(Leo)
***
I was startled when Sinclair promptly dragged me out of the room, but my heart gave a vague flutter that I had tried to suppress for a while as it whisked my head down a line of illogical reasoning. How unfortunate that the only time I let my guard down for it was when two aristocrats were missing.
The rough action seemed unlike Sinclair, but I should have remembered they had the grace of a newborn puppy. (Ah, the numerous wrecked briefings.)
I followed them along the halls, not even asking why they ran away so fast because I couldn't comprehend anything. They dashed aimlessly for a while before a space caught their eye a floor below Inei's room.
That was the most walking I had done in years, I thought.
Awkwardly, they changed our direction at a sharp angle, and they tightened their grip on my wrist to direct me into the opening—not bothering to take advantage of the weak excuse for privacy the curtains provided.
I was slammed into a wall. I did not know the walkway into the room would be quite as long as it was, and presumably, they didn't either until I fell onto my behind. The tingle on my wings returned, making me grow more suspicious while I attempted to ignore it.
They leaned down to look at me. The intensity I perceived in their gaze was uncomfortable momentarily as it cornered me, and I shifted to alleviate what little of the tension I could.
They shook their head and laughed. That sweet expression and sound eased my tense body.
"Sorry. I was thinking for a moment."
They rubbed my hair, and I averted my eyes to stare at the trim of the floor while puffing a cheek out.
"I have something to ask, but I wasn't sure how. Now I am." They tilted their head. "Pardon my rashness as well. I needed out of that room quickly. The sound of arguing was getting overwhelming, and I figured the king would continue it with his advisors."
"It's fine. Don't worry about all of it. That place is too messy for me, and I *enjoy* the drama," I joked as they took their hand away from my hair, yet I vaguely missed the touch. "Though, I would have liked it if you had a more direct course of action besides just finding an open room."
They frowned at my poor attempt at humor. "Sorry, again."
"No, no."
As they glanced back with a pout and shiny eyes that were dulled like mutilated gemstones, I felt bad that they misunderstood me. I placed a hand on their shoulder to massage it gently, and they peered up at me.
"I was only trying to provide some comic relief. I'm not good with tense conversations. I bet you know that."
They nodded, their spirit becoming better. Glad the misunderstanding cleared quickly, I grinned back.
"Anyways, what did you want to ask me? Is there any reason why we came here and not one of our usual meeting spots?"
Instead of crouching down, they sat on the opposite side of the hallway from me. They hugged their knees to their chest, but their bare feet still brushed against my toes inside the cramped space, leaving me with an unambiguously tender feeling. When Sinclair was settled, they spoke again.
"Yes, yes." They gulped. "I'll start by saying I trust you a lot."
I smiled, that stupid elation trying to overtake my expression again. "As do I. More than most I have met."
I wondered what point they aimed to convey, but they didn't seem to be the type to make a big deal out of nothing.
Their eyes widened to a liquid brown, and they placed their chin on their knees, grinning. "Good. I just didn't want you to dismiss or yell at me like the aristocrats might consider doing."
"I can't imagine anything horrific or irritating enough coming from your mouth that I'd have to resort to that."
With an airy chuckle, they nodded. "I'm glad." They swallowed again, throat bobbing. "See… Ah, I forgot where to start again, prefaces and all." Shaking around their head and letting their hair bounce, they sighed.
"Just begin anywhere you'd like," I said comfortingly. "You'll say everything you want to eventually if you keep talking."
It seemed they had some sort of scandalous secret to tell. On top of the fact I always clung to any of their words like gospel, the added equivocation of their phrasing was thrilling.
Unfortunately for them, I was nosier than a group—no, a classroom—of spoiled schoolchildren, and I trembled, anxious to hear their actual question. I supposed some beating around the bush wouldn't drive my heart rate up to the point of having palpitations, though it could have reached the brink of them if Sinclair took too long.
"Yesterday, when we were walking out of the chamber… did anything seem strange to you?"
There it was—quicker than I would have guessed. That was almost a relief.
A harsher tingle on the tip of my wings brought my memory back to when I pulled Akiyoshi up.
"Yes, actually, but I didn't want to talk about it either," I replied with uncertainty.
"How so?" they asked so fast that they almost cut me off. They seemed eager to hear my recollections, and I was more than happy to provide whatever information I could.
My face became tense as I contemplated how I wanted to tell them, though. I started slowly, unsure of my own words for the first time in a while. I did not wish to offend them.
