We reached the top and his touch disappeared, leaving my skin cold and longing for the comforting warmth.
"Thank you?" The hint of smugness in his voice had a huff escaping my lips.
"Nevermind, I'm going to push you down those stairs."
"You can surely try."
Heat flamed my cheeks. "Goddess, you're infuriating."
"So I've been told."
Before I had a chance to respond, he was pushing open an old wooden door, the hinges groaning as we entered.
The room was bathed in an eerie, silver light. Quickly taking stock of my surroundings, I noticed the curtains had been pulled tightly shut, not even a sliver of daylight breaking through the thick material. A large bed sat in the middle of the room, an empty fireplace to the right, not a single log of wood in sight, and to the left were a few bookcases and a small circular table with two chairs.
A woman sat in the chair facing us, her hair white as freshly fallen snow, her face gaunt and hollowed out to harsh lines and angles. She couldn't have been more than perhaps sixty years of age, but she appeared as if she had already lived three lifetimes. Her green eyes—the exact color of her son's left eye—were vacant, staring listlessly into space as the silver light casted a sickly glow to her skin.
I could see the woman she once was, could see the resemblance that she may have once bore to her son, that age and grief had chiseled away into this husk of a person.
"She doesn't like the sunlight and refuses a fire for light, not even the ones powered by Soli's magic," Delmar explained quietly. I glanced once more at the small orbs that were emitting the silver light into the room. Lua's light—I wondered how he had managed to get the blessed-magic approved in the palace and who could possibly be casting it.
He hung back as I stepped forward cautiously, my voice light as I spoke. "Hello, Mrs. Delmar. My name is Syra, and I'm here to run some assessments for you, is that okay?"
I waited for a moment, yet no response came. Not even the twitch of an eye or the shifting of a muscle. No hint of acknowledgement came from the woman sat before me.
Very well then, perhaps this would be a bit harder than I had originally thought.
Spotting an unopened book upon the table, I asked, “Is that a romance? I love reading those too. There's something rather beautiful about a story of two people falling in love, isn’t there?”
Green eyes settled on me before quickly glancing away, but there still was no hint of clarity in them. Of understanding. I gave her a conspiratorial smile as I moved to the table’s edge, my hand dusting over the cover as I read the title. "A Kiss of Midnight, I must say you have exceptional taste. Have you reached the part where—”
"No spoilers."
The words were hoarse, harsh. Venom laced deep within them. Biting back the smile that wanted to tilt the corners of my mouth at the progress, I hummed thoughtfully. Two words, most definitely a threat, but progress nonetheless.
"Of course not Mrs. Delmar, my apologies. I wouldn't dream of spoiling a good book," I soothed, sitting down in the chair beside her. “What part have you gotten to then?"
A deep furrow settled in the old woman's forehead, her eyes flitting to different objects around the room, a hint of panic settling over her features as she racked her brain. "I do not remember."
"That's perfectly okay," I said, filling the words with confidence and cheer, the finality of it settling her unease.
"Where is Jurian?"
The Kinslayer sucked in a sharp breath at that name, but I kept my gaze firmly on the woman before me, my head tilting as I nodded thoughtfully.
"Jurian? Isn't he away on a trip?" I had learned over the years that it was far better to go along with patients that suffered from this memory loss rather than to force them to face the reality of their situation. It would only aggravate her.
"My husband would never take a trip without letting me know." Her narrowed, wild eyes finally locked on me.
"Of course he wouldn't," I soothed. “Perhaps he just ran to the markets to fetch a new book for you then."
Her gaze slid away, unfocused as she mumbled to herself. It was then that I took a moment to glance back at her son.
He leaned against the doorway, his body stiff as he watched intently, his face giving nothing away. Yet I could see it in the stiff line of his shoulders, in the clenching of his jaw, that he was angry. I’d have to explain this to him, to reassure him that I wasn't simply messing with his mother.
"Have you eaten today, Mrs. Delmar?"
It was as if my question hadn't even been spoken. The woman was once again lost to her own mind. Shifting lightly, I moved to lay a hand gently over her own.
