Chapter 59 Growing Closer

Chapter 59 Growing Closer
They found three assassins in Davorin's chambers and Isleen unconscious in a servant's passage with a head wound that hadn't come from the guards.

Someone had double-crossed her. Or she'd double-crossed them. Either way, Varian hauled her to the cells while Davorin interrogated the would-be killers until Thessaly had to leave the room because watching him work was equal parts terrifying and impressive.

By dawn, they had answers. Malachi's plan had been simple: Isleen creates a distraction, assassins kill Davorin, chaos ensues. Except Isleen had apparently changed her mind halfway through and tried to stop it, which earned her a blow to the skull from her own allies.

Thessaly didn't know what to do with that information. Didn't know if it made things better or worse that her best friend had betrayed her and then tried to un-betray her.
She was too tired to figure it out.

"You should sleep," Davorin said, finding her in the library three hours later.

"Can't. Brain won't shut off." Thessaly closed the book she hadn't been reading. "You?"

"Same."
He sat across from her, and they didn't talk about the assassination attempt or Isleen or any of it. Just existed in the same space, too wrung out for words.

That's how it started.

The next night, Thessaly couldn't sleep again. Found herself wandering to the library at midnight because at least there she could pretend to be doing something productive. Davorin was already there, reading by candlelight.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked.

He looked up. "I don't sleep much anymore. The Void makes sure of that."

She should have left. Should have gone back to her room and let him have his space. Instead she sat down and asked what he was reading.

History of the northern territories. Boring political stuff that he freely admitted was putting him to sleep better than any sleeping draft.

"Tell me something not boring then," Thessaly said. "Something from before."

"Before what?"

"Before all of this. Before the curse. What were you like?"

Davorin set the book down, considering. "Reckless. My father used to say I'd give him a heart attack before I turned twenty."

"What did you do that was so reckless?"

"Snuck out of the palace to explore the city. Convinced my best friend to go cliff diving even though neither of us could swim very well. Started a fire in the council chambers trying to impress a girl with magic I barely knew how to control."

Thessaly laughed at the image of controlled, careful Davorin setting things on fire to impress someone. "Did it work?"

"She married my brother, so no."

"Ouch."

"It's fine. I was seventeen and an idiot." He smiled, just a little. "What about you? What were you like before you came here?"

Thessaly thought about the girl she'd been in Lumenvale. "Invisible, mostly. My mother pretended I didn't exist because looking at me reminded her of everything wrong with the family line. So I spent a lot of time in the old parts of the palace where nobody went."

"Doing what?"

"Reading, mainly. Isleen would steal books from the library for me." Her voice caught on the name. "We'd hide in this abandoned tower room and she'd read out loud because I was slower at it. Made up voices for all the characters."

Davorin's expression softened. "She cared about you."

"I thought she did. Now I don't know what was real and what was just... I don't know." Thessaly pulled her knees up. "Tell me more about before. I want to hear about a version of you that wasn't drowning in guilt."

So he did. Told her about sneaking onto the training grounds to watch the soldiers practice because his father said he was too young. About the time he convinced the kitchen staff he had permission to take an entire cake to his room. About racing his brothers through the palace halls at night when they were supposed to be sleeping.

His voice changed when he talked about it. Got lighter. Almost younger.

"You miss it," Thessaly said.

"Every day." He was quiet for a moment. "The curse took that version of me and buried it so deep I forget he existed sometimes."

"He's still there though. I can see him."

Davorin looked at her like she'd said something profound instead of obvious. "Can you?"

"You made a joke yesterday about Varian's terrible taste in poetry. That was the old you, I think."

"Varian's taste in poetry is objectively terrible."

"See? There he is again."

Something in Davorin's face cracked, and he almost smiled. Not the careful political smile he used in court, but something real.

The next night, Thessaly went to the library on purpose.

Davorin was already there, two cups of tea waiting.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, like it was a question and not the start of a routine they were both pretending wasn't happening.

"Brain won't shut off," she said, taking the same chair as before.