"Hm. I know you're a fairy, but you lack wings, which is why I don't know how to explain this to you." I positioned a hand under my chin as they cocked their head to the side. "I hope this doesn't upset you—actually, tell me if it does so that I don't say it again—but have you heard of that strange sensation a fairy gets when there's magic around that they can't see?" I pinched my fingers together, giving a strained expression. "It's an annoying feeling in the tip of the wings like an itch you can't scratch."
They promptly nodded but looked away in an almost shameful manner. "I once had wings. I know intimately what you're describing, Lele."
The nickname made me grin, but their statement sent questions rolling through my mind like a tidal wave. However curious I was, though, I had to save my inquiries as to why they were wingless for a more appropriate time. It was like asking someone how they lost any other body part—perhaps even more private than that—and I was not owed an explanation in any way.
Instead, I closed the distance to gently hug them. "Sorry. There was no other way for me to—"
"I am well aware," they stated in my ear, not rudely at all but a little blunt. "You can carry on with your anecdote when you want. That doesn't bother me enough to be a concern."
I backed away from them. Then, I rested my hands on their biceps as Sinclair's fingertips grazed my knees on the way to their own legs, though the touch still lingered.
"I don't have much else to say. I just felt weird when I walked out with you and Akiyoshi yesterday, but it could have definitely been from King Inei."
"I also felt like that," Sinclair stated directly, matching their gaze with mine.
My palms grew a bit sweaty. "But you don't have wings?" I raised an eyebrow at them.
They closed their eyes, inhaling and exhaling before reopening their lids. "I felt it on my back instead. I felt it in my heart that something was odd when I saw a misshapen shadow." A palm hovered over their chest. "But there was something stranger than that."
I remained silent as I urged them to continue their story with soothing caresses to their arms.
"Last night, I had a dream about that shadow following me. It threw me against a wall and held me by the neck." They breathed heavily. "It begged me for an answer to a question it didn't even ask, but the voice sounded familiar. I can't place where I heard it, though." The shiny curiosity in their irises turned into a gleaming terror. "I woke up screaming in my chariot and startled my horses so badly that they had to take a detour from our original delivery. I was so scared… I was just…"
As their sentence trailed off into gibberish, I squeezed their bicep. The muscles tensed up and shook uncontrollably. I took Sinclair into my embrace again, full of intense panic that clouded my judgment and jumbled my boundaries. My left hand gripped their curly chestnut hair as they leaned their head into the intersection of my neck and shoulder.
To have conjured the correct words to say… I wished I had that form of sorcery.
"Please, I know it's terrifying, but I'm right here. That shadow isn't here, okay? It's not here. It's only me," I cooed; however, I didn't know how calming my whiny voice was.
When liquid seeped onto my shoulder, I rubbed their back, hoping the touch would ground them. I wasn't used to dealing with bouts of anxiety and sadness, but I tried my best regardless of how clumsy the attempt was.
While I held them near me, Sinclair babbled on about something I could not understand.
After a few minutes, their breathing came under their control as they moved slower, and their tears halted after drenching part of my sleeve (though it was hard to tell that was the case with the light gray pigment—save for the chilliness). They slowly wrapped their arms around me, the indention of a smile forming in my shoulder from their plush lips.
"Thank you," they whispered and retreated to the wall. "I'm not accustomed to having someone comfort me. I used to not see any of my friends too often." They chuckled sadly. "Honestly, I don't have many friends. That's probably not surprising at all."
I took my thumb to wipe a glimmering trail from their face gently, rubbing the wet pad on my shirt. What more could a drop add to an ocean?
"I think I'd cry, too, if I couldn't watch the people in this castle every day. In fact, I think I would just cease to exist."
Although I smiled, I was dead serious, but it made them laugh for some reason. Seeing them chuckle due to anything in this situation was a good sign, though, even if it wasn't the intended reaction.
"Try living my life."
I giggled and made a sarcastic sort of frown while holding up a hand. "No, thanks! Try again tomorrow for a chance at winning the jackpot."
They laughed again with me—falling into a temporary bliss—and when the jovial mood calmed down, I decided to ask them something more consequential. I held their left hand to keep them from panicking again, massaging the soft area between the thumb and index finger.
