Page 104
Story: What Blooms from Death
A corner of his mouth inched upward. “And here I thought raising the dead together would have brought us close enough to share a secret or two.”
I tried to mirror his smirk with the same confidence he carried, but my attempt fell flat.
He watched me expectantly for a moment, but when I didn’t answer, he focused his attention on the platter of food as well. Seeing an opportunity to distract him, I quickly handed him a plate and insisted he eat something.
He accepted the plate and carefully, neatly filled it, but didn’t take a single bite of anything he’d grabbed.
It was a habit of his, I’d noticed—being more concerned with putting his food into perfectly neat, even piles than with anything else. He never ate all that was before him, was slow to eat what he did, and he had a tendency to silently re-count and size it all up after he swallowed down each bite—like he was preparing to ration and hoard it. It seemed like a strange mannerism for a prince who had undoubtedly had more food than he knew what to do with, growing up in the Elarithian Palace.
“Well?” he prompted, glancing up at me. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or not?”
His voice made my heart skip a few beats; he sounded genuinely concerned. Not thestrangestthing I’d heard today…but it was high on the list. And it pulled the truth out of me.
“The ones we raised weren’t truly dead,” I blurted out, voice trembling a bit despite my best efforts to keep it from doing so.
“…What are you talking about?”
I placed my fruit back onto the tray. I was hungry—starving, really—but I strongly suspected anything I ate was only going to come right back up.
“The ones we revived weren’t really deceased,” I told him. “They were…” I shook my head. Tried again. Failed again. After several false starts, I managed to repeat a condensed version of the information my brother had given me.
When I’d finished, breathless and still trembling slightly, Aleksander took a seat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees as his head bowed in thought.
A minute later, the sound of voices outside reached us. His eyes narrowed on the door. We both tensed, likely wondering the same thing—were we truly safe here?
“Do you think they’re telling you the truth?” he asked, once the hall had gone silent again.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
His brow furrowed.
“Though I think I’ll be more inclined to believe them once they show me to Luminor,” I said. “Thalia claims it’s here. If she can keep her promise about leading us to it, then maybe…”
His eyes flashed with renewed interest at the mention of his sword, and I recoiled slightly, remembering for an instant how we had started this journey: Asenemies.
What a strange, twisting path we’d taken to get to this point.
And if what my brother said was true, it was only going to get more twisted. Because Aleksander and I were from two entirely separate worlds—worlds that were not able to exist in tandem. So what happened to the Above if the Below was successfully revived?
What happened to the world I knew best, and to Aleksander and his kingdom?
Tous?
More importantly, why the hell was I thinking ofusas a collective entity?
Gods, I needed to stomach some food somehow; I was clearly getting lightheaded and delusional.
“I’ll believe they actually have the sword when I can hold it again, and not before,” Aleksander said, snapping me back into awareness.
“Agreed,” I said, pacing the room. “And this is what I came to this world for; I’m not sure why I’m hiding in here, now, instead of marching myself down to whatever place the sword is being kept in.”
He muttered a simple explanation, his eyes glazing over in thought once more: “Because this is not how you imagined the end of your quest would go. It’s gotten more complicated than expected, hasn’t it?”
I didn’t want to admit he was right—how did he know me so well, all of a sudden?—but I couldn’t deny his words.
Quietly, I said, “I don’t want to be a savior of this world. I don’t want any crown this palace has to offer. I’veneverreally wanted any of those things, even in the Above.”
“You were always royalty, even in Eldris,” he reminded me.
I tried to mirror his smirk with the same confidence he carried, but my attempt fell flat.
He watched me expectantly for a moment, but when I didn’t answer, he focused his attention on the platter of food as well. Seeing an opportunity to distract him, I quickly handed him a plate and insisted he eat something.
He accepted the plate and carefully, neatly filled it, but didn’t take a single bite of anything he’d grabbed.
It was a habit of his, I’d noticed—being more concerned with putting his food into perfectly neat, even piles than with anything else. He never ate all that was before him, was slow to eat what he did, and he had a tendency to silently re-count and size it all up after he swallowed down each bite—like he was preparing to ration and hoard it. It seemed like a strange mannerism for a prince who had undoubtedly had more food than he knew what to do with, growing up in the Elarithian Palace.
“Well?” he prompted, glancing up at me. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or not?”
His voice made my heart skip a few beats; he sounded genuinely concerned. Not thestrangestthing I’d heard today…but it was high on the list. And it pulled the truth out of me.
“The ones we raised weren’t truly dead,” I blurted out, voice trembling a bit despite my best efforts to keep it from doing so.
“…What are you talking about?”
I placed my fruit back onto the tray. I was hungry—starving, really—but I strongly suspected anything I ate was only going to come right back up.
“The ones we revived weren’t really deceased,” I told him. “They were…” I shook my head. Tried again. Failed again. After several false starts, I managed to repeat a condensed version of the information my brother had given me.
When I’d finished, breathless and still trembling slightly, Aleksander took a seat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees as his head bowed in thought.
A minute later, the sound of voices outside reached us. His eyes narrowed on the door. We both tensed, likely wondering the same thing—were we truly safe here?
“Do you think they’re telling you the truth?” he asked, once the hall had gone silent again.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
His brow furrowed.
“Though I think I’ll be more inclined to believe them once they show me to Luminor,” I said. “Thalia claims it’s here. If she can keep her promise about leading us to it, then maybe…”
His eyes flashed with renewed interest at the mention of his sword, and I recoiled slightly, remembering for an instant how we had started this journey: Asenemies.
What a strange, twisting path we’d taken to get to this point.
And if what my brother said was true, it was only going to get more twisted. Because Aleksander and I were from two entirely separate worlds—worlds that were not able to exist in tandem. So what happened to the Above if the Below was successfully revived?
What happened to the world I knew best, and to Aleksander and his kingdom?
Tous?
More importantly, why the hell was I thinking ofusas a collective entity?
Gods, I needed to stomach some food somehow; I was clearly getting lightheaded and delusional.
“I’ll believe they actually have the sword when I can hold it again, and not before,” Aleksander said, snapping me back into awareness.
“Agreed,” I said, pacing the room. “And this is what I came to this world for; I’m not sure why I’m hiding in here, now, instead of marching myself down to whatever place the sword is being kept in.”
He muttered a simple explanation, his eyes glazing over in thought once more: “Because this is not how you imagined the end of your quest would go. It’s gotten more complicated than expected, hasn’t it?”
I didn’t want to admit he was right—how did he know me so well, all of a sudden?—but I couldn’t deny his words.
Quietly, I said, “I don’t want to be a savior of this world. I don’t want any crown this palace has to offer. I’veneverreally wanted any of those things, even in the Above.”
“You were always royalty, even in Eldris,” he reminded me.
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