Page 65 of Liminal
“Howareyou feeling?” Dakari presses.
He scrubs a hand through his beard, pausing in shock, then patting his face as if to assure himself it’s really there. “Sare and kinda stiff.”
I can work on that. With a nudge from me, the ingredients for a tonic start chopping themselves behind me.
Instead of commiserating, or offering comfort, the Talcott heir laughs. “That’ll happen when you spend all your time chained in a Carlton basement.”
I’m not trying to pry, but I don’t exactly try to stop myself from listening as I turn to the small, enchanted pantry in the corner and rummage for something to feed him.
Jasper stiffens. “I…don’t know. Chained in a basement? That seems… Wait… How long was I…?”
His confusion gets deeper with every single word, and pity permeates the heavy silence. I turn, holding a plate out like an offering.
Lambert has signed the Arcanaeum up to something called a meal delivery service. Apparently, the company is run by an arcanist, and the Winthrop heir managed to pull some strings to get them to hand deliver the food to the desk every evening just before closing.
A simple heating spell leaves the cottage pie steaming, and a careful conjuration spell summons a tray on his lap.
“Eat,” I insist, setting the plate down. “If you can get through half, you can go back to sleep.” I pin Dakari with a stern look. “You mustn’t tax him. He’s still recovering.”
Neither of them acknowledges me.
“How long?” Jasper repeats.
Dakari perches on the side of the bed, all humour gone as he examines his friend. His expression makes it plain that he’d rather be anywhere else. “Over a decade.”
“Nah…that’s not right.” Jasper sits up sharply. “I’ve… I can’t… Tenyears?”
He’s hyperventilating now, his heartbeat dancing at his temple. All the work I put into healing him is spiralling undone under the weight of more stress.
With a flick of my hand, I summon a bottle of salts from the top shelf, uncork it, and shove it under his nose. His pupils are dilated, body trembling, as I silently will them to work faster.
A few panicked breaths later, he calms, his body relaxing against the pillows.
“What is that stuff?” Dakari asks, visibly uncomfortable.
“It’s just calming salts.” I dismiss his concern. “He needs to eat, then rest. You’re upsetting him with this, and it isn’t good for him right now.”
With a wave of my hand, I prompt the cutlery into collecting a bite-sized piece of cottage pie and holding it up in offering.
“Please eat, Mr McKinley,” I say, gentling my voice. “Then rest. Nothing can be done until you’re well.”
He’s practically docile as he takes a bite, then another. Part of me squirms with guilt at having to do this, but unfortunately, his trauma and past are going nowhere. Right now, his health trumps that.
Ten years.Magic…Dakari indicated it was a while, but not that long.
“You mustn’t push him,” I reiterate to the now-pacing Talcott. “It took a week to get him back to this state, and he hasn’t eaten in magic-knows-how-long.”
He looks suitably chastised for a second before he resumes frowning. “He deserves to know. His parents will be?—”
Jasper’s head snaps up, and I wince as he slurs. “Do they know?”
I glare at Dakari, daring him to say something as the fork hovers insistently by Jasper’s mouth.
“I’ll tell them you’re back when you’re healthy and things are settled.”
Thank magic for that diplomatic answer. Perhaps the Talcott heir can follow instructions after all.
Jasper’s concentration finally returns to the food. He only manages a few more mouthfuls before he shoves the fork away, but I’m secretly pleased at his progress. He’s not throwing up or complaining of any pain.
