She would try to follow him. While his illness hadn’t been a lie, he couldn’t allow her to care for him. She would try. He knew she would. Even when she hated him, she cared.

  Instead of heading up toward his lab, he instead veered off into his dust covered bedroom. He hoped this would at least keep her off his trail for a few more minutes. This room was not likely one of the first she’d look.

  Until she had insisted on a comfortable place for him to lie those long months ago, he hadn’t touched the bed since Kyrian was alive. He’d barely stepped foot in the room to remove the buildup of dust every few years.

  He laid next to the small drops of old, dark blood that had stained the now dusty sheets while she had tended to the wounds he’d been punished with.

  While sleep would never come, he could rest and try to ease the knot churning his stomach.

  He played back every moment leading up to that kiss, searching for a sign that he’d exerted that sickening influence on her.

  Maybe there was a subtle change in her breathing? Perhaps her eyes were a little glassy? Did she slur her words ?

  No matter how much he did so, he couldn’t seem to find anything. Though that only made him feel sicker. How could he tell if he was manipulating her? His mind twisted knots around itself.

  She wouldn’t agree to that willingly. She had no interest in him. He wasn’t even sure if she liked him. The only explanation must be his power over her, even if he couldn’t find any sign of it.

  She hated Faedemons, perhaps even more so now that she was one. Of course, he couldn't blame her. Her experience with them had been nothing but torment. Faedemons had been terrorizing her people for millennia. Ailan had killed her and didn't even have the decency to do it quickly.

  He raked his nails down his face surly leaving angry red lines down it. He wanted to hunt Ailan down. He wanted to kill him more slowly than he’d killed Corabelle. But he knew he couldn’t win that fight. He was no Battle mage, he never had been and Ailan was older, stronger. Besides, it would be fruitless, if not beyond stupid. Ailan would come back, and he would want the same revenge, revenge he would likely take out on Corabelle.

  Even more enraging was the fact that he couldn’t even blame this all on other Faewdemon’s acts.

  His own maze had stolen her life. She’d been trapped so long she didn’t have much to return to even if he had freed her when he should have. Now she was trapped and immortal in a form she despised.

  He would never be happy, even alright, with the truth, but he understood and was trying to accept it. Of course she would never willingly want him.

  This was all a cruel joke he’d played on himself.

  ----------

  Corabelle was left alone and confused in the atrium, the lingering feeling of the kiss on her lips.

  Why did he leave?

  It couldn’t just be an illness. It was too sudden.

  When he asked to kiss her she agreed almost on instinct. Only when he questioned her agreement, did she fully realize what she’d agreed to. Despite her embarrassment, she didn’t really regret it.

  His question of her seriousness, sealed her resolve. She was curious. What spurred the curiosity was a far more complicated inquiry, but she was curious. Curious enough to agree.

  She didn’t know what her curiosity meant. She had been far too preoccupied with everything that had happened to think about him in any way besides friend. She enjoyed his company. She was happy living in his home. But she hadn’t even considered the possibility of something more.

  Perhaps there were moments of unconscious flirtation, but she had never gotten the impression that he thought of her in any way besides how she thought of him.

  Though it was clear by his reaction to her agreement that she had been grossly misinterpreting things.

  Amidst the chaos of the kiss, she found herself questioning every little thing she had brushed off. Every teasing remark, the little moments of care he’d displayed, his elation over her agreement to stay.

  However, the questions that swam around her mind were left unanswered when he ran off.

  Regardless, of the unanswerable, she felt a strange sense of comfort when he kissed her. It wasn’t all butterflies in her chest like her first kiss had been. It was passionate, but didn’t make her nervous as first kisses had before. Naturally there was some level of nerves, but they melted into familiar comfort before she even had a chance to process them.

  Maybe it was how long they’d been together or how close they’d become during all this.

  Though clearly he didn’t share the same comfort. Had she really scared him that badly? He obviously hadn’t expected an actual response to the turn of phrase. Though, he seemed pleased with the outcome, that is…until he left. She thought he was liking it but maybe the nerves got the better of him. Or maybe he had been caught up in a moment then regretted it as it was happening.

  Or maybe she was overthinking it. Perhaps his adverse reaction really was just a fluke, a sudden illness, and he actually enjoyed the kiss.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Regardless of what the answer might be, she needed to know what it meant. If it meant nothing, that would be fine, but at least she would have an answer.

  She set off for the garden.

  If he was really sick, tea would help. If he wasn’t sick, this would give him a little time alone to think. Hopefully, this would give him enough time to think that he wouldn’t just ignore her.

  She collected the same plants her mother would use for tea when she was young. She didn’t know if they were medical or if they just made her feel better cause she thought they were at the time. She also didn’t know if it would even really matter.

  She boiled the water in the kitchen, pondering the last day. She’d never had much interest in marriage or extended relationships. She was always too busy studying and trying to hunt down a House to teach her. The few romances, if they could even be called that, were short affairs and they both knew that from the start. She never was against the idea of love, but she always had much better things to do.

