Cassie was functional, and really, that was the best that she could hope for. Every morning she dragged herself out of bed, plagued with nightmares that left her more drained than when she had fallen asleep. She exercised the horses, she ran errands for Aldine, and she even took bread to Wynne's uncle when her friend asked her to. Leora stayed with her constantly, but not even that ray of sunshine could bring out a smile or warm the ice weighing her down.
There was a hole in the middle of her body, and nothing she did made it possible to forget. It seemed to have a life of its own, constantly trying to expand, sending sharp ragged pain everywhere when it fought for more room. It was all she could do to encase it in ice, to prevent it from spreading more, from consuming her entire body, until all that was left of Cassie was this evil, voracious hole.
She did everything that she could to please the people around her. So she could not understand why it was that James was constantly frustrated, why Wynne always wanted to "talk," and why, although the tasks she performed were perfectly adequate, Aldine would only look at her sadly and shake her head.
Really, it didn't make sense for them to be displeased with her. She did careful work—if anything, better than she had before. She knew for a fact that she was more help with the nut-picking than she had been with the berry harvest. By focusing entirely on the task at hand rather than wasting time talking with Wynne or playing with Leora, she was able to fill multiple baskets a day by herself. Thomas certainly had no complaints with her behavior now.
Yes, if one just looked at the situation objectively, the town was better off. She did her work, was willing to help others, and the rest of her time she spent sleeping. She was always so tired. Cassie kept to herself, and she would have appreciated it if the villagers would just return the favor. Instead, they were constantly trying to force her to talk.
Leora, oddly enough, respected Cassie's new attitude the most. She never pressed her to return to the meadow and tell stories or play, and never even asked what had happened in the weeks Cassie had been gone. Instead, she sat at Cassie's side during their morning stitching work, as she always had, and filled their days with endless, one-sided conversations.
Cassie's relationship with James was slightly more confusing. She would have understood if he had simply avoided her. James had enjoyed her company in the past because he found her amusing, and she had returned from that battle as anything but amusing.
Instead, however, he had taken to spending a good part of his mornings at Aldine's. Cassie had no idea when he woke up, but somehow he was always sitting in the workroom by the time she came down for breakfast. For the most part, his company was as silent as her own, but his presence was enough. His silent, steady support helped Cassie to pretend she was whole.
But a week after her return, Cassie learned that she would have to make do without James' help. The morning began routinely, with her sitting in Aldine's workroom as the seamstress took care of small repairs. Leora had yet to join them but James was in her place, although his silent company didn't have quite the same effect as Leora's bright chatter. Still, Cassie didn't mind. She always breathed a little easier with him at her side.
A man calling out Aldine's name disrupted the house's peaceful quiet. When Aldine went to the door to greet the visitor, she sounded relieved.
"George," she exclaimed. "I'm glad you're back safely."
He didn't pause to exchange pleasantries. "Is James here?"
"Yes," Aldine said, and let him in.
George stepped ahead of her into the workroom and immediately dropped into the remaining available chair. He looked like he had been dragged through a marsh, and smelled twice as bad.
"Thought I'd find you here," he said wearily to James.
"You're alone?" James asked him, looking back through the doorway.
George sighed. "I couldn't find them," he said, failure coloring his words. "I've been looking for days."
"You should have kept looking," James answered in a hard voice. "We don't have the luxury of hoping for a miracle."
"You need to go," George said. "You should have gone in the first place."
His words were an accusation, and James did not appreciate them. "I couldn't go," he hissed. "You know I can't."
"Cassie, can you come here?" Aldine said, gesturing for her to join her in the hallway.
Cassie shrugged and went where she was asked, but she could still hear the blossoming dispute.
"You know what they're like," George was saying. "You're the only one who could convince them—nobody else even knows how to reach them. If this is so important—"
"She needs me here!" James retorted.
Aldine hastily tried to prevent Cassie from hearing more. "Can you start preparing lunch?" she asked loudly. "I was thinking we could have more of that mince pie you like, or if you'd prefer, we can use the currant jam..." Her obvious attempt to disguise the men's argument failed miserably.
"When she got back, she couldn't even breathe without assistance," James said. "If I leave her...I don't know what she'll do. I can't...if she worsens, and I'm gone?"
George had no pity for him. "If you want her to get better, and you truly believe he can help, you will go. If you want things to remain unchanged, then fine. Stay here. It's your call." A chair creaked, and boots hit the ground. "I'm going home to my wife," he said. "Choose soon, and choose well. You aren't the only one who's worried."
As Cassie drifted toward the kitchen, she almost ran into George, who was already on his way out. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to stay long. He had a family he hadn't seen for a week.
"Cassie," he said, his hands landing on her shoulders. "How are you feeling?"
Cassie stilled, her path arrested by his gentle touch. She had nothing to say to him, and didn't look up.
"Cassie?" he prompted kindly.
Aldine was right; lunch should be started soon. Cassie looked toward the kitchen. They would need to eat, and if Aldine wanted mince pie, that would take extra time.
