Octavia hissed in a breath as a sharp pain lanced through her gut and batted away the head medic's prodding fingers. The tea and cookies in her stomach turned over and bile rose into her throat, but she swallowed to keep her food down.

Just as she'd suspected, the moment she tried to do anything but lie in bed, fatigue had trampled over her like a runaway horse. Her hands refused to stop shaking, and sitting up left her winded.

Annabelle tutted. "Don't be that way, I'm only trying to help you." She was the same bubbly bundle of youth that had treated Octavia the first time she'd landed in the infirmary. She'd bustled into the room with a bag filled with heinous concoctions and forced Octavia to drink nearly all of them.

Now she poked and prodded as medics liked to do, checking over all Octavia's bumps bruises and scars. "Your wrists are healing up nicely. They may itch a bit, though. The pain medication should start working soon." She snapped her bag shut and hoisted it on her shoulder. "I'll be back this evening with more." With that, she skipped from the room, like a child with a basket full of sweets.

Octavia grimaced and gazed out the window, measuring the distance from her room on the second floor to the ground. Perhaps she could make a run for it, hideaway in her old residence. If the netherborne hadn't destroyed it.

A knock sounded on the door, and Claud poked his head in. "The Council is here." He gave Octavia a smile and nod. "Good to have you back. We'll talk later. Pilar is breathing down my neck about fixing her jacket."

Lady Beatrix brushed last him with Levi, but no Diann. Perhaps the Councilwoman had been eaten by the netherborne. Good riddance.

"Oh, thank the gods you're all right, Octavia," Beatrix said. "How are you feeling?"

Octavia leaned back into the pillows and closed her eyes. She couldn't look into the faces of those who'd condemned her to death. "I'll make this quick and simple. Do you want my help or not?"

"Of course. Without it, Jaredeth will ruin us." Sicero reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Is that the only reason I'm not sitting in a cell right now?" A frigid silence fell over the room along the rustle of clothing as the councilors shifted on their feet.

"Let's not mince words here. You all wanted me dead. And now that that plan has backfired, I'm treated to smiles and niceties. Hot breakfast, a warm bed." She looked at Sicero. "Empty apologies."

"Octavia I..." Sicero's words trailed off when she shook her head at him.

"Blame me," Beatrix said. She strode forward shoulders squared and head up, but her steps faltered as she looked Octavia in the eye, and she cast her gaze to the ground instead. "This was my doing. It was my idea to throw you at Jaredeth's feet. I thought it was in the best interest of the village at the time. And I was wrong. If you want to yell at someone, beat someone up." She held her hands out, palms up. "I'm it."

Octavia shook her head. There would be plenty of time to lament and point fingers later. For now, she needed to know if she was spending the winter in Hedalda or in Avaly. "I'll make this simple. Do you want me to rid Hedalda of the netherborne or not? If the answer is yes, I'll need your full cooperation in that endeavour. If not, then I'll leave, and you'll never see or hear from me again. As for Jaredeth, I have a way of contacting him."

"You want to help us even after the way you were treated?" Beatrix asked, her voice soft and an octave higher than usual.

Octavia scoffed. "I don't care about any of you." The cold edge in her voice surprised even her, but the words had slipped out before she could think better. Being ruthless was Quintus' and Jaredeth's shtick. She was the passive lover of mankind who tried to help everyone. She didn't want the bitterness to turn her into the monster everyone thought she was. But she wouldn't take the words back either. "I'm not leaving my students here to die."

The Head Councilor nodded and turned to her colleagues. "Then we'll take a vote. Sicero, Levi?"

"My vote is yes," The High Priest said.

Levi glanced at Octavia before nodding. "Mine is as well."

"Good." The Chief Councilor clasped her hands together like a beggar. "Octavia, how can we assist you?"

She scratched the scabbing skin around her wrist while she got her thoughts in order. "I'm going to need a bit more time to recover. In the meantime, you all need to get a head start on finding the nightwalker."

Sicero swore, his eyes widening. "Nightwalker? There's a nightwalker here? In the village?"

"Indeed. It's the reason the netherborne keep breaching the barrier. If we can get rid of it, then eradicating the scourge will be as simple as a song."

"I see. I'll arrange a meeting and get the village involved. With a combined effort, we should be able to weed it out."

Octavia doubted that would happen, but she didn't want to crush the hope shining in Beatrix's eye. It was her hope that by getting the village involved it would be easier to weed out the person who allowed the nightwalker in. She elected to withhold that little detail from the Council.

The villagers may grow suspicious or hostile towards one another if they knew there was a traitor among them. Accusations and insults would be slung around and they'd become divided. Which was the opposite of what they needed now. If Hedalda was to survive, they needed to be together. Work toether.

"About Jaredeth," Octavia continued. "I'll send a song on the wind to Quintus. It should be enough to let him know I'm not dead. And stay Jaredeth's hand. I'll still send a correspondence for surety."

"What do you need?" Sicero asked. "Your flute? I had your belongings moved here from the Hall. They're in the other room."

"First, I'll need a bath, better clothes and something substantial to build my strength. Then, I'll need a high place facing west from which to play."

The High Priest nodded. "Consider it done."

***

An hour later, Octavia sat clean and clothed on her bed. Marin had brought up porridge for her and more tea—the dregs of which sat on a tray on the table. Her reflection in its silver surface showed how much of a toll Hedalda had taken on her. Her cheeks had sunken and the characteristic brightness in her eyes had dulled, and not just from the bags hanging under them. She shifted, noting that the dress she'd thrown on had more space in it than she remembered.

She poured herself the last bit of tea and took a sip, the hot liquid washing away the edge of fatigue that had turned her bones to lead. She'd need all the strength she could get to climb the bell tower, and then some to send a song on the wind all the way to Avaly.

