Chapter Twenty~nine

Only a Dream

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The heat was unbearable. Flames crept along the walls, melting the paste behind the wallpaper, which curled down in sheets, then caught fire and were burned away, leaving clouds of ash to swirl through the oppressive air.

Where was everyone?

The smoke had forced him to the ground, to the ever-narrowing pocket of breathable air there. He coughed as he crawled along the hallway, hands and knees burning against the carpet as he went.

Every room he passed held a raging inferno. A sound of shattering glass came from overhead, and his skin was stung as fragments littered the carpet around him, but still he crawled forward.

Ahead... ahead should be the parlor. Would anyone be there?

His breathing slowed. His lungs must work too hard in this hot, smoke-filled air. It was exhausting.

He had almost made it to the parlor. He could rest just for a moment. That would be alright. Only for a moment.

He lay down on the floor and curled himself into a ball.

But what was that sound now?

It barely sounded human, this harrowing screech that seemed to go on forever.

He tried to pull himself up again.

Was that a person? Where were they?

The smoke had become too thick to even see just ahead of him, let alone as far as that ghastly scream.

Another crash, and there were hands on him, pulling him up, an arm around him dragging him away.

He was suddenly awash in cold, thrown, and now face down in deep snow.

No, he couldn't leave, could he? He had to help. Someone needed him.

Someone needed his help.

 

Kelvaran sat up in the unfamiliar bed, pushing the blankets away. He was drenched in sweat and gasping for air. There was no light at all, and he couldn't remember where he was just now.

Somewhere, the screaming continued.

He waved a hand and a lamp lit itself.

Jumping out of bed, he grabbed the long dagger out of his boot on the floor and ran into the hallway toward the sound. Three doors down, he burst into another pitch-black room.

The screaming had stopped, and through the darkness came the sound of Kazia's voice.

“I am safe now,” she whispered. “I am safe now, I am safe now, I am safe now...”

Kelvaran waved a hand and lit the bedside lamp.

Kazia appeared in the pool of warm light, sitting up in bed and hugging her knees to her chest, her hair unbound and falling in a tangled mess over her arms, rocking herself and chanting this reassurance.

Kelvaran immediately recognized it as one of Mistress Amelys' techniques.

Still on high alert, he surveyed the room but saw nothing else amiss.

Kazia did not seem to notice that he'd come in, or that he'd lit the lamp. She only stared at the bed in front of her, the whispering unceasing.

Kelvaran breathed deeply and released his tension.

“Lady Devratha?” he said gently.

She gave no response, so he approached.

“Lady... Kazia?”

Her eyes swept in his direction, and she suddenly jumped, backing up to the headboard and clutching the blankets to her chest, an almost wild fright crossing her face.

“What!” she cried out. “Why are you here?”

She glanced at her own boots on the floor, eyeing the dagger she kept there, then looked at Kelvaran's hand.

He realized that he was standing in her bedroom, dressed only in a knee-length shirt, still brandishing his own dagger in a potentially threatening manner.

He lowered the dagger and took a step back.

“Apologies,” he said. “I heard screaming, and thought there might be danger.”

Kazia looked around her room, then gave a shaky sigh as she relaxed a bit.

“No,” she said. “It was only a dream. I'm sorry if I disturbed you.”

She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.

“Thank you, though, for your concern,” she added, peering at him over the rim of the glass.

He turned to go, but turned back again.

“Will you be...”

“I'm fine,” she interrupted. “I will be. This happens... frequently. I'm used to it.”

He nodded, turned away, then turned back yet again.

“Your door was unlocked.”

Kazia stared blankly at the open door.

“Was it?” she said. “A stupid oversight. I must have been tired.”

“Come lock it behind me,” he said.

Kazia nodded, then put down her glass and threw the blankets back, swinging her legs around to rise.

Her nightdress was pushed up to her knees, and as she sat on the edge of the bed, Kelvaran's gaze was drawn to her bare legs. The light was dim, but she appeared to have several red scratches across her calf.

“Are you injured?” he asked with a frown. “There aren't any cats here are there?”

Kazia followed his gaze, then hurriedly rose to let her nightdress fall around her legs, smoothing the fabric down.

“No,” she answered. “That... isn't anything to concern you.”

Kelvaran looked away.

“Apologies again,” he said with some embarrassment. “I'll go.”

He retreated into the hallway to see two guards approaching, with Tamyn on their heels.

“Everything is fine,” Kelvaran told them. “Lady Devratha just had a nightmare. All is well.”

The guards went back to their posts, leaving Kelvaran and Tamyn alone in the hallway, Tamyn looking at Kazia's door with an expression of worry.

Kelvaran started back toward his own room, but paused and gave Tamyn a quizzical eye.

“Have you seen any cats here?” he asked.

“Why?” Tamyn replied, glancing warily at the dagger in Kelvaran's hand.

Kelvaran glanced at the dagger as well, then rolled his eyes and moved it behind his back.

“Lady Devratha had a number of wounds on her leg,” he said. “They looked like scratches of some sort, but she seemed eager to hide them. Why would she deny an injury?”

Tamyn's face fell and turned a bit pale as he looked at Kazia's door.

“Were they fresh wounds?” he asked quietly, “or could they have been old?”

Kelvaran thought for a moment.

“I didn't look long,” he admitted, peering thoughtfully at Tamyn. “What do you think? What are you not saying?”

“What shall remain unsaid,” Tamyn said firmly. “I won't participate in your harassment of her. You should go back to rest now, Lord Meratha.”

“I wasn't...” Kelvaran muttered to Tamyn's retreating back.

He gave another suspicious glance to Kazia's door before returning to his own room.

 

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