George sighed heavily and released her. "I hope you feel better soon," he told her, but she was already walking into the kitchen. She had potatoes to cook, and so many ingredients to gather...
She was halfway through cooking when James appeared in the kitchen doorway. His eyes tracked her movements, but she didn't stop to wonder what he was thinking.
When the sauce was just beginning to simmer, he rubbed his hands over his face and unstuck himself from the wall. "Cassie," he began. Without pausing in her work, she nodded to let him know she was listening. "I have to leave for a few days."
In the middle of tasting the food, Cassie froze. Her carelessness was rewarded with a burnt tongue. James was leaving Telyre? Her lungs contracted. Nervously, she rubbed her sternum. Why was he going? Where?
"I'll be back as soon as I can," he assured her, but his words were poor comfort. "I'm sorry; I need to go." As slowly as he would approach a skittish colt, he moved toward Cassie. "But I will return," he promised her. "And I expect to find you in the same condition I'm leaving you in. If I get back and you're not breathing, walking, and working, I'll...kill you." The gentle cadence of his voice was at odds with his words, and Cassie was almost tempted to smile. "I'm relying on you to take over at the stable while I'm gone. The horses need you." He curled one tender hand around the back of her neck and stooped to peer into her eyes, giving her no choice but to look at him. "Be strong for them, okay, little scourge? And for me."
Lulled by the comfort of his touch, Cassie found herself nodding. Yes, she would be strong, even without James to lean on. She would take care of the horses, and keep herself together as best she could.
It wasn't easy. She had relied on James more than she had realized, and with him gone, it was a struggle to even leave her bed in the morning. Nevertheless, she had a stable full of horses that needed caring for, and she dragged herself up every morning to ensure they would not be neglected.
By the end of the second day, she decided that it would be far easier to sleep in the stable on a spare pile of hay, rather than walking home, going to bed, and then facing the same battle to get up that she had the past two days. It worked; in the morning, the stamping of horses impatient for their breakfast urged her to rise and begin the day's work.
A concerned Aldine came looking for her and brought food and Leora came in the afternoon to help, but otherwise, Cassie was left alone to the silence and the comforting company of the animals. Although she barely ceased working all day and barely touched the meal Aldine brought her, she felt more rested than she had for more than a week. Her surroundings were almost comforting, and at the end of the day she curled up in the same spot as before, falling asleep quickly for once.
The next thing she knew was the distant sound of the stable door opening and two men's voices intruding on her slumber.
"Aldine must be mistaken," someone said. "The stable?"
"She does have a way with the animals," a man responded. "I think she finds them more understanding."
"But sleeping here?" the first one said skeptically. "Cassie? She's come a long way, but she'd never..."
They sounded close, but Cassie was too exhausted to open her eyes. All she could do was remain in her half-sleep and hope that they would leave her in peace. The voices, and the loud footsteps along with them, halted suddenly.
"No. Look," the second said. He sucked in a whistle of air. "We can't just leave her here," he whispered.
One pair of footsteps approached. "I'll get her."
"No," the second man said. "I will."
"You?" The first one was incredulous. "She'll kill you if you try."
"I don't think so," his companion answered. "We've come a long way together. She...As lost as she is right now, I still think she trusts me."
"You always were persuasive," the first said, his voice growing wry. "You could convince a dragon to do your bidding, much less a mortal woman."
"It's not like that," the other said defensively. "She's made such a...I've never...it's difficult to explain," he said, frustrated.
"Don't think you have to," the first man said. "Fine, then. She's all yours."
One of them stepped forward and picked her up. Cradled in the stranger's arms, she sensed she was being carried out of the stable.
Something felt different. Something stronger than the arms holding her.
Resting her head on the unknown shoulder, she inhaled a warm, comforting scent. Fresh hay, leather...and sunshine. James. He'd returned. Drawing closer to him, she released a little sigh.
She could breathe.
Drawing breath didn't cause the same agony it usually did. The hole in her chest felt a little better. If Cassie could feel anything anymore, she felt guilty. She didn't deserve the reprieve.
Deserved or not, it was already over. She was being laid down in a bed—her own bed. James straightened up—or tried to. Her fists had become entwined with the fabric of his shirt, and they were unwilling to let go.
Instead of pulling away immediately, James sat on the side of her bed and gently disentangled her hands. He held them, rubbing little circles in the skin, sending her back to sleep before his weight disappeared from the mattress. There was a caressing warmth along her cheekbone, a whispered "Rest, little scourge. I'll be here when you wake."—and he was gone.
Although she was convinced it had been nothing more than a dream, when Cassie woke up the next morning, she found that James had told the truth. He was in the workroom, as though the past three days had never happened, when she ventured downstairs. When she entered the room, he stood and made an effort to smile at her, although the strain in his eyes belied the cheerful expression.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said. "I've brought you a surprise."
Cassie took her first deep breath of the morning, relishing the way that her chest expanded with the aroma of the freshly baked blueberry bread in the kitchen. Was that his surprise? He'd brought some of Wynne's bread for her? The thought of eating turned her stomach. What made him think he could tempt her with more unappetizing food and magically cure her?
