The Book of Trials || ONC 2019

Chapter Twenty-One

Later that night, I sat in the parlor with Jaren and Miss Mylda while he explained to her the situation. Occasionally, I nodded or murmured my agreement, but most of the time I wasn't even listening. My mind was elsewhere, hooked and trapped on the words Firhetya had said.

I'd been cursed by the child of a murderer. Laveen Merenais had most likely lost her mind sometime after leaving Azareba. Otherwise, why would she have done what she did? Even Miss Mylda looked somewhat shaken over the idea of Laveen Merenais' successor being the book's curser, which only served to feed the fears itching at the back of my mind. I stood abruptly when Evyne entered the room later wearing nightclothes and jumped on the opportunity to leave, claiming to get ready for bed.

Once out in the hallway, though, I found myself running. Dread pulled my chest taut from the building realizations of Firhetya's words and I found it hard to breathe. What would it take to rid myself of this curse? Why had it been placed on me at all? I mean, who curses people they don't even know? I turned a corner and slammed head-on into someone, knocking both of us to the ground with an incredibly loud thud in the otherwise silent hall.

"Ow! What the—? Veia?" Atlas squinted up at me, blinking a few times as he gained his senses. He clutched his newly bandaged arm tenderly.

"Atlas?" Oh, holy curses. The thoughts of Firhetya were instantly banished. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?" Why did I sound like I was about to cry? Did I always have to cry in front of Atlas? I hoped he wouldn't notice the fiery embarrassment rising up my face.

"What am I—? You're the one who ran into me! And I'm just ducky, thanks." He hesitated, looking at me more closely. "Are you okay, though? You look like someone's after you."

"What? Oh, no, I just..." I looked down, noticing for the first time that I was on top of Atlas, a tangle of limbs and skirts and fabric...

I was on top of Atlas.

Letting out a short screech, I thrust myself to my feet and wobbled around a bit, mortified. I tripped, then, and almost fell over my skirt again if not for Atlas, who jumped up and caught me, managing the feat one-handed. Not again with him catching me! Why was I like this?

Atlas looked as surprised as I felt, a tinge of worry creasing his brow. "Veia, what—"

"Don't ask! Don't ask, okay? I'm just... I'm perfectly fine." My voice snapped with panic, my thoughts a frenzy of actions and reactions and very little actual consideration of what I was saying.

Atlas closed his mouth, looking taken aback at my outburst, and nodded. "I won't ask, then."

Oh. I had shut him down, hadn't I? Guilt washed over me in a cold wave and before I realized it, I had reached forward and grabbed Atlas' sleeve, causing him to startle again.

"No, actually"—I sucked in a shaky breath and released it—"talking to someone... might be nice."

I stared down at his sling, feeling like a child as he stared back at me with his perfect, crystalline eyes. It was as if he were trying to figure out how it was possible for a person to panic and break down and mess up as badly as I did. Shame followed the guilt and I felt a lot like crying again, but I didn't. I'd made that mistake once before.

Atlas took my hand suddenly and began leading me down the twisting hallways. He didn't say anything and I didn't trust myself enough to speak, so the only sound was of our footsteps on the wooden floors.