Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion

Chapter forty-four: Memory

(TW: Cruelty to a child, threats, mentions of blood)

As Callidus drifted back to consciousness, he sensed the warmth of another presence nearby. Pain pulsed from his left arm, where gentle hands were cleaning his wound.

"Cressida," he murmured, his voice barely audible, the name a reflex of his subconscious desire for her presence.

The hands paused, before continuing their task. The surroundings were quiet. The smell of alcohol and blood permeated the air.

"Cressida," he repeated. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I saw...your chest... I didn't mean to..."

A low voice chuckled awkwardly in response. "...now Birdie didn't mention that."

The sound stirred a flicker of recognition in Callidus's mind, but he couldn't quite place it.

"I'm...sorry," he managed to croak once more. "I didn't...mean to see...but wow..."

The voice snorted. "That good, huh, Your Highness? Can't say I relate."

"...Like...two moons but shaped like...giant acorns."

"Right, right. Well, whatever helps you keep the pain off."

As Callidus awoke once more, the sound of dead leaves rustling in the night air enveloped him. He slightly shifted and felt as if there was something heavy sitting on his back. He vaguely recalled the sensation of someone cleaning his wounds, and he tentatively whispered.

"...Cressida?"

But there was no response, only the hollow echo of her name.

Panic set in.

The room around him was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the weak moonlight filtering in through a sizable hole carved in the wall, its entrance guarded by a grate designed to allow sunlight while keeping out unwanted creatures. Lying on a blood-stained towel on the hard stone floor, surrounded by brittle leaves and dead flowers, he slowly realized where he was.

As he attempted to stand, his head collided with a solid surface and something fell from his back, clattering to the floor with a loud metal clang. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and he fell back onto his stomach, belatedly realizing that he had been lying beneath a gardening table this entire time. A heavy metal planting pot had been resting on his back, apparently keeping a thick towel in place over his wound.

As his head throbbed from the impact, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. His heart quickened with anticipation, his mind immediately conjuring images of Cressida's worried face. But as the figure drew nearer, the dim light revealed features that did not belong to his beloved.

"Trying to add a concussion to your list of injuries, Your Highness?"

Quail.

Callidus's lip curled in a snarl as he strained to push himself up, determined to not show any sign of weakness. But the effort was futile, and he collapsed back onto the ground with a groan.

"Yes, yes, you're terrifying," Quail muttered, crouching down beside him.

Gritting his teeth, Callidus fought against the pain and the overwhelming sense of humiliation. He found it difficult to reconcile Quail's presence with the fragmented memories floating in his mind.

"...Cressida?" Callidus hissed. "Where is she?"

Quail chuckled, as if sharing a private joke. "Go back to sleep. I'm sure she's in your dreams somewhere."

Quail's nonchalant response only fueled Callidus's panic.

"Cressida."

"She's fine, Your Highness. You think I'd be babysitting you if Birdie was in trouble? I'm honestly surprised you didn't attack me on sight."