The Shiver Storm - (23 parts) - COMPLETE.

[starpollen]

God, your descriptions of their sneezy expressions just KILL me...

Then he waited, letting his mouth teeter uselessly under his forefinger as he waited. "Hehh'heh!" he began, bending forward to draw it. "Tehkksh'iooo!" Gentle spray swam over his knuckle, and he sniffed it back, cheeks rosy and teary eyes downcast.

"Hahk-ktschh! Ha-tssh! TSHH!" He looked almost amusing when he sneezed, as if all his pores shifted and moved rows in a massive game of musical chairs.

She watched his eyes dancing dangerously together, his brows quivering in a desire to put the tickle to rest. Recognizing he could hardly listen to her, she put her sleeved arm up against his nose.

So eloquent! Highly creative phrasing that just makes me tingly all over! I'm going to be so sad when this story is finished...

[glowstick03]

I'm not sure if I've ever commented on this story, but I've been following it from the beginning, and it is AMAZING! Though I'm sad it's beginning to come to a conclusion, I'm sure it will be a perfectly satisfying ending...you write sooo well! Not just the sneezing stuff, but everything!

[Aprilcot]

Please continue!!!!!

This is so amazing!

I just hope Kerr wakes up...

[obsessed]

THEY HAVE TO LEAVE HIM?!?

... gosh dang it, woman what are you doing?!

[dumpling]

I love this story...it's...so adorable

[PaperThings]

Haha, yes, I'm updating twice in two days. I'm getting a little over-enthusiastic, now that the story is so close to the end . Hopefully I'll be able to keep it up, and not lose steam before the last three(ish) chapters. Thank you so much to all of the people who commented on last chapter! Without you guys, I would not want to keep posting chapters .

Part 20

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Amalie did not say a word to Cadogan during their walk back. The moment he'd spoken, in fact, she'd stood and began to walk away. She did not want to hear his explanation, did not want him to try and persuade her; had he not been so upset a moment ago, she probably would have attempted the first slap of her life.

How dare he? She couldn't even begin to process his suggestion, and her ears popped painfully when she tried. He'd just lost his sister! How could he possibly think she would willingly give up hers? While he was sick and defenseless, no less. She was shaking by the time they returned, cold from the rain and so angry she couldn't think.

"You're back!" Martin rushed to greet her, a sloppy smile on his face. He looked entirely unwell, and if it had been another moment, Amalie would have fussed over him. "And Cadogan, good." His smile widened. "Is everything okay?" He'd directed the question at the boy, referring to the fire, but Amalie answered instead.

"No, it's not," she said simply. Without another look at either of them, she went to Kerr's side and took his hand, stroking the back of his palm. When they were young, and the boys had picked on her in school for wetting her pants, he had come to her defense. When she'd wanted to learn an instrument, he'd spent hours searching for a teacher for her. When their parents died, he'd assumed responsibility of her when he could have run off and lived a normal life. His visions were in his sleep - no one would ever know, and he would have always been safe. But he chose to stay with her. It was more than the fact that they were related by flesh and blood: he was her protector, her one constant. It hurt her enough to see him this way, unconscious and weak; did Cadogan even understand how deeply his idea had cut her?

She saw the boys muttering by the door and assumed that Cadogan was explaining. To her annoyance, Martin did not seem to be disagreeing. In fact, he was nodding excitedly. Well, maybe they weren't talking about that at all. She rested her head on her fist, happy to have an entirely cloudless mind for the moment.

"Amalie?" Martin came up beside her, and she decided that his nearness counted as a proffered shoulder. She leaned her head on it and nodded, for once ignoring the puffiness of his eyes. She was too tired; the day had been too long, and she could not get away from the poisonous tingle of earlier's flames.

"What?" she asked, when it was clear he wanted an answer. Somewhere across the shed, Cadogan lit a candle. Where had they gotten candles? had Martin found them in here?

He stopped to touch her hair and frowned, "You're all wet!" He sounded nearly angry with her.

"Well, it's raining, Martin."

"Yes, but you'll get sick." He bundled back her hair and squeezed the moisture onto the floor; Amalie had to laugh.

"Martin..." she could not continue, it was too amusing. Shaking her head, she clapped a hand over her mouth to cover up her giggles. "Never mind," she said, the momentary joy passing. "I'll be fine, you know I'll be fine."

His head tilted sideways, as if appraising her. "You're right," he whispered. Their tones were matching now: even sets of marbles, skidding side by side in a slow-moving game. Amalie liked the sound of their voices against the rain. "You're always fine," he repeated, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "And I'm glad." They shared a smile, and he used her restored amicability as a window of opportunity.

"You know... Amalie, we wouldn't be leaving Kerr here." Outrage puddled under her tongue, and she opened her mouth to protest. "No, please," he said, "let me finish."

Across the room, Cadogan doubled into his lap with a chain of spurted sneezes. "Hehhkchh! TCHH! Huh-ktchuu!" Amalie knew the dust was probably getting to him, but found she didn't care.

"Bless you," Martin called. Cadogan nodded his thanks across the room, and Amalie fumed silently. When had they become such good friends? In the last five minutes?

"Like I was saying," Martin continued, "we wouldn't leave him. Cadogan thinks we could be there in about two days, so only two of us would have to go, and then we could come back with hel- "

"No!" Amalie shrieked, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. "Please Martin," she begged him, clutching his hand with unnecessary force. "I need you to understand. We can't be separated again. If we are... I can just tell. Something bad will happen."

