by L. R. W. Lee
“I understand, Selova, but we don’t care. We need you to try.” Kovis and Alfreda bobbed their heads in confirmation.
I willed her to agree, to at least try.
Selova nodded once. “Very well, then bring her inside.”
We all moved to follow as she turned, but she stopped and held up a hand. “Only the prince, and only to bring her where I can treat her.”
She’d never allowed me inside her sanctum, and it seemed this time would be no different. Alfreda and I took a step back as Sandrin opened the door for his mistress, and Selova and Kovis stepped through. I tunneled into Kovis’s mind in a heartbeat and her workroom appeared.
Before us, two wooden tables commanded my attention. On the far one, a mound of sand the length of my forearm looked as though hands had begun to be fashioned. The table closest was empty, and Selova directed Kovis to lay Velma on it.
I scanned the rest of the space while Kovis strode forward. All manner of shelves, cluttered with bottles and jars, occupied the sand wall to the far left and wrapped around to the doorway they’d just walked through. Vats of sand stood at the ready against the far right wall, alongside a large basin of water and another of a dark liquid I didn’t know.
Something on the full, but orderly counter beyond the tables flickered and drew my attention. At first I thought it was a glowing yellow flame, but the color danced, changing to orange. I watched, mesmerized as it shifted again to red, then purple, then blue, cyan, then green, and back to yellow. The same colors as the Lights in Wake! Was it a coincidence? Was this the source of life that Selova gave to her creations?
“Do not breathe a word of what you have seen in this room to anyone,” Selova commanded once Kovis had laid Velma down.
“You have my word,” he promised.
“Then if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to do.” She motioned him to the door as she rolled up her sleeves, approaching Velma’s form.
He returned to us in the hall, and I returned to my own head.
We’d done everything we could; now it was up to Selova. How I prayed this worked. It had to.
Sandrin approached, then stopped before us. “Perhaps you would appreciate a more comfortable place to wait and something to eat?” He’d taken time to assemble himself more thoroughly, and his attire as well as his wings and hair were again impeccable.
“Thank you,” Kovis said. We followed as the steward headed toward the end of the hall, back to Selova’s rooms. A tumbling fish that pretended to sing—yes, a “starfish.” Selova certainly had a wry sense of humor—now greeted us in the moving sand sculpture just outside her door. She’d again coordinated her attire with her creation, or the other way around.
The sand of the door parted like a curtain, and we followed him inside. Sandrin turned and, without judgment, asked, “Would you care to freshen up?”
He was right, we were a complete mess, Alfreda worst of all. What she’d been through… I couldn’t fathom. “How long…?” I asked.
“She’ll be at it for quite some time. You certainly have time for baths,” the steward assured.
We had time, and this might give us all something to occupy ourselves. “Yes. Please. And thank you,” I replied.
Sandrin forced a smile. “I wish I could do more, but I’ll have them draw water for you.”
Only darkness shown through the large window I wandered over to. I knew it overlooked the bay, but without the light of the moon, I couldn’t even see the waves, only the darkened foliage directly outside, which bobbed on the breeze.
The window became a mirror, and I looked at myself, really looked at myself for the first time in… since when? When was the last time I’d truly looked at myself? My hair was dirty and tangled, my face smudged, my leathers dark with Velma’s blood. But it wasn’t that which captured my focus. It was my eyes. They looked droopy, old, worn. They used to be vibrant… before all this began, when only hope and optimism filled me. Yes, I’d changed.
I ran a hand over where I’d pocketed the piece my aunts had given me. In the chaos, I’d forgotten all about it. They’d said to use it when most in need. Might it have saved Velma if I’d remembered? Had my aunts known what we’d face? Had they intended I use it? I sighed. If I’d botched that… I’d only know their intentions if I asked. I didn’t think I could face them if they had. Guilt seared my heart.
I finally looked back up at myself in the reflection. I was thinner than I’d been, no doubt due to the time we’d wandered about in the wilderness. We’d subsisted, survived. It had to have left a mark. But my gut told me the change I saw in my eyes had begun before that. It had probably begun when I’d shed the cloak of naivete that had protected me from the truth about Father, for eons. Any remaining good I’d ascribed to Father had been ripped to shreds, utterly destroyed, this sun.
I felt old, weary.
Amazing how some of the most significant changes in life could transpire so quickly, relatively, upending what I’d foolishly believed to be lasting. One annum in my four hundred odd annums. A speck. Yet not. Not the impact.
I let the thought linger as I refocused on the blackness outside, an abyss of sorts. When I’d gone to Wake, I thought I’d be facing the future without my family, but now that we’d found a way back, I’d allowed myself to believe we could figure a way out to see them more, especially after what I’d promised my aunts. But after all this… I might well let the abyss swallow me up.
Alfreda’s gone to bathe, Kovis said as he wrapped his arms around my wings and shoulders and drew me against himself. He rested his chin on the top of my head. Those are some very dark thoughts.
I feel… drained of life.
