Chapter 41 - Aster

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My cloak

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My cloak. I need—the black door. It's in the black door.

I'm flying, and my arms have weights stuck to them. Moving, flying chains.

* * *

Green and black and white and green and black and white and green green green...

* * *

A room around me. The blazing orange walls roar at me.

"Drink this."

Broth trickles down my throat. When my head falls to the side, the liquid puffs from my mouth, and a voice of feathers reprimands, "No, no, no." A soft hand rights my head, and I drink.

Her hands tug a soft, heatless fire up my body, but it doesn't bite or sting. Instead, its caressing flames simply come to rest, holding me, and I drift back to sleep.

* * *

Two voices talk, softly, as if trying not to disturb a sleeping child. My heavy eyes lie closed, and I listen for a moment, attempting to decipher what they're saying.

Is that the same girl that spoke to me before?

It suddenly clicks why I can't understand them. They must be speaking whatever tongue she had.

Am I still in the prison?

Light filters through my eyelids. My body rests against something soft, a smooth, heavy comforter atop me.

Doubtful.

Trying to keep my breathing as even as possible, I slit my eyes open. Glaring orange is the first thing to greet me. I'm on a flamboyant bed, a large orange quilt over me. Standing across the bright space, the girl from the prison and a boy about my age are quietly talking.

His flat-brown hair is just a little too long, falling slightly into his eyes and ears. Despite the gangliness of his arms and legs, his stance is easy and arrogant. He's wearing some sort of strange leather clothing, chains poking out of pockets throughout and an ankle-length coat with long, round sleeves resting over it all.

I open my eyes the rest of the way and wait for them to notice.

The girl sees me and cuts off the conversation. She moves to the bed. "Hello." Her kind eyes flit over my face. "How do you feel?"

"Where am I?"

She sits on the edge of the bed. "An inn. In Draó," she adds.

My brow draws. "Where in Draó?"

She considers. "It's the same town as the manor. We're safe, though," she hurriedly continues. "No one knows you're here."

For now. Surely that can't last long if I'm in an inn.

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