He ignored her feelings just this once, and pulled away, wanting to make his point. "Amalie. Listen to me. I - I didn't want to tell you but... whi - " He stopped, the sudden roughness in his face melting away. His body swiveled dramatically around, southeast of her, and his hands came round his nose. Lather, rinse, repeat, he thought sadly. "Huhshoo! Eishoo! Hehhh..." Renegade puffs of his breath came through his logged fingers, impatient and in pain. The sneeze stalled and stalled, unhappy with him for one reason or another. Finally, he gave a little shake of his shoulders, up and down, hoping to dislodge it. No such luck, though, and Amalie finally took pity on him. She reached up pricked the very bridge of his nose with her nail, watching with a mix of fascination and empathy as his eyes welled up. His lashes clipped the skin of his cheeks and his nostrils flared with newfound eagerness. "EhHHshoo! Ushhoo! Hehshhh!"

"Bless you," Amalie whispered.

"Thank you," Martin replied, just as quietly. His nose was streaming, doing nothing to discourage further sneezes, and he desperately wanted something to dry it with. "Where - where was I?" he asked, giving his nose a hasty dab with his finger.

"Saying you didn't want to tell me," she replied dryly. Still, it was hard to stay angry when he looked so helpless. Feeling motherly, she reached up and dabbed at his face with the bottom of her blouse. "Better?" she whispered.

He nodded, blushed his thanks, and hastily resumed what he was saying. "Right, well, I didn't want to tell you, but, while you were gone..." He put his arm around her and sniffled, shaking his head sadly. "... Kerr was muttering stuff again, shouting some of it, and - "

"Did he wake up?"

"No, he - "

"Ktschh! Etsh'huh!" Cadogan lay back against one of the wood planks, his head bobbing firmly each sneeze. He did not stop for another five or six, and then relaxed with a sigh.

"No, he didn't," Martin repeated, "just in his sleep. And... and he hasn't eaten, Amalie. I tried to get some water down his throat, but even that wouldn't work. If anything, Amalie, getting to the palace will help him. He needs help Amalie, or else... or else..."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she stared up at him with a disbelieving horror. Betrayed, she spoke in a fragmented hurry, "well - well maybe you just want to get back so you can see your family. Maybe you don't care about me at all." She slunk away and he let her, feeling bruised himself. He didn't want to hurt her, he wanted to help. Didn't she see that?

She hid her face between her knees, knowing she was unfair. Still, it wasn't Martin's decision to make. And Certainly not Cadogan's. If she didn't want to go to the palace yet, then they wouldn't. He was her brother, not theirs. Besides, she couldn't help but believe their was a grain of truth in what she'd said. He had his own reasons for wanting to reach the palace, and they obviously colored his judgement.

Cadogan had begun sneezing again, quietly harsh little spats of air that left him gasping. She was about to crawl over to him and help in some way, when the roof slipped in with a gust of rainwater.

She screamed and backed into a wall, more surprised than anything else.

"That's it," Cadogan said, running over to their side of the shack. "We'll freeze if we stay here. Martin - you said there was no one in the house, right?"

The Prince looked uncomfortable, but nodded anyway. His lower lip was still stuck out, pouting from his argument with Amalie. "Not that I can tell," he said, "but... but it's odd. It looks like it was used long ago, yet everything's in perfect order."

"Well, would you rather take a chance or freeze to death?" A sheen of the water stuck to Cadogan's pale skin, little droplets illuminating the russet shades of his eyes and nose. His entire face had swollen up, making it overtly uncomfortable for him to talk.

"Fine, let's go," Martin grunted, already heaving Kerr over his shoulder. Once upon a time, Amalie thought wistfully, he would have been too heavy for one person to carry. Remembering the picnic blankets at the last moment, they hurried out the slatted door and into the downpour.

Amalie gasped at the sight - she'd never seen this kind of rain in her entire life. Rain poured down as if dropped from cookie sheets, not so much in drops as entire waves. Two moments outside and her clothes were soaked; she could only imagine how Martin was faring, with his temperature still high. Still, she did not feel so wonderful herself. Her head felt light and airy, and she felt the water as if it were up to her waist already. Were they drowning? Is that what this was?

Suddenly, she realized she could not see the others. The rain blinded her momentarily, and she felt sick. "Martin! Cadogan!"

She heard a faint sound from one side, but could not tell who it was or what they were saying. Her vision was too blurry, and she did not know if she could keep walking. Just as she was about to call again, scream that they come to help her wherever they were, she felt her sight slip away completely. Darkness.

---

I'd love to know what people think! Thanks for reading!

[obsessed]

ASDFL;ASDJFASDF. What's gonna happen?! Ahhh I wanna know so bad.

[Infernal]

My word, this is exquisite. You are a fantastic author, my dear. I'm hoping Kerr wakes, but it looks unlikely at this point. I'm eagerly awaiting the next update.

[dumpling]

OMG

CLIFFHANGER

please continue

[Candy]

Eeeeeeee *runs in circles* the cliffhangers are just superbly frustrating! Must have more!

[Ciuty80]

!wonderful! need definitely moooaaarrr of this awesome story

[PaperThings]

Wow, okay, two (I think?) parts left! Maybe three. Er... warning in advance: I really don't like happy endings . Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last part! I wish there was more I could do to thank you guys - you have no idea how much your feedback and support means to me - but I'm out of ideas . Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part as well!

A quick note, also: I'm now in the writers' group, so I can edit my chapters, meaning, I promise, I'll go back and edit all of the mistakes out as soon as I finish this story. And hopefully with my next story, I'll be able to do that as I go along.

Thank you so much to everyone who's reading this! I love you guys .

Part 21

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There was a moment of terrible, suffocating pain. Her skin crawled with stings and bites, and she felt as if her bones were retracting. She though she might be screaming, but her ears wouldn't work properly to check. As quickly as it had come, the pain dimmed, replaced with a steady line of nausea. Like lines on a screen, she watched a shapeless world fly by in landmarks of color.

She knew this feeling. She recognized it! The panic dripped away, immediately replaced with a giddy relief. This was a vision. This was how she felt before a vision. Her senses returned to her, heightened even, Amalie hoped she hadn't scared the others too much. Cadogan would know what was going on of course, but Martin wouldn't...

