His thoughts devolve into static.
Aster?
Aster?
Isn’t she supposed to be having tea with the queen?
What is she doing here?
Why is she-
How-
“Gerry,” Damien says, and it’s alarming even to him how eerily calm his voice sounds. How it doesn’t betray the frantic jackrabbiting of his heart, nor the way his mind is beginning to spiral. “What. The fuck. Did you do.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Gerry’s voice is strained, drawn taut to the point of brittle. He tosses his plank to the side, wiping his hands down his face as it clatters against the other boards. “Nox. I know what it looks like, but I didn’t. Do. Anything.”
“There’s a girl out cold on the ground by your feet. How the fuck are you gonna explain that?”
“Bloody Hale Nox, she came out of nowhere! I was minding my own sweet business, about to haul ass and plank so we can finally get started, when all of a sudden this girl pops up out of the blue and runs right into the damn piece of wood! How’s it my fault when she’s the one who couldn’t be bothered to use her eyes?”
Damien pinches his brow between his fingers.
No, Damien. He is your friend. Your friend! Friends do not string each other up from the castle’s turrets because they knocked out the most important person in their life. You must stay calm. Resist. Do not think about throttling Gerry, or knocking the holy spirits out of him. You can’t be convicted for manslaughter now. How are you supposed to fulfil your promise to Selene if you end up behind bars? How are you gonna look after Aster and see that she gets safely married to her prick of a betrothed?
Damien takes in a steadying breath. He crouches down, close enough so he can see the pale sheen on Aster’s face, close enough to wrap his fingers around her wrist.
She’s cold. Not a flicker of a response, even when he lifts her hand. But beneath his fingertips, Damien can feel the flutter of her pulse. Fainter than he’d like, but still there.
Should he call for help? Take her to the royal physician? Send word to the queen?
No, no, he can’t. Gerry will be killed.
Then... what’s he supposed to do?
Damien’s pulse thunders in his ears, every bit of medical first aid drilled into his head scattered to dust in the face of Aster’s limp figure.
She’s still.
So still.
Too still.
Almost as if, she’s d-
“She’s not dead Nox, just concussed.” Gerry crouches down beside him. He seems to be more composed now, but the blood still hasn’t returned to his face. “Get your shit together, idiot,” he sighs. “She’s gonna wake up.”
The static in Damien’s head lifts the slightest bit. “I know that.” He exhales shakily, releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
He glances sullenly at Gerry, before flicking his fingers his way. An icy tendril of wind snaps against his forehead, leaving Gerry wincing. “Look at you, acting like you’re not the person responsible for all of this.”
Gerry frowns, rubbing at his temple. “That hurt, you prick. And I told you already, it’s not my fault.” The look on his face turns contemplative as he regards Aster on the ground. “More importantly, you think we can get Miss Future Princess here to the magic tower? Maybe have Han take a look? Calling for other help is out of the question at the moment, since despite the truth, all evidence points incriminatingly to me.”
Holy Hale, he’s so full of shit.
Damien shakes his head. “Han’s not in right now; he left to do some errands in town right around the time you showed up to drag me into fixing the shed.”
Gerry’s frown deepens. “Great. Now what?”
“We can still take her to the tower. I know a thing or two about medicine myself, you know.”
“Yeah? Guess you ain’t just for show, huh Nox?”
Damien gives him a dirty look. “You’re such a-“ He sighs aggrievedly. “Oh forget it. Shut up and give me a hand, Gerry.”
Together, they manage to carefully manoeuvre Aster into Damien’s arms. Once she’s secure, Damien rises to his feet, Aster’s head cradled carefully against his chest.
“You got anything to cover her hair?” Asks Gerry.
Damien shakes his head.
Gerry tsks. “Same here. Guess I’ll just keep lookout then.” He sets off down the path, scanning the surroundings to their getaway.
Damien’s gotta hand it to him. It’s honestly impressive how coolheaded Gerry’s being about all this, even if he is the one responsible for this mess. Watching him manages to ease Damien’s nerves somewhat.
Just barely.
He glances down at Aster in his arms. Is it normal for people who are unconscious to be so cold? So pale?
His eyes rest upon her closed lids, on the faint shadow her lashes cast upon her cheeks, on the barely there rise and fall of her chest. “You’re going to be okay,” he murmurs, not sure if it’s more for his sake or hers. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“All clear.” He looks up to see Gerry beckoning him forwards. “Move it, Nox.”
They hurry down the path, darting through the gardens and as many shortcuts they can take without being seen. Damien magics up cushions of air beneath his feet, gliding more than walking as he follows behind Gerry in an effort to avoid jostling Aster as they make haste.
After several minutes of running, he stops abruptly as Gerry throws out a hand towards him, both of them sheltered behind a row of manicured bushes. Past the bend where the last of their cover remains, is the path that they’re aiming for: a stretch of open pavement that leaves them completely exposed, before branching off onto the magic tower’s infamous mosaiced road.
“Someone’s coming,” Gerry hisses.
Damien holds his breath as they sink themselves into the cover of the bushes. Seconds later, a man ambles past them, humming cheerfully to himself as he disappears in the opposite direction. One of the gardeners, if Damien’s memory serves him right.
Gerry peeks out cautiously once the man is gone from sight. “Seems to be clear. On my mark, we make a run for it.“
Damien nods. He rises on his heels, readying himself for their final sprint.
“Now-!”
“Gerard?”
Both of them freeze instantly at the voice that comes from behind them.
uni steamrolling me in every sense of the word is a horrible excuse to give,
thank you for reading! <3