As she downed the rest of the tea, Sicero appeared in the doorway. "Whenever you're ready."

She rubbed a hand over her chest to ensure she had her necklace before joining him in the hall.

They walked in silence, past the foyer and into the eastern part of the Cathedral. A few times, Octavia peeked up and caught him staring at her with a million unspoken words dancing in his eyes. She kept her composure, despite wanting him to speak those words, to hear the beautiful, musical lilt of his voice.

They stopped at a door near the rear of the building, and it took every bit of her resolve not to lean against the wall for support. Sicero produced a key from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing a winding stairwell beyond.

Octavia swallowed the groan bubbling up her throat and mounted the steps. One foot in front of the other, she told herself. She put all her focus in to the repetitive movement rather than the burning ache in her chest and the heaviness in her legs. Still, as their journey wore on, each step was like climbing a mountain. Sweat beaded her forehead and dark clouds wavered at the edge of her vision.

They made it past the halfway point when the fatigue dragged her to her knees. "Wait," she said between ragged breaths. She leaned against the wall, swallowing over and over to quench the dryness in her throat.

"Are you all right?" Sicero asked, kneeling, so they were eye-level. His gaze roamed over her as he checked for injuries. "Here, let me—"

She flinched away from him. "I'm fine. I just need a moment to catch my breath." She didn't miss the flicker of hurt in his eyes and he inched back, putting an arm's length of space between them.

"As you wish." He sat beside her, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee, and dragged a hand through his curls. "You know, even when you were locked up in that cell, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Octavia kept her gaze on the steps as his words crashed into her like a rogue wave. She didn't want to be swept up in those feelings again, but she supposed she was reaping the fruits of her selfishness. Just as he was reaping the fruits of his ignorance.

"I didn't want you to die Octavia," Sicero continued. "Even after knowing who you were, I cared about you. I still do."

"You care about Octavia, the music teacher, but what about Octavia, the necromancer, the Night-Blooming Rose? Do you care about her, or is she just a means to an end?"

Sicero turned to face her fully, his eyes burning into hers. "I care about Octavia the educator, the wanderer, the maestro, the necromancer and the Night-Blooming Rose. And I understand that things may never be the same between us, that you may never find it in your heart to forgive me. But can I at least help you up the rest of these steps?"

She didn't sense any deception in his words, but a quiver of apprehension settled in her gut. Was she going to give him the opportunity to hurt her again? Or be cordial and reserve any feelings that went beyond casual respect? Her heart told her to be affable but her mind told her to be wary. "Fine." She placed her hand in his and they stood together. A small yelp escaped her lips as he scooped her off the ground and held her close to his chest.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Sicero asked, gazing down at her with his brows drawn tight.

Octavia swallowed, her face growing hot. "N-no. This just isn't the type of help I was expecting." She clasped her hands together, not sure what else to do with them. Putting them around his neck seemed to forward.

"I see." He started up the steps at a brisk pace. "Well, I couldn't let you walk in your condition. And we're not too far from the top."

She stayed quiet, too distracted by the heady scent of his cologne and the warmth radiating from his body. From her vantage point the delicate lines of his jaw were more prominent, along with the bow of his lips and the sleek lines of his neck. He didn't have the square chiseled features that most women admired, or the round boyish features that made some men look younger than they were. Sicero was somewhere in between with a look all his own.

"This is it," he said, cutting into her thoughts. He set her down on the variegated tile.

The bronze bell that dominated the room was covered in inscriptions in the same text the priests employed in battle. There were bells twice its size at the Necromancy Archives. She was ailing to wager they were older too. Octavia trailed her hand along the bell's lip as she stepped past. A blast of air from the balcony hit her in the face.

"Give me some space," she told Sicero. She sucked in a lungful of the cold air and hummed the bell whip's tune. The weapon materialized in her hands, curled in on itself. Using it would sap what little strength she had, but it was the only way to let Quintus know she was all right.

Octavia flicked a tiny rose bud near the whip's tip and it released a pitchy chime even sweeter than her bell's. The other buds and flowers followed suit, chiming in tandem and filling the winter air with a song older than the scourge.

It jumped on the wind, guided by her power and shot into the western sky. She lost herself in the cadence of the notes, the smooth legato, the rising crescendo. It reminded her of spring, when all things were reborn after being choked by winter. Fresh green leaves, flowers blooming in the warmth of the sun, droplets of dew coating the grass in the morning.

"That was beautiful," Sicero said when the last noted faded.

"Thank you." Octavia let the bell whip go and clasped her hands together so he wouldn't see them shaking. "I should return to my room, to rest." Before I fall over, she added in her head.

"Of course." He cast his gaze to the floor, his shyness returning. "Would you like me to carry you again?"

Yes. "No." Octavia walked by him and started down the steps. On one hand, recent events had her second-guessing her feelings. On the other, she couldn't forget the tender moments they'd shared, even though said moments were darkened by recent events. She needed time, by herself, to sort through her feelings.

They made the long walk back to her room in silence. It wasn't nearly as excruciating as the trip up the bell tower and made more bearable by their brief detour to the kitchen to get some water and steal a few cookies.

"I was thinking," Sicero said as they stopped in front of her room. "We never got to have our date."

Octavia leaned against the door."I don't think that would be wise... considering." She knew he was trying to make amends, but she had to protect herself. Protect her heart.

"I understand. Could we at least side aside some time to talk? I'd like to know more about what happened that night. The truth," he tacked on when she remained silent.

She frowned. People loved to beg for the truth, then reject it when it didn't align with their agenda. But Sicero seemed sincere. She would humour him but keep her expectations low. "We can do that."