cloths that have been draped over every reflective surface so I don’t see the horrific state I’m in—the polished wood of the table included—remind me of that.
“Need I remind you that I have exceptional luck? At some point I’ll have to use it; shouldn’t I try in a controlled setting?”
“If you’re confident enough…”
That’s the sentiment that has me backing down. I’m too weak to feel confident casting a Major. Instead, we return to the card we so readily dismissed as an option to keep me safe ages ago.
The Seven of Cups alters appearances for a short length of time as an illusion. However, when the magic is enhanced by the Ten of Cups and combined with a minor wish of the Nine of Cups, the alterations seem to stick, at least in a half measure. The change is subtle and too small to use for anything else, especially because of how much magic it consumes. We lose a lot of time to the effort. But it is enough to alter the color of my eyes ever so slightly toward a more rusty brown, according to Kaelis, and that’s all we really need.
The process drags on.
Pieces of myself are scattered across the floor. Kaelis begins to use the Eight of Coins—a card that speeds up one’s performance in a project—to expedite his efforts and push my body to heal faster as we work on other areas. I hear him murmuring to himself in moments of lucidity, but I don’t need him to say his concerns aloud.
The Fire Festival is swiftly approaching, and with it a new academic year for Arcana Academy.
I must be finished before then.
Finally, I wake, and he’s not there.
In his place is a small pile of clothes, neatly folded at the foot of the bed. I study them, tracing each detail with my eyes and then my fingertips. The first layer is a fitted tunic, a deep navy. It has a high collar and long sleeves, both with silver embroidery along their hems. The sleeves taper close to my wrists, looser around my shoulders, clearly designed for mobility without getting in my way. Under that are plain trousers that tuck into patent leather boots. Over it all is a long vest of silver, its lower hem skimming around my calves.
It reminds me of the dress I wore to the castle in Fate Hearth during last year’s winter break. And given everything else…that makes me all the more certain that this was not merely what was on hand. It was crafted. Tailored just for me.
On top of the clothes is a note that reads:
Get dressed and meet me for dinner.
“So dramatic,” I murmur lovingly as I begin to pull on the clothing, dusk streaming through his windows.
As I dress, I feel out of my body. It’s been two days since he last worked on me. The swelling in my cheeks and jaw has finally vanished. My sight is no longer blurry from various dyes and potions dripped into them as Kaelis and I were testing options for handling their color. And my hair…It twists in effortless waves, now nearly to my waist. That is the single element of my new appearance I’m familiar with. I’ve yet to see anything else of my new body.
The prince is waiting for me in the dining room, leaning against the table. He straightens the moment he lays eyes on me. For a second, there’s a flicker of doubt in them. They narrow slightly, as if scrutinizing his work. Or…perhaps as if growing accustomed to seeing me as I am now, rather than how he’s always known me.
“Well?” I hold out my hands. “Do I look like Clara Redwin-Graysword? Infamous criminal?”
“Not in the slightest,” he says with a note of awe. “See for yourself.” Kaelis gestures toward a corner of the room where a tall iron-framed mirror is propped against the wall at a perfect angle to bounce light from the chandelier and candles at night. Still covered by a tarp.