Well, there was no time to think about that now. The colors were going faster and faster, and the moment they blurred into a single line, the vision would start. An undeniable happiness baked inside her; she hadn't had a vision in months. Maybe this was a sign, a premonition within a premonition. Maybe everything would finally improve. She nearly missed the beginning of the prophecy, she was so distracted with joy.

Oddly, her view of the scene did not change. Usually she watched visions from a bird's eyes view, or a neutral sideways position, but this time she seemed to be watching from her own body. That meant she was present; she wasn't always. The air tingled with someone's excitement, someone's happiness, though she could not tell whose. She was not in her own body for the vision, though she was nearly certain that she would be when this moment came.

"Oh, Amalie, it's just like you said!" Martin's voice. Her view swiveled, and now Martin, Cadogan and Kerr were all beside her. She could not tell if Kerr was conscious or not. "That's his carriage." He pointed a slender hand, and they all gasp at the sight of the chariot. Nothing so lovely could ever have existed in their imaginations.

... Was she reading their minds? Or Cadogan's, at least? She felt his excitement and awe, didn't she? She felt it. Kerr's thoughts were muffled, but she knew she could reach those too, if she tried a bit harder. Martin's were easy as a textbook; she didn't need to use any sort of ability. He was happy. He was plainly, obviously overjoyed, nearly to the point of bursting. She wanted to hug him and bottle up his happiness, keep this picture of him in her mind.

"Martin, that's the woman I saw yesterday... I have to hide." It was her own voice, but she could not identify the source. Beneath her? Beside her? Somewhere inside her, this current version of her?

"Who? Where?" he asked.

The woman from the store - the one who had shooed her - bustled across the street, expression equally as sour as it had been the day before. Amalie felt her future self scrunch down in fear. ... Wait. She had said yesterday, hadn't she? Hadn't she? So unless... unless the woman shooed her twice, then this scene was... tomorrow? She couldn't believe it. Was that really Martin's father? How did he know where they were? Was he really coming to save them tomorrow?

Her vision tunneled frantically, and she felt the vision slipping away from her. Dizziness swathed her mind for a moment, but she hardly cared. This was the end of the misery, then. They would get to the palace - no need to put Cadogan's plan into effect - and Kerr would be cured. It would all be okay. Everything would be okay. She could barely breathe, she was thinking so quickly.

She felt warm, shaking arms encircle her, and fell to peace once again. Martin. "Amalie, oh, Amalie, you're okay... " Her head was against his chest, and she had to twist around to see his face. It was pale, frightfully pale, but he was smiling at her. "Cadogan said it was just a vision, but - "

She broke his words with a kiss, deeper and more passionate than any they'd yet shared. Energy fired through her, for they were saved. She had energy to waste now, for they would not need it shortly. His shock touched her for just a second, but then his arms tightened over her back and he responded to her fervor.

"Is she okay?" Cadogan shouted. They broke apart and glanced up at the house, where he peered from the door.

Martin nodded and called back. "I - I think so." His voice was unsteady, but she sensed laughter behind it. "Is Kerr okay?"

"Yes," Cadogan said, "he's on the couch. There's - well, you'll see when you get inside." With a last nod to them, he ducked behind the door and closed it, leaving them alone on the muddy lawn.

"We should get inside," Martin said, after a moment. "The rain - it isn't good for us." She looked up, her surprise so dramatized that he almost chuckled. In the excitement, she had forgotten the storm, but now it no longer mattered to her. Each drop was a souvenir of this precious night, their last night as runaways. "Oh... what did you see? In your vision?"

She took her time in looking back at him, for she was not sure she could speak. Her chest felt breathless, pleasantly winded. "I - Martin, we're going to be saved."

His shock registered in a flipbook fashion, pages and pages of emotions flitting by. She giggled watching him, enjoying his shock. "What?" he asked, just as lost for words.

"Tomorrow," she continued, sitting up. "I think it's tomorrow. In the square. Martin, your - your father's coming. Tomorrow!" she repated, for that was clearly the most important detail.

He still didn't seem to understand. His mouth was open, eyes wide, but he hadn't said another word. She gripped his shoulders in patches, pleased for once that his skin was warm with fever. It was comforting and it made her want to dance through the hills, rain or no rain. They were going to be saved.

"I... are you sure?" With a sniff he tilted his head, the odd angle giving him the impression of a skeptic. Amalie tried not to bristle.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, trying impatiently to be patient. "My visions are never wrong, Martin."

"Well..." He shook his head quickly, perhaps to clear it. "Why don't we go tell Cadogan?" His voice was too soft; why wasn't he more excited? "Please?" he asked. He offered a smile then - though too small to make her happy - and took her hand. "Come on, let's go inside."

Amalie could easily see through the rain now, and knew the distance was further than she would have liked. Now that her excitement had been burned around the edges, certain realities registered. Her feet hurt.

She sighed in relief when they reached the house, for they had not been in a comfortable room since Cornelia's. And this was a whole house! But it still felt a dull luxury compared to what she'd just seen, and she didn't appreciate the warmth of the foyer when she first stepped inside.

He did not waste a moment. "Cadogan," Martin said, "Amalie's vision saw us getting rescued." Cadogan's face showed surprise for only a moment, and then he joined them by the door.

"By who?"

She was angry with them both, for not celebrating, and ignored the question for a second. The ground floor of the house was nice, if a little worn. She spotted a kitchen round the bend of couches, but doubted there was any food. Martin was right; the house seemed to be abandoned long ago.

"My parents," Martin answered for her, "well, at least my father."

"She saw that?"

"Yes, she said she did."

"And when's it happening?"

He hesitated, and Amalie saw his uncomfortable expression from the corner of her eye. "...She said tomorrow."

Though not a word was said, Amalie could feel their skepticism sizzling against her skin. What? Weren't they excited?

