Quill of Thieves

Chapter 46

Being invisible was a strange experience.

To be fair, it started off surprisingly easy to find and control the threads of Air to mask both himself and Astrid into the night's shadows. Well, compared to the first time Sebastian had tried to force Air to do his bidding because, at least this time, the threads hadn't attempted to suffocate him to death.

Not yet, anyways.

A dull thudding behind his ears was his first warning that his control over Air would only hold out for so much longer.

Sebastian glanced sideways at Astrid who strode beside him with chin raised as if they hadn't just communicated with a book that potentially trapped the soul of an Author. As if said book wasn't currently held beneath her cloak. As if that Monverta was not Sebastian's own father. Her cheeks, however, remained paler than usual, the muscles of her neck strained and taut. When they had first crept from Sebastian's room, she had kept her hand fisted into the dark sleeve of his cloak. Somewhere along the second servants' corridor, her hold on him had slipped down his arm to his wrist where her calloused fingers circled it. He wanted to ask if his magic would only shadow her, too, if their skin touched, but he feared the question would push her away. So, he swallowed his questions and looked in the opposite direction.

Their arms brushed as she guided him off the thick runner that ran down the stone floors and closer to the wall. A guard leaned against the opposite one, speaking with a young maiden who polished a pair of heavy-looking goblets.

"We never even drink out of those," Astrid hissed under her breath. "Such a waste of time."

Sebastian shook his head.

He didn't think it was wise to speak while invisible where others could hear them; as far as Sebastian understood, the shadows wouldn't mask their voices. Then again, he wasn't sure of much these days. It was maddening. A frustrated scowl crossed his lips, but Astrid only huffed and said, "Honestly, Bash, you can whisper to me, at least. If worst comes to worst, those fools will only think they've gone temporarily insane."

"Or they realize magic is afoot, and we're the only ones here who can wield it."

"Afoot—" Astrid's tone alone rolled her eyes for her. "You're panting like a rabid canine. I forbid you from passing out on me."

The servants' corridor grew empty as they neared a dead-end. His breaths were, indeed, growing shallow, small bits of dark stardust floating behind his eyelids in a dashing swirl.

"No." Astrid's palm slid against his own. "Hold on a bit longer, Bash."

It felt as if she had punched him with the way his stomach clenched and retracted. Oh, gods. What if he vomited all over this part of the mountain? How strange would it look for someone to witness bile spewing through the air from an invisible source? Stop thinking about it! Sebastian braced his free hand on the stone wall next to him. The uneven grooves and rough bumps somehow kept him upright. Or at least slowed down his descent into madness.

Elemental burnout.

"You keep calling me Bash." Though he knew the words came from him, they sounded impossibly far away. "I think I like it."

"Well, I would hope so." Astrid's expression flickered into worry. He swore she shook him slightly. "Abel calls you it often enough, though it would be understandable if you hated the sound of it on her husky street voice."

Sebastian promised himself he would have risen to Abel's defense if he hadn't wanted to so desperately collapse onto the uneven ground and sleep for days, curled up in a corner right there in the servants' hallway. All things considered, at least it would be clean. Astrid's hand tightened around his and pulled with more urgency towards the dead-end.