Page 87 of Sonnets and Serpents
Brothers was accurate enough, at least in an emotional sense. Even at the mention of Gill, Silas felt a stab of longing for what he’d left behind, what he’d never have again. Plenty of things could be replaced in life, but not people. That was why it was so dangerous to forge relationships in the first place.
He looked down at the flat yellow band encircling his wrist, binding him to a girl who had her attention on someone else.
“It isn’t safe here,” he said abruptly. “We don’t know who else Ceyda is in league with or who else knows about this place, and the main tunnel is a highway for the kuveti. We can talk at the university.”
With more effort than it should have taken, he managed to stand and maneuver himself back up the stairs. Eliza fretted over Henry, who kept assuring her he was uninjured, just weakened. He must have been under thetasumakfor an extended period. Once he came back to his full senses, he’d be ravenous.
Out on the street, Silas flagged down a cart puller to take them to the university. The three of them piled into the back of the wooden cart, and Silas clenched his teeth, bracing himself for the long, bumpy ride over uneven streets.
Though, somehow, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as watching Eliza snuggle up to Henry’s side, resting her head on the knight’s shoulder.
Under Silas’s directions, the cart puller left them at the healing hall, one of the outermost buildings on campus. Both a Fluid Caster and a non-magical physician looked him and Henry over, though the knight remained tense the entire time. Based onhis comfortable mention of Gill—“Baron,” as most people called him—Silas hadn’t expected Henry to be wary of Fluid Casters. Perhaps he was still disoriented from the sleeping Cast.
“I’m sorry I can’t do anything to speed the antivenom,” said the Caster on duty after she finished examining Silas. “Circulation Casts cause harm if not done right, and I’m a first-year student. Once Iyal Mazhar or Iyl Daria come in for a shift, I could send for you.”
Silas declined. Given enough time, his body would reach the point where it had to heal on its own anyway, and the tea she had given him had eased the pain.
He hesitated, then asked, “Has there been any word on Iyal Mazhar? I’d heard he was ... missing.”
The girl frowned. “He skipped his morning shift, but no one’s told me more than that.”
“Never mind.” Silas thanked her again and exited.
He took Henry and Eliza to the dining hall, where they managed to catch the last scraps of the evening meal. As predicted, Henry inhaled everything available, including half of Eliza’s plate after she insisted for the third time that she was full. But he acted strangely while he ate, hunching his shoulders as if trying to ignore everyone else in the room, flinching when the staff turned any attention on him. He’d acted the same way with the healers.
Silas had a sneaking suspicion why, but he wasn’t about to address it in public.
The dorm had never felt farther away, and though the Caster’s tea had eased the burn in Silas’s leg, he still limped. He tried to focus on the light fading from the sky, the layers of gray clouds painting long streaks across the darkening ocean in the distance. It was almost unbelievable how much had happened in a single day—their planned arrest, the torturous search in prison, everything in the tunnels.
He’d transformed Eliza into a snake only hours ago. The memory of her trembling in his arms was sharp and fresh, as was her smug expression when she corrected his sonnet and the warmth in her voice when she thanked him.
Now that she had her beloved Henry back, how long would she stay? Probably not a moment longer than it took Yvette to break the Cast.
Silas found himself suddenly hoping Yvette would take an immediate, possibly indefinite research leave.
The tiny dorm had felt cramped with two people, but three made it so they couldn’t close the door without shifting someone out of the way. Henry sank onto the cushion, pressing his back to the wall. Eliza stepped over his legs and wedged herself into the space between him and the dresser while Silas perched carefully at the end of the bed.
An awkward silence fell. Eliza fidgeted. Should she talk? Or wait?
Her self-restraint finally cracked.
“Henry, what happened to you?”
Henry picked at his healed arm. He gave a small toss of his head, moving his hair back only for it to slide across his shoulder again.
Silas sat without moving, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles with his injured leg propped up. There was no tension in the gentle slope of his shoulders. He didn’t ever seem bothered by silence or emotion.
It took an eternity for Henry to speak, and Eliza clenched her jaw tightly to give him that time. She remembered his overwhelmed face when she’d first spoken to him in the tunnel.
“Well, you know the first bit.” Henry tried for a smile that quickly faded. “I was banished from Loegria, and I got on a ship to Pravusat.”
“A ship that sank.” Eliza’s chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe.
Henry flinched. “Yeah.”
He continued picking at his faint scar, his worn clothes, his growing stubble, until Eliza felt the need for more information like snakes crawling across her skin.
Finally, she prompted, “You washed up at the tabernacle?”
