Quite suddenly, they disappeared.
Twenty
THEY’D SHIFTED THROUGH SPACE SOsmoothly that Alizeh hadn’t even realized they’d left the chaotic avenue until they materialized, a moment later, in the middle of an expansive flower field. Neither had she realized she was silently crying, not until she felt the wet of Cyrus’s sweater under her cheek.
With painstaking care he let go of her, drawing away in cautious movements before helping her to the ground, where she sank with a grateful sigh for only a moment before tipping slowly over. She curled onto her side, crushing a bed of tulips under her body, and experiencing all the while a physical reaction she didn’t understand. Her limbs felt dead and leaden. She was colder than she’d ever been, more exhausted than she’d ever felt, and her head seemed impossible to hold upright. Her numb fingers could hardly manage to unclasp the heavy collar from around her neck, which felt now like it was choking her, and with a final, exhausting effort, she tore it away from her throat and tossed the glittering piece to the ground.
She took a deep, shaky breath.
Alizeh could still feel those people—she still heard their voices—her lungs compressing under the weight of their hopes, her ribs cracking under the heft of their dreams.
She’d never longed for her parents more than she did in that very moment, wishing for guidance, for someone to tell her that she was strong enough, that she was worthy. That she should rise, now, more than ever.
That she would not fail if she did.
“Alizeh,” he whispered. “You’re scaring me.”
She heard his familiar voice and opened her eyes at the sound, searching for his face. Instead, everywhere she looked were flowers. She smelled grass, the welcome scent of overturned soil, the freshness of dew. Her wet cheek was pressed against the velvet petals of many tulips; a trio of bees were buzzing near her nose. She felt she might live here forever, might rest her weary head upon this flower bed and pretend, for a moment, that she was still a child.
“Please,” said Cyrus. “At least tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said, sniffing softly. She closed her eyes again, let the flowers dry her tears.
“What do you mean?” he said, alarmed. “Why impossible?”
“Well,” she said, “because I’ve recently deduced that you’re quite charmingly pathetic.”
He sighed. “Really? You’re choosing this moment to insult me?”
“And I have a theory,” she went on, “that if I were badly wounded, you would help me. True or false?”
He went silent.
He was silent so long Alizeh had time enough to watch a drop of dew drip off a glossy green leaf.
“True or false, Cyrus?”
She heard his uneven exhale, the raw edge to his voicewhen he said, irritably, “False.”
The nosta flashed cold.
“Liar,” she whispered.
“I don’t care for this game.”
“Where are we, by the way?” she asked, her eyes landing on a particularly purple tulip, the color so vivid it seemed imagined.
In response, Cyrus did not say what was obvious, which was that they were in a flower field; instead he answered the more specific question she’d failed to ask, and said simply, “Somewhere safe.”
“Safe?” she said, managing a small smile. “Even with you here?”
It was a moment before he said, quietly, “Yes.”
The nosta warmed.
Alizeh still hadn’t seen him. Shecouldn’tsee him. The tulips were tall, her head was heavy, and she felt no inclination to move. She wondered whether Cyrus was sitting just to the side of her, and tried to picture him in his austere black clothes, perched in a sea of flowers, his long legs pulled up to his chest like a boy. His hair, she thought, would look very nice against all the green.
“And is there magic here, too?” she asked.