"Amalie, I don't think - Hih-kstchh! ESHH!" Cadogan always looked in such pain when he sneezed, it worried her. His pale eyes clouded with loss of focus, little blurbs of haziness tossed over their usual control. She saw in the way he kept his shoulders hunched, gleaning the smallest possible twitch of his body, that he hated every moment of it. But unlike Martin, he would never act embarrassed by it, either. "Wa-ha... wait..." he said, eyes flickering so quickly that he barely got the word out. He took two long strides to the kitchen area and grabbed a dishcloth off the oven rack. "HEH-TISHH!" He crushed his face into it, and she saw the tiny ripple of reaction in his spine.

He drew away from it and cursed, several sour lines of red appearing around his face. He tossed the thing away. "I-huh-it's du..du - huh EISHH! HUH-IXSHH!" His features shot back in their places for a brief second, relaxing, and then immediately geared up in preparation. Face shiny with irritants, Cadogan ducked his head into his elbow crook just as his nostrils flared open. "EKSHH! Hihkshh! Heh'ishh!" He dropped to the floor and breathed heavily, his fingers scratching and the irritated places on his face.

"Bless you?" Amalie asked.

He nodded and gave her a small grin. "Yeah. Sorry," he sniffed and rubbed his face again, "this place is covered in dust."

She knelt by his side, catching his hand just before it pawed off an angry scab. "Don't scratch. The irritates it more." She dropped his fingers and went to the sink, scrubbing a spare napkin free of all dirt and dust. Her hands worked it into a neat, soaked square. "Here," she said, "put this on your skin."

"Thanks," Cadogan said. Martin joined them by the sinks, completing their group in a small circle. Amalie leaned her head against the counter and smiled. They were in a real kitchen. There was a stove and refrigerator, a spastic little lighting fixture. They had this whole house all to themselves.

"Why - why don't you finish what you were saying?" Cadogan asked. With his nose running, he was harder for her to glare at.

"Fine," she said. With a sigh, she folded her knees up against her chest, and continued talking. "In the vision, we were standing in the square. And Martin and I saw his father's chariot coming, and he told me that's what it was." Neither of them missed the way Martin flinched at her words, a little smile ebbing onto his lips. He wanted it to be true so badly, but he also didn't dare believe it yet. "Then I saw - I saw this woman that I saw today, walking down the street. And I said something like... something like 'that was the woman I saw yesterday' and I tried to hide."

"Why would you try to hide?" Cadogan asked.

"Oh, because she thinks we're beggars. She wants us to leave town."

"Ah, okay." He chortled and shook his head. "Well... alright. But Amalie..." His gaze met Martin's, both of them cautious. She could not help but feel as if some great injustice was being enacted here. "... It's good timing, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "I mean, of course it is! We need medicine, and - and shelter, and - "

"No," he said, teeth clenched, "I mean good timing for you." His voice was gentle, but his words nailed her roughly when their meaning registered. He went on quickly, noticing the change in her expression. "I just mean... you don't want to leave Kerr behind, and I understand, but... isn't this very convenient?" He met her gaze, challenging. She tried to look at Martin, but his eyes were solidly on the floor.

In the efforts of diplomacy, she tried to keep her temper. Only after several deep breaths, several seconds of stalling, did she try to answer her him. "Maybe so," she said tightly, "but Cadogan... I swear to you, my visions are always true. And - and I can't believe you think I would make this up, or lie to you..." Her voice caught, and she folded her arms, feeling childish. A criminal under their doubt. "I can't believe that.' She left them to sit by Kerr. He looked pale and sweaty, and she felt in her heart that things would never be the same for him. She didn't know what Cornelia had put in that medicine, but the way he mumbled, the sound of his breathing... it wasn't normal. She blinked quickly, ignoring the hand she felt on her shoulder. Martin.

"We weren't calling you a liar, Amalie." He settled by Kerr's knee on the sofa, awkwardly pulling her onto his lap. "You should know that. We just want to make sure that you - that you understood it." She spotted Cadogan behind him, a looming shadow, and her anger returned.

"He wasn't," she muttered, "but that doesn't matter. I'm - I'm right. And if you come with me to the square tomorrow, you'll see." Martin kissed the top of her head, and she shut her eyes.

"Fine," Cadogan agreed, more readily than she had expected.

"Re-really?"

"Why not?" he shrugged, and sat on the floor in front of them. "We might be saved. Of course I won't miss out on that. But... I want you to promise me something." Her heart thudded, and she knew she was about to get it.

"What?' she asked tersely, chin out. "What do you want me to promise?"

"If they don't come tomorrow - and I'm not saying they won't - then you'll listen to my plan."

"The one where... the one where..." Her throat was too dry. She hated him for tricking her this way.

"Yes," he said, refusing to take his eyes off her. "If they don't show up tomorrow, you'll let two of us leave for the palace, and one of us stay here with Kerr. Since you're so sure... it won't really matter." He was so mocking, she wanted to slap him. This wasn't fair. Not fair at all. But fine, she would give them what they wanted. After all, she was sure, wasn't she? That's what she'd seen.

"Sure," she said, her own grin slathered with venom and sarcasm. "If they don't show up, we'll go along with your stupid plan."

If her willingness surprised him, he didn't show it. "Alright then. Now.. we should probably go to sleep. It's late, and you think they're coming early, don't you?"

"The sun was up," she answered mildly.

"Then let's go upstairs and see what the bedrooms are like. Martin, can you help me carry Kerr?"

"Of course." He let go of her, heaved her brother into his grip. "Amalie..."

"Don't. It's fine. I'll be up in a minute."

She let them leave, wanting to relish in her fury for a moment long her. How dare they - Cadogan, really - put her on the spot like that. She was more hurt than anything, really. She trusted them... why couldn't they return that trust? She leaned against a grainy pillow and shut her eyes, too tired to climb up the stairs. Maybe she would just stay here, wake in the morning and show them what idiots they were.

