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“No, I just…” I trail off. “I think it’s making me sick, not hearing from Evander.”
Asha nods. “I get pretty vomitty when I’m anxious.”
So I’ve heard. The Queen of Naenden is rather known for her tumultuous stomach, though I think it improper to mention as much.
I change the subject. “Your nightmares seem to be getting worse,” I say, which comes out not at all as the prying, gentle question that I intended. Fin is officially assigned to check on Asha during the night, but I try to relieve him when I can. The need for my presence is becoming more frequent.
If Asha is disturbed by my bluntness, she doesn’t show it. “My magic is having a hard time right now. Hearing that his sister is wreaking havoc has sent him on a bit of a frenzy.”
She doesn’t seem all that upset about it, and if she did, it’s more like she feels pity for the parasite inside her, rather than resentment.
“You don’t get tired of it?” I ask. “Him projecting his fears onto you?”
She shrugs. “I figure he’s gotten the nasty end of plenty of my less than pleasant emotions. Besides, I don’t know how much better the nightmares would be, even if he wasn’t affecting them. They aren’t all about his sister.”
She trails off and bites her lip. I wait for her to finish, to explain what exactly torments her in the middle of the night, but if she was going to tell me, she doesn’t get the chance.
We pass Forcier’s, the scent of lemon scones wafting from one of my favorite establishments in the city. Nausea churns through me, and I hardly make it to the adjacent alleyway before I vomit all over the street.
Asha follows me, seemingly undisturbed by the mess I’ve made. I suppose she’s desensitized, though I’m not.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks. I hope no one else saw.
“Do you have a rag or something?” I ask, but Asha is already on her knees, wiping the mess from the ground with a terrycloth she pulled out of her pouch.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, but she waves away my concern.
“No one should have to wipe up their own vomit,” she says.
“I don’t normally do this,” I explain, though I do feel a bit better. “I’m not really sure what’s come over me. I never throw up. Even as a child, when I had to vomit, my parents always said I would refuse to. Like I could force my body not to. I’m not sure why…”
I trail off, because Asha is looking at me strangely. In a lack of self-restraint, she glances at my belly.
“Oh.” I cover my mouth with my hands, my mind immediately whirring, counting the weeks since my last cycle. “Oh.”
I’ve been so consumed with worry over Blaise, worry over Evander not returning, I haven’t even thought about my cycle in…
“Oh?” Asha says, a bit too innocently.
I let out a shocked little laugh, then throw up again in the alleyway.
CHAPTER 11
ASHA
I’m drowning. Water cascades into my mouth, dousing the pores in my lungs, stealing the air from my chest. I try to scream, but I can’t seem to force the air out, not with all the pressure building in my mouth and nose.
I beg Calias to stop, but it’s no use. I can hardly form words with the water shredding my throat. Besides, Calias is dead, and the laughing in the distance doesn’t belong to him.
This laugh is more familiar than Calias’s laugh should be.
An icy finger strokes my cheek, lifting my chin to meet a beautiful face. Az’s face.
When he looks at me like that, it hurts. It aches badly enough, the pain from my drowning dissipates by comparison.
“I forgive you,” he whispers. “We’re going to forget all about this.”
“Asha.”