"Answer me honestly: Do you think that could be from the magic I've let the kings use? The one where people go to the other kingdom when they're asleep. Maybe it's a side effect of that?" I gave a look of concern and shook my head around. "If you think it is, I'll tell them to stop immediately. I don't give a damn about their petty dispute anymore if it's hurting you—"
"No, Leo. It's not that."
"Then, what are you insinuating it is?" I huffed.
Sinclair sighed. "I mean to say I think there's another source of magic. It feels completely different. It's stronger than that."
"It can't be." I backed my head away and almost smacked it against the brick. "That's impossible."
"Why not?" they asked, tilting their head cutely as a solemn expression painted their face.
"There's no other place the magic could come from."
"You felt it, too," they deadpanned. "Don't try to rationalize it to the point you only speak lies."
"Then, I don't know, Sini." My free hand curled into a fist. "I don't know. I don't have the answer. There's only dirt if you dig in my brain for this—no gold."
They nodded with small shakes of their head, sadly replying, "Nor do I."
"We'll figure it out together."
I spoke to them with a hopeful tinge to my voice, grasping their hand slightly harder than before. I had nothing better to promise them, but I didn't doubt the story they told me if it evoked such a visceral reaction from them.
They reciprocated the gesture until it felt as if our fingers were melded together like iron.
"Yes," they agreed. "Thank you for that."
I nodded. Their focus then shifted to something else as if they tried to avoid any further discussion of the topic.
I silently conceded that this was a good idea. I was not sure if I emotionally could handle them breaking down once more, but like a belt stocked full of tools, I attempted to equip myself to be prepared in the event they did. If anything, I wanted to see them smile.
"I should go check on King Inei, I think," they said as if they needed to check an item off a market list.
"In this state?" I remarked, "I think I'd send you home if I were him."
They shrugged. "He has it worse than me with his daughter gone and whatnot."
"You both have it bad," I refuted.
There was no reason to pit misfortune versus misfortune, and I worried about Sinclair.
I pointed my free hand upwards and said animatedly, "How about this? I'll join you."
They contemplated my offer.
"Sure," they mused. "Just… don't mention this to anyone. Keep it a secret for now."
Letting go at last, I held out a pinky towards them. "Only the best kind of promise for something like this!"
They laughed. However, they seemed confused at the offering of a finger and proceeded to wrap their free hand around it as if we awkwardly shook hands—much to my amusement.
"No, Sini."
I chuckled. I removed my other hand from theirs and repositioned their fingers so that the pinkies crossed and fastened around each other.
"This is how you do it. I've seen people do it all the time outside the castle."
They giggled, an embarrassed blush covering their face. "Ah. So this is what those kingdom children do behind the school buildings."
"Yeah." It certainly wasn't the only thing those rascals did, but I decided against saying that. I tightened my pinky around Sinclair's before loosening it to let go. "Let's check on Inei now."
They stopped me from moving my arm and instead laced their fingers around mine, differently from the angled grip we had before. "Sure. But can we keep holding hands, please? I still feel anxious, and I don't want to alarm the king. I need something to keep me calm."
I met their concerned eyes and subsequently nodded. "That's fine. Always let me know if there's anything that makes you feel better, and I'll do my best."
I gave them the most genuine grin I had shown anyone in quite some time, eyes folding into crescents and thin wrinkles forming like river deltas around them. While I stood up, Sinclair used the grip to help them snap to their feet.
As we exited the corridor, something saccharine welled up inside me. It was that same feeling from before that I would not admit to having. I begged my heart not to do that to me, knowing what happened numerous years ago.
When the sweetness melted into a searing, burning sensation, there was nothing left besides a dark sense of apathy when it cooled. I was far too familiar with that even after so long, so I kept begging—begging for it to leave me alone so that I may avoid that fate.
When I couldn't listen to my heart, I asked myself as I looked at Sinclair's aloof smile and felt the gentle warmth emanating from their fingertips: Would I give myself another chance? The intoxicatingly lovely aura dancing around the messenger beside me almost convinced me I would.
Almost, I told myself. Almost my walls came tumbling down.
At the very least, I admitted, I wanted to see them happy and smiling. I wanted to touch their heart to let them know that they weren't alone—that there was someone beside them who selfishly wanted them by his side as well. There was an inherent bitterness, too, in always being the watchman and never the spectacle in anyone's eyes.
But the shadow that followed Sinclair's dreams trailed behind me, too, transforming my wings into a vessel of unpleasant sensations that I tried to ignore with an equal amount of willpower.