When she awoke, she could not tell how long she had been asleep. The lights were off, and she had a blanket over her, meaning someone must have come down to check on her. But when? Beyond the frill of a musty curtain, the eyes of a walking night stared back at her. She wanted to find a star, make a wish, but there were none to be seen. A clear, cold evening.

She shivered, suddenly cold despite the blanket. The house felt wrong now, all wrong. She remembered what Martin had said, about how the furniture was too perfect, and curled up against the couch. It was a stupid thing to be afraid of, she knew, but she couldn't slow the racing of her blood. What had happened to the owners of this house? Had a family lived here? Children? Siblings, like she and Kerr? She didn't want to know, but at the same time, the unknown is always far worse.

Terrified of every crack in the floorboards, she raced up the rickety staircase. At least if she were on level with the others, she would be less afraid.

The second floor was unsurprising, if perhaps for its great breadth. There were two bathrooms, one on each end of the hall, and at least six other rooms in between. The carpet was a thick, plush red, every fiber beaded with dust. Poor Cadogan, she thought, before she remembered that she was angry with him. Less afraid now, her curiosity got the better of her. She tiptoed to the first door and opened it a crack, wondering which of her friends was inside.

To her surprise, the room held not a bed, but a study. Shelves lined the walls, each precious inch occupied by a book. Books! She had not read in months, and she realized she missed it terribly. Did Martin and Cadogan like to read? She would have to ask them. It was too hard to choose a volume, though. They were all thick and skimmed with leather, too important for her dirt-caked fingertips. She steered clear, deciding there would be plenty of books at the palace. Once they arrived, she could read to her heart's content. The thought struck her like a pearl inside a clam: a beautiful surprise. Her parents' were gone, her home, but a little piece of her old life might return to her soon. It was certainly a comfort.

Overwhelmed by her thoughts, Amalie sat herself down in the chair behind the desk. It was sturdy, a maple wood, but it creaked behind her when she shifted. From lack of use?

Her fingers itched to do something, be productive in some way. There was paper on the desk, a neat stack of it, and a careful line of pencils. She smiled, the idea striking her with a certain infatuation. She would leave her legacy by writing it down, right her on this desk. So she wrote. It was not everything, it was hardly all the words in her head, but it was enough to leave her memory behind. But where to put it? Eyes heavy with exhaustion, she simply tucked inside the top drawer. No one would find it for years, probably, but at least her mark was left behind.

Tired but satisfied, she shut the door lightly as the left. The house was too big, she decided. She did not like the the open feeling of the hall, as if anything could come and strike her without warning.

"Hehhshhoo!"

She jumped in terror and then quickly calmed herself, comforted. Did that mean he was awake? Smiling, she went to the door, all anger evaporated. What was the point of being mad at them, anyway? They were her friends, and no matter how much the palace helped them, she knew their struggled was far from over. She would need them - all three of them - for all her life.

"Mar... hey, hey, are you okay?" She rushed to his side.

He was on his knees atop the mattress, bent over, panting. This in and of itself was not frightening - he was just sneezing, after all - but he looked paler than she'd seen. His clothes were matted to his body with sweat, his entire face coated. He writhed in agony - fever? chills? she wanted to know! - inhaling mightily. "Martin?" She sat beside him, tucked his back against her chest, his head under her chin. "Martin? Can you answer me?"

He gave the slightest shake of his head, then turned and huddled his face against his lap. "Ahh'fishshue! Ehshoo! Hehhh-hehhaishhoo!"

"Martin?" she made her voice as soft and soothing as possible, bent atop his back so her head was on level with his. "Martin?" She ran her hand lightly over his neck, hoping to calm him. The skin seared with blistery heat, and she drew back. Well, fever was certainly part of his problem. She took his hands instead, reaching over to the side for a pillowcase. Removing it from the pillowcase in a fluid motion, she put it in his lap. "Martin, use this, okay? Martin?"

She stayed curled over him, as if her presence would somehow protect him. He nodded, eyes open but blinded with moisture. His little pants cut off abruptly, replaced with a scalding whimper. She clutched his hands tighter, feeling his back jerk against her stomach and chest as he heaved for breath. "Ama--" he started, trying to say her name.

"Shh... don't talk," she said, frantically caressing the backs of his palms.

"Heh'hehheh!" A whine snaked somewhere in his throat, alarming her. As quick as a snap of fingers, his gray eyes disappeared from sight, and his knotted face disappeared into the pillow case. "Gishhooo! Huhhshchhoo! Haschhoo!" There was a long, winded pause, and Amalie realized she was holding her breath in anticipation.

When he didn't sneeze again, she decided to speak. "Martin? Are you okay?"

He shook his head and sat up, the pillowcase clamped against his dripping nose. "I dod't dow," he said honestly, his voice a congested croak. "The sdeezing woke be ub... I couldn'd breathe..." He sniffed heartily to prove it, and then gasped, his mouth open and eyelids flapping like pinned wings. Her little broken bird. Amalie hugged him tightly, shifting them both so he was lying against her, head on her chest.

"It won't come out..." he said, sounding so forlorn that she almost giggled. Smiling, she moved her hand to tickle his nose for him, but he shook his head frantically. "No... please don't," he said. "I've sneezed enough. Besides... I don't want to sneeze on you."

She relented, amazing and slightly appalled at his insecurity. Even after everything... he thought she'd care. He didn't think she'd understand that he was helpless here. "Okay," she sighed, petting his hair. "Here." She lay the pillowcase across her arm and shoulders, "now you're fine."

He squirmed and shook his head. "Better. But I'd still rather... heh... rather not." He rubbed his nose in frustration, for the sensation had gone again.

"Can you breathe now?" she asked, her worry returning.