  Now though, she didn’t know what to think. She did care about him, she was certain of that much. But was she just pursuing him out of boredom? Convenience? Desperation for connection? Or did she actually want to be with him?

  It wasn’t fair to him. There was too much going on, too many things clouding her judgement. She cared about him too much for there to be this much doubt.

  Hopefully all this was, was a moment of passion. She would be perfectly fine calling it a heart of the moment thing and continuing on as friends. However if he thought it was, or worse wanted it to be, something more than that would make this a lot more complicated.

  Then she would really have to sort this out and this could get very messy very fast.

  She anxiously gnawed on a leaf as she tossed the herbs and flowers into the slowly boiling water. It tasted much different than she remembered. This should be pungent, spicy, but it was dull, like chewing parchment. She had hoped it would be more of a distraction. It must not have been ripe when she plucked it.

  She poured the golden, green liquid into the only remaining teacup. The rest were either completely shattered or were cracked before she even attempted to clean them. It looked like their crate had been dropped. Only one was salvageable, with just a noticeable, but not structurally damaging, chip above the handle.

  The cup wafted oddly light fumes up toward her as she made her way to the lab. It must not have been the season for the good herbs.

  Come to think of it, she didn’t know what season they were in now. It had been at least a few months, she knew that much. There was no frost or snow over the maze. It must be well into the new year.

  He didn’t speak to her as she ascended the stairs. She hoped she would talk to him, or at least take the tea if he wasn’t lying about being sick. They would need to discuss this sooner rather than later, but she could wait a day or two to let him recover.

  She knocked on the door, “Zaramir?”

  No response.

  “I brought you some tea.”

  Still nothing.

  “If you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine. At least take it before it gets cold.”

  She waited for a moment. Strangely there were no sounds at all from within the lab. It was strange, the lab was never quiet. She could always hear something from here, if not from the whole home.

  Concerned, she cracked open the door to the lab to find it deserted. She swore he would be here. He was always holed up in here. She’d scarcely seen him elsewhere. He’d gone down this hallway, so where would he have gone?

  Fine. If he was hiding from her, she would just have to find him. Though, He wasn't hiding well. This hallway only had two places he could be. His lab and his unused bedroom.

  “Zaramir!” She shouted, reaching his door. “I need to talk to you!”

  “Please leave me alone.”

  He really did sound sick, so she softened her voice, “I have some tea for you.”

  “Please go away.” he groaned.

  “Just take it. It will make you feel better.”

  After a moment of silence, the door opened. He looked miserable. Pale, even by his standards, his arms wrapped around himself, a far cry from his usually bold demeanor.

  “Thank you, Miss Cora.” He muttered, with a long sigh, taking the teacup from her.

  He didn’t take a drink, but he also didn’t shut the door. Instead he just hovered, staring at the rippling surface of the liquid.

  “Can I get you anything else?” She finally asked, delicately.

  “No, no. I’ll be fine.” He replied, softly. “But can-- can I ask you something?”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “When-- When we… When all that happened… Did it--” His knuckles whitened around the cup. “Did it… feel like I read your mind?”

  Unease at the bizarre question crept through her, “No…. Why? Did you?” She asked carefully.

  He shook his head vigorously “No, I--- I didn’t. At least I don't think I did. Did I say anything to you… telepathically I mean.” He questioned frantically, grip tightening further.

  “No.” She said quickly, becoming increasingly unnerved. She barely had a cohesive thought the entire time, she knew she hadn’t been talking to him telepathically. “Did you hear me say something to you?" She questioned, reaching instinctively for his forehead. “ Do you have a fever?”

  He reeled back from her touch, completely ignoring the hot tea sloshing over his hands, “I don’t believe so.” He answered more slowly, clearly trying to calm his voice. “I’m just… trying to not intrude on your mind. It’s difficult to tell if I've done it subconsciously.”

  She pulled her hand back, clasping both in front of her, “Well, I don’t believe you did. I didn’t hear anything or feel anything strange like the last time it happened.” She answered honestly.

  He stared at her strangely, like she had just told an outrageous lie, “Are you sure?” he finally questioned.

  “Yes.” She replied uncomfortably. “I mean it’s not easy to miss.”

  He released a long, slow breath that seemed to deflate him. The color returned to his cheeks and tension she hadn’t seen melted away. He pressed his head into the doorframe, as he slid the teacup onto the dresser by the door.

  “Are you alright?” She questioned.

  “I’m fine.” He replied. “I’m just relieved.”

  “That you didn’t read my mind?” She questioned, feeling like there was something more to this she couldn’t place.

  He stood upright, “I know how much you hate it.”

  “I’m not upset if you do it by mistake. I don’t like it but I know it’s not your fault.”

  His jaw tightened, “I would still prefer not to do that to you.”

  A very strange, unidentifiable tension tightened in the air around them, “Well I appreciate that.”

  After a moment of silence, she finally broke it, “Are you feeling well enough to talk?”

  He inhaled a sharp breath, “Yes.” He agreed reluctantly as he crossed the room to take a seat on the bed.