"We're all in here," Aldine said over her shoulder as she stepped into the room, carrying the bread Cassie had smelled. She gave Cassie a sweet smile and patted her arm as she passed by. "I missed having you around yesterday," she said, haphazardly pushing aside bolts of fabric to make room for the bread.
Cassie blinked, unsure how Aldine wanted her to react. Did she want an apology?
"Cassie?" James prompted, drawing her attention. "My surprise." He pointed at the doorway.
"Hello, Cassie," a newcomer said, stooping to enter the room.
Skylar? What was he doing here? He bore a weapon on nearly every appendage, a walking armory. Were he and his sister in trouble?
He had changed slightly in the months they'd been apart. His hair was longer, more tousled, and he had grown a short beard. With a detached curiosity, Cassie reached for the unfamiliar bristles, trying to reconcile this apparition with her memories of Skylar. He stood still as her hand extended, although James sucked in a breath.
Midway through reaching toward him, Cassie lost interest. It was more important she force some food down her throat and get to work. That was what James had asked of her, after all—that she breathe, walk, and work. Nowhere in that mantra was the directive to puzzle over Skylar sporting facial hair.
As she turned toward the table and caught James' eye, however, she couldn't help but notice a disappointed frustration in his gaze. Had she failed some test? What did he want from her? She'd done everything he'd asked.
Choosing not to comment on the tense moment, Skylar stepped around and took the seat next to Cassie. "James brought me," he said, although Cassie hadn't asked. "He was hoping I could help somehow." Leaning forward, he laced his fingers together on the tabletop. "So, Cassie," he said. "What's wrong, and how can we fix it?"
Cassie shrugged. There wasn't anything wrong with her. So long as the ice was lodged in her chest, she could function and that was enough. She couldn't talk, but she didn't need to talk to survive. Life in Telyre went on, the same way it always did, whether or not she was contributing to the conversation.
Unfortunately, Skylar wasn't satisfied with her non-response. For the next three days, he pressed her, trying to coax answers from her. In three days, the strongest reaction he got was annoyance. She didn't want to talk, especially not about what had happened during the battle, not even to Skylar.
Talking about it wouldn't bring her sister back. Elisabet's loss couldn't be fixed, so why should Cassie hope to be? It was a wasted effort for everyone involved.
With each day that passed, she could sense James growing more and more frustrated—and desperate. Skylar had been his last hope, and it had failed. She couldn't help that. For the love of sunshine, she couldn't even help herself.
By the end of three days, Skylar had to return home. There were reports of increased bandit activity near their borders, and someone had to guard their home. Where Silvana was, he did not explain. When it was time for him to go, James walked him to Aldine's front door to bid farewell. Cassie made do with a half-hearted wave goodbye and remained sitting at the sewing table. As the two men walked down the hallway, Skylar apologized yet again for his failure.
"It's not your fault," James said heavily. "She's given up. There's nothing we can do that will change that."
Skylar paused before opening the front door. "...There may be one person who can help."
"Who?" James demanded. "Why didn't you say anything before?"
"I hoped it wouldn't come to that," Skylar said. "She could do it, but the price she would demand...I wouldn't ask that of you. I wouldn't ask it of anyone."
James did not hesitate. "I will pay it. Whatever the cost."
Skylar sighed. "Silvana is already hunting for her. When you came to us, she said I wouldn't be able to fix anything here and went into her territory."
"Who is it?"
Skylar lowered his voice. "The witch Orenda."
"A witch?" James was skeptical.
"She's beyond the help of anyone else," Skylar said. "And Orenda is the least untrustworthy one we know."
James laughed shortly. "This will be a lullaby," he said sardonically.
"Good luck," Skylar said, the words sincere. "And be careful what you promise to a witch. There's a reason even the dragons feared them."
"Thank you, old friend," James said. "Safe journey."
He closed the door behind Skylar but didn't move. Heaving a sigh, he rested his forehead against the thick wood. He looked more careworn than Cassie had ever seen him.
Wanting to pass on some measure of the strength he always imparted to her, Cassie finally left her seat and wandered toward the entrance hall. Gingerly, she rested a hand on James' back. He started at the touch, but didn't move away. Instead, he turned to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he laid his head on her shoulder and breathed slowly.
Since coming to Telyre, Cassie had been touched more times than she could count, but this embrace felt more intimate than anything she had ever experienced before. Peasants touched each other to express a multitude of emotions, but the arms that held her were not expressing anything beyond need. James needed support, he needed comfort, and it seemed he needed it from Cassie.
And he received it. Returning the gesture, Cassie hesitantly hugged him back while running one hand up and down his back, wanting to ease his tight muscles.
She took a deep breath, enjoying the familiarity of his scent. His breathing matched hers, the sound calming them both.
After what felt like an eternity, James pulled away. He smiled at her. His eyes were tired, but he almost looked relieved. "That's how I know you're still in there somewhere," he said. "And I won't lose that. I won't lose you."
Cassie wanted to believe him, but it felt like she was already lost.