He nodded. "My nose just hurts. Tickles. But I'm okay."

"Were you feeling this way all day?" she admonished, glaring at him. "You should have said something."

"No, I swe-ehahr....I wasn.. wa - " He turned his head desperately, then, noticing he was trapped, pushed it into the pillowcase. His cheek was so warm, she could feel it through both sets of fabric. "Hih...'HihSHUUE!" He sighed, exhausted. "I think I'm finished," he said, smiling a little through his embarrassment. "For now, anyway."

"Well, okay then." She smiled, gently trying to shift him onto the mattress again.

"Wait, Amalie." His eyes were wide and earnest, their even grey throttling all his senses. "Please stay with me." He shivered slightly, and she let him resume his position in her arms. "Please."

"Of course," she whispered, only slightly surprised. She heard him gasp again, ready for another sneeze, and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry," she whispered, watching his eyes fly shut. "Morning will be here soon."

---

Thank you for reading! Sorry about the length of this chapter, by the way. I think it's close to 4000 words. Oops , sorry about that.

[obsessed]

Ahhh, I love the plot so much.

The sneezing just makes it all so much more

<3

[Ciuty80]

sooo wonderful

thanks for this "long" update

please moar

[starpollen]

1. I LOVE THE LENGTH. More is always better.

2. I feel bad in a way... that Martin and Cadogan's suffering is... sexy...

3. You hate happy endings??... I'm... not sure I can deal with that... Seriously. I'm almost afraid to read any more now. And I really love this story!...

[dumpling]

I love this story

Cadogan and Martin sneezing is just so

And I love reading long stories so don't worry about the length

[PaperThings]

Thank you for the comments! Er... quick disclaimer of sorts: I'm very sorry if you're angry with me about the little, um, twist in the story. Doubt anyone cares enough to actually be annoyed about what happens here, but I just thought I would warn you . Anyway... there is going to be one more chapter, possibly two if I can't cram in the ending I want in the next bit. Hope you, um, like it .

Part 22

---

Sunlight stroked the window pane as early as six a.m., spilling a many-layered glow across the carpet. Amalie sighed, giving up on the idea of a good night's sleep. She'd dozed on and off, but spent most of the night fussing over Martin. Though he'd fallen asleep after about the third hour of sneezing, his nose ran on without him. She was happy to dab at it every few minutes, happy to hold the pillowcase over his face when it looked like he would sneeze again; she could hardly sleep if she thought he was uncomfortable, anyway.

She felt tired, certainly, but it was a peaceful sort of tired. Things would all get better today Her sleeplessness wouldn't matter. They would ride to the palace in the King's horse-drawn carriage, and sleep in a bed with satin sheets. Her eyes flickered to Martin's, who's head lolled restlessly on her shoulder. He would have his family back. A mother, a father. Siblings. She felt a curdling jealousy in her gut, but it passed and she smiled again. He was quite handsome, even sick like this.

A gentle rapping sounded on the door, and Amalie crept from the bed as quietly as she could. "Coming," she whispered. "Cado - what are you wearing?"

First of all, he was clean. Pristinely so. All traces of grime were gone from his face, and his blonde hair was shiny and slicked back. He wore a suit, blue pants and black jacket. A discolored shirt that she guessed was once green. Not only did the outfit not match, but it clearly did not fit him. Everything looked a size too big.

He grimaced a moment, and fiddled with the cuffs on each hand. "I found them in the drawers. Figured whoever no longer lives here won't be needing it, so..."

"B-but why?" She struggled not to laugh.

"Well, we're going to see royalty, aren't we?" he sounded testy. "I thought I better make a good impression."

"Really? You don't seem like the kind to wor - " She stopped abruptly, realizing that this was his way of saying he believed her. That he wasn't suspicious. She smiled up at him, grateful for the friendship they'd developed. "I should dress up too," she said thoughtfully, twisting her mouth around. "Did you see any women's clothes?"

"Not in my room, no, but I think I might have been in the brother's room. The brother of the father - husband - that is."

"You were snooping?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Not snooping, Amalie. Educating myself. It's important to have all the facts."

"Right."

"But you might be able to find women's clothing in one of the other rooms."

"Okay, I'll look." She paused, and then decided to ask anyway. "And how was... how was your night?" She tapped her nose for indication.

He rolled his eyes. "A pain. But I'm alright." He didn't look alright, of course. The irritated markings on his face were stark against his newfound shiny apparel, and she noticed new ones around his cheek. She pointed, her confused face asking the question. "The pillow," he explained. "Dust. Lots of it. And I think maybe pet dander. There was a dog in one of the photos."

Amalie shuddered, imagining the night he must have had. Probably comparable to Martin's. "I'm sorry," she said. "You should have found us."

He shrugged. "You were busy with Martin. Anyway, he was probably worse off than I am. I'm used to dealing with these. Would you like to get ready now, so you can help me bring your brother downstairs?" Always impatient.

"Sure, that sounds fine. Is it alright if I let Martin sleep, though? Until the last moment?"

"Up to you. You're the one in charge of getting us there on time, after all."

"Okay. Well. I'll see you in a bit." She explored the drawers in her own room first, but discovered the clothes were far too small. A young child's outfits. It was perplexing; the room looked like an adult's bedroom. She suddenly wanted to snoop herself, figure out the story behind this family, but there wasn't time. Instead, she hurried into the second room and found an outfit there. The skirt was too long, and the shirt itchy, but it would have to do.

She took the longest shower she ever had, carefully noting the soap brands and content of the medicine cabinet. Nearly empty. Generic soaps and toothpastes. One lonely towel hung on the rack, and Cadogan's used one was folded on the sink. She didn't see a single washcloth. Whoever these people were, they hadn't had much personal taste, it seemed. White tiles. Blue, faded bedspreads on each of the beds. Where had their personalities been? Thoroughly confused - because they had such a luxury of being confused by curiosity, now - Amalie nearly walked into Cadogan.

