Page 105 of Nocte

Even when Poppy knocks on my door and declares, “Morning!” I am alone.

I wallow in this loneliness. If I am to have no race or identity, then this is who I shall be. A shell of a shell of a shell. I will wear a bright pink dress and let my hair hang limply. I will walk like a ghost and stare at nothing.

Be nothing.

I will let myself fade entirely into nothing.

But I can’t. Caspian needs me. Caspian. Caspian.

So I will be this dirty, broken thing. I will remain standing with my head high. I will be, even if it means losing the part of me that was always fae. Not fae.

In a sense, perhaps I am still fae.

But something else. Mixed with something else.

My head spins as I linger in the storefront while Poppy tends to every guest. When lunchtime comes, she skips outside while Altaris brings me another tray of food.

I eat woodenly, tasting nothing. For Caspian, I eat, tasting nothing. For me—whoever that is—I eat, tasting nothing. I eat and eat until I can’t swallow another bite.

“Good girl,” Altaris remarks as he takes my empty tray away. His tone is softer today. His gaze is different. Pitying. Worried.

Whatever he planned, will he do it now? Wake up my Caspian?

No.

“I don’t appreciate your pouting,” he says with a sniff. He raises a wrist to his mouth and buries his nose in the silken purple sleeve. “It’s crowding the air around here. Making it sullen. I think, however, I have found something that will cheer you up.”

My heart races and sputters. “C-Caspian?—”

“No,” he says over me. He lowers his arm and flounces over to a shelf crammed with books. Having worked here for a day, I’m not even sure what the purpose of these items are. They don’t seem to be for sale—the customers seem to request only what has already been prepared for them, in those brown paper bags. None of them felt heavy enough to be a book.

Even so, Altaris tuts under his teeth while running his finger along the spine of a book. With a grunt of triumph, he frees it and offers it to me.

“Some reading material to pique your interest,” he explains before dropping the volume onto the counter. It lands with a soft thud and sends up a choking cloud of dust. I cough, my eyes watering, as I warily inspect the cover.

It isn’t bound in leather and embossed with gold like the books in the archives. Instead, a scratchy black material forms the cover, and the title is stamped into the fabric in peeling silver paint:The Other Realms; a history.

“Other realms?” I say, skeptical already. This must be a fiction novel, for there are only two realms. The mortal world and the other realm.

“Read it,” Altaris says. He watches me carefully while stroking his chin. I can’t read his expression. It isn’t cold like before. Perhaps, questioning. He isn’t commanding me to read as much as he’s…daring me to. “Or don’t. In any case, it’s yours. Now take it up to your room and come down with a better attitude, tomorrow. Off with you, now. Go!”

I take his book and return to the green room with it tucked under my arm. Even as I crouch beside Caspian, I don’t read it yet. Instead, I lay my head on his lap and wait.

Two Days.

Two decades.

I’m not even sure which timespan feels longer.

CHAPTER40

Niamh

On the third day, Colleen returns. She arrives just after lunchtime when Poppy has already gone for her walk and Altaris left me a tray of food. She enters the shop, unbothered by the dusty air or the piles of pointless things. She navigates them as though she could do so with her eyes closed.

She knows this place.

Likes this place.