"Ready to get your brother downstairs?"

She gasped. His eyes were giant, red balloons. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I tried to straighten up... the couch cushions downstairs are filthy. "

"I'm so-"

"Save it," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don't get anywhere in life if you apologize for things you didn't cause." Senseless coming from him, but she ignored it and quietly followed his tracks down the hall. "I put breakfast on the table for us," he said, turning round to face her. Quick as the flick of a switch - for that's all it was really, a gentle whiff of allergen triggering a reaction - his head snapped violently into is wrist. "EK-chhh! Hhhkushh! Tsss'chh!" He blinked in a slow, groggy motion, hopelessly trying to clear his eyes. "I hope they keep the palace clean," he remarked darkly.

Together, they dragged Kerr as far as the stairs, and then Cadogan had to pause and sneeze again. As his hands were occupied, he twisted his head at an impossible angle and let the spray hit the shoulder of the suit.

"Bless you," Amalie muttered in advance, for his face took far too long to register the sensation.

His eyes drew shut slowly, and then his lips and nostrils shadowed the motion by spreading further apart. Quick as the link between the ascent and release of a firework, his consecutive sneezes sounded in rapid-fire succession. "Eh-huh'tchh! HUHhhhshhh! TCHH! Heh'tchhh! HehTCHH!" He sniffed ungracefully, making his nose dance up and down.

"You don't like sneezing, do you?" she asked. "Or - or anything like it. Anything... anything where you're not in charge." Her heart pounded inside, for she was still a bit afraid of Cadogan. She hadn't wanted to ask the question, but the bravery had come within her grip and she took it while she could. To her surprise, he smiled.

"Well, I've had all my life to get used to the sneezing part. And the other... I'm getting better about it." Their eyes clicked together, smiles abound in both pairs. They were both happy, truly happy. After Kerr was on the couch - and Amalie had given his hand a stroke, his congested snores a mournful look - she dashed upstairs to wake Martin.

She wanted to leave him so badly, but they had to get to the square. The vision meant they would be there on time - after all, they couldn't have seen the chariot otherwise - but she had a feeling that they couldn't delay too long. "Martin?" she shook his shoulder as lightly as possible, and found it far too warm. His forehead was as bad, or worse, and she dried his face of as much sweat as she could. "Martin, you have to wake up," she whispered, lightly kissing the skin of his cheek. "Please? Wake up?"

He stirred slowly, and with many sniffled, but eventually blinked open his eyes. They were both terribly bloodshot, countering his nose in competition for the most ailing part of his body. "Sorry," he muttered, clearing his throat as he tried to sit up. "I'm up now."

"Don't be sorry." She put her hand on the small of his back, wanting to stabilize him in some way. "Cadogan found breakfast for us, and then we're going to go to the square. I suppose we'll have to pull Kerr in the wagon, again."

"He found breakfast? Where?"

Amalie realized her own supreme hunger at these words, and shrugged. "I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he went hunting," she answered wryly. "He seems like he hunts, doesn't he?"

Martin nodded stiffly, and rubbed at the back of his neck. He opened his mouth, and, misinterpreting, Amalie handed him the pillowcase. He smiled and shook his head, pocketing it. "No, no, I'm just... I'm just looking at you. You're really pretty today, Amalie."

She blushed faintly, a color that clashed endearingly with her pale flesh, and smiled a real smile. "Thank you." She'd hardly thought about appearances at all, in all these months - there wasn't time or ability, really - but she was glad to finally make a good impression in that department.

"Should I get ready like that too?" His voice was so stuffy and congested, she hardly wanted to suggest anything but more sleep.

"If - if you want to. We honestly should be going, though. And besides, he's your father. He won't care, right?"

Martin scoffed quietly and shook his head. "He'll care more." He smiled up at her, the corners tinged with a blithe red. "I hope my mother's with him. And maybe Marcel, or Matthew. Or any of my sisters." His excitement did wonders for clearing his voice, and Amalie lunged forward to hug him.

"I hope so too, Martin," she whispered, kissing his lips quickly. "I'll meet you downstairs, alright?"

Breakfast did indeed suggest that Cadogan had been hunting, though Amalie couldn't imagine when he had the chance. They devoured lean strips of meat from a type of bird, savoring the flavorless flesh as if it were a delicacy.

"You know, the food at the palace is pretty good," Martin said, forgoing his modesty this once. "Sweet sauces... lots of pastries." They shared a round of contained smiles, not wanting to let their eagerness get the better of them. It would all be over in a few hours, Amalie thought in a rush. It all would be over forever.

"Should we walk over?" Cadogan asked, once they'd finished. There was nothing else to do, of course. Still, Amalie almost didn't want to press their luck. What if the chariot didn't show? What if she'd made a mistake of some kind?

"I-I guess so."

"Alright. Hold on." Almost as if he'd scheduled them himself, he swung his elbow up to his nose. He breathed heavily a moment, and then with a breath almost like a sigh, "Hehhh-kshh! Huhh'kshhh! Kshhh'u!" Wearily, he shut his mouth and rubbed his nose with an extra pillowcase Amalie handed over. "Thank you," he said, waving his hand to avoid any 'bless you's. "Now would we like to go?"

They loaded Kerr into the wagon, as Amalie had predicted, an began down the hill. It was a slow journey, mostly because the wagon was difficult to steer, and Martin grew winded easily.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, after the third time they stopped for him. "I just..." He shook his head rapidly, making an almost puppy-like impression. "Ehhhshoo!" He paused, breathing deeply into his cupped hands.

"Bless you," Amalie whispered, reaching over to pat his back. She felt tremors dart up and down his spine, and knew the sneezes were exerting him further than he could handle.

"Hehhsh'iuuu!" It sounded weak, and Amalie put her arm around him. He opened his eyes and wiped at them, trying to disperse the streaming pink liquid that mingled with his irises.

"Would you like us to rest for a minute?" Amalie asked, continuing to move her hand in patterns along his spine. "We can, you know."

"No, no," Martin insisted, even as his lids began whisper downward again. "I'm fi-hih-ine." His mouth broke into an expectant oh-shape, and he hid into his hands once more. "Hahharshhoo! Hehhgggkshhoo! Ekkxxxshh'uu!"

"Your face is wet," Amalie cooed, taking out the pillowcase for him. With sweat or snot or tears she couldn't tell. He dried it, cheeks bright and pinched, and sighed.

"Please. Let's keep walking." They obeyed at a steady legato pace, four eyes trained slowly on his back. "Stop looking at me," he said, after a moment. His eyes were shut tight, still embarrassed. "Please. I'm honestly okay."

Wanting to make him happy, Amalie tried to begin a conversation. "You - you think they'll have medicine for Kerr at the palace, right?"

"Of course," Martin replied. "They have the best medicines in the world."

This cheered her all the further, and she managed to scan over Kerr's disgruntled expression with a degree of hope. He would be cured in a matter of days. Maybe hours, if they were lucky.

At last they arrived in the square, perching themselves as far away from any flower bushes as possible. For Cadogan's sake. They made Kerr sit up in the wagon and leaned his head against a stone, making their stagnant position a bit less conspicuous. The time began to pass in a muddy way, each traveller too expectant for real chitchat. They were hungry and too eager and, quite frankly, bored.

It was when Amalie had almost given up - almost burst into tears and said she'd made a mistake - that they heard the distant hooves of horses.

"Oh, Amalie, it's just like you said!" Martin was the happiest she'd heard him, his sickness invisible against his joy. He pointed frantically. "That's his carriage." They drew in a collective breath - Amalie and Cadogan of shock, Martin of sheer bliss. The chariot was a beautiful thing. Cream-colored, a set of matching horses drew the front, their reigns laced with a velvet red.

The sense of reading their minds was not apparent as it had been in the vision, but it was easy enough to read their face. Then just as she'd predicted, the woman from the shop started down the street.

Delighted, Amalie repeated the words she'd heard inside her head. "Martin, that's the woman I saw yesterday... I have to hide." She crouched behind his shoulder, glad when he extended his arm to pull her close.

"Who? Where?"

"Over there." She pointed, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. The carriage had stopped in front of them.

"That's - that's Terrance," he whispered, smiling so hard that it almost looked unnatural. "My father's Vision man. Like you!" They bounced up and down together, and Cadogan shot them a quick grin. "And that's his private army! Maybe they know about the trouble we're in," he said excitedly. "Maybe they'll capture Cornelia."

"Oh, I hope so," Amalie whispered. He was pinching the skin of her hand, making visible red dents in it, but she hardly cared. This was a moment they would remember for the rest of their lives.

At last, with the sound of a trumpet behind him, a pair of booted feet stepped onto the stone. She heard Martin gasp, saw the tears fill his eyes in her peripheral vision.

"Dad?" he whispered brokenly, starting forward.

Perhaps because of so many people, Amalie reasoned, the King did not seem to see his son. His eyes were high in the air, after all. He did look an awful lot like Martin, she thought. His face was plumper, and he had a tweedy mustache across his upper lip, but his features held the same handsome token about them.

"Alright men," he said, speaking at last. "Cuff them. And remember, be careful with my son's."

Huh? Amalie did not understand. Was this not Martin's father? The others were still beside her; they didn't understand it either.

"Oh, and there are three companions with him..." The King's eyes went right to them - right to them! - but did not soften. "I suppose you'll have to kill one; we don't have room for three in the cell. The girl, maybe. Kill the girl."

His words were thick as soup, and did not register. Kill the girl? What did that mean? She realized only as the man drew forward - cannon aimed at her chest - that they intended her danger. She screamed long and loud, knowing she was about to die - knowing she could do nothing to stop it. Cadogan tried to move her, pulled at her arm, but was too taken aback to make a real effort. Martin was still; she imagined he was too confused to understand at all. This is it, she told herself, oddly accepting of the fact. Just as she shut her eyes, ready for the blow, something remarkable happened.

Either triggered awake by the scene before him, or pretending all along, Kerr's eyes burst open. There was a deep, wild realization - he understood more than they did, it seemed - and he jumped in front of her. He would never let them harm his baby sister: not ever. Before anyone had time to move him, before Amalie even had time to scream again, the gun fired and the bullet weaved its way into Kerr's chest.

---

Thank you for reading! I'd love any comments you have to leave me, either about this part or about the story as a whole. I'd love to know what people think I could work on, etc.

[glowstick03]

....GAH!!!!!! I had a feeling something would happen to Kerr, but not that! It is sad...but...it's still a fantastically written story. I don't think I can be angry with you. Can't wait for the final part!

[Aprilcot]

I knew you would kill Kerr you evil person

Great chapter though

[dumpling]

OMG... he jumped infront of her

I wonder where this will go

[Candy]

Noooo! Kerr....I liked him!

[obsessed]

I have shivers.

How ironic.

...

A;SLDKJFAS;DFLJKASDFASDFADS.FADSAFDS.SADFASDLFJSADL;KFJADSL;KJFS;ADLJKFADSF.

C:

[Ciuty80]

WOAAAHHHHH

[Sawyer]

AFHJAGSDJKFAHSAAFJAFJAK;SDSGJKAHDFFKSKJASFHJASDLFHASFJSDGHSDL;FJAH

oh my god.

marry me?

[Weirdo Girl]

AFHJAGSDJKFAHSAAFJAFJAK;SDSGJKAHDFFKSKJASFHJASDLFHASFJSDGHSDL;FJAH

oh my god.

marry me?

No! Marry me!

I absoultly love this.