He didn’t say another word, only started humming a lullaby I’d sung to him as a child, “Little Man.” My mind filled in the words, as I’d modified the song for him:
Little man, you're cryin', I know why you're blue,
Someone took your big, black horse away,
Better go to sleep now,
Little man, you've had a busy day . . .
Kennan took your cookies, tell you what we'll do,
I will get you new ones right away,
Better go to sleep now,
Little man, you've had a busy day . . .
Alfreda cleared her throat behind us before we got to the next verse. “I’m finished. I got it pretty dirty, so they’re drawing a new bath.” She wore a clean, white robe and slippers, and continued drying her hair with the towel. Her olive skin against that whiteness, that purity, made the bruises on her face scream all the louder of what she’d endured.
I slipped out of Kovis’s embrace, and while I didn’t want to soil Alfreda’s new cleanness, love drew me to her. I held her gaze as I strode to her then wrapped my arms around her. She didn’t whimper, didn’t cry, just stood there, like a board, and let me hold her. I’d expected her to cry, but perhaps she had no more tears left to shed. I certainly felt that way. Or perhaps it was brokenness numbing her now that the trouble was behind her. I wouldn’t ponder it further, at least for now.
“Your bath is ready,” Sandrin announced, so I finally stepped away.
Alfreda sat down on the dark wicker sectional, pulled her legs beneath her, and drew one of the lime green throw pillows into her embrace. Her eyes drifted to that dark window, where she gazed into the abyss. She didn’t respond when I told her I’d be back in a bit, just continued staring into the darkness.
Kovis didn’t try to reassure me that she would be fine in time; he didn’t say anything as he took my hand and followed the steward into Selova’s private bath.
The room was tastefully appointed with an oval tub from which inviting steam rose. A chamber pot graced the far corner, and a long counter with a washbasin ran the length of the wall to the right. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I paid no mind to any other of the room’s accouterments. I felt as limp as I had when Kovis began my training regimen, what seemed ages ago.
He must have sensed it through the bond because on
ce the steward left us, Kovis put his arms on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Let me help you.”
I only nodded and stood there as he gently removed my boots, then unbuckled my leathers and removed first the top, then the bottom. Then he pulled off my braies. Excitement had made my stomach do flips back then at the vulnerability of being naked before him. Melancholy was all that filled me as he helped me into the hot water.
“Lay back,” he said after removing his boots, blood-covered leathers, and the top of his braies—blood caked the top of his arm around where the mare’s teeth had breached his leathers, but the wound no longer bled. His tattoo shown brown, heaviness, as he knelt beside the tub. With no magic in Dream, he picked up the soap, worked up a lather, then slowly began cleansing me of the dirt, the blood, and its tang, but perhaps more. Perhaps with his tenderness, he began washing away a small bit of the horror and trauma of this sun.
He picked up with the next verse of the lullaby he’d begun as he worked:
You've been playin' soldier, the battle has been won,
The enemy is out of sight,
Come along there, soldier, put away your sword,
The war is over for tonight . . .
Time to stop your schemin', time your day was through,
Can't you hear the trumpet softly say?
Time you should be dreamin',
Little man, you've had a busy day . . .
He began the lullaby over again as he started on my wings. So gentle, never seductive, just steady, thorough. They’d be cleaner than they’d been in forever.
The water had cooled by the time he finished, and a chill shook me as he helped me stand, then wrapped me in a large, fluffy towel, and lifted me out of the tub. He didn’t ask if I felt any better, just let me be as I dried off and slipped into another white robe that had been left for me, then fished in the pocket of my leathers and handed me my aunt’s medallion. I held it tightly as their words echoed in my mind—use it when you most need it. I didn’t know if I’d botched what they’d intended, but just having it—having a part of them—with me provided a small measure of comfort.
Kovis emerged from the bathroom only long enough to request more hot water and plant a soft kiss on my lips. He assured me he wouldn’t be long.
I placed the piece in the robe’s pocket and rubbed it as I wandered about the room examining the dream catchers that Selova decorated the space with. A tree had been woven into the circle of the one I stood before. Beads adorned the threads that hung long, representing roots. Another had three circles joined at two common points to make a ball from which beads and feathers hung. I stopped before several others, but the theme was the same—mortals believed they helped them dream. How I wished I could summon a new reality with such a simple trinket. If only.
After distracting myself for as long as I could, I retreated back to the couch, sat down, and drew my feet up under me. Alfreda hadn’t moved and still stared vacantly into the darkness—Kennan wouldn’t be getting any sleep this night. JT, Velma’s charge, wouldn’t either—I feared what would happen to him, whoever and wherever in Veritas he was.
How was Selova doing? I’d danced around this worry, successfully beating it from my mind until now, but it refused to be silenced anymore. I joined my sister in staring out the window.
And so began my wait in earnest.
Kovis found me—wrapped in a white robe of his own—and sat down beside me. Despite his comfort, the night was unbearably long not knowing anything about Velma’s condition. My only consolation was that if Selova had failed, she surely would have come to tell us. Perhaps no news was good news. At some point, Sandrin offered us something to eat, but I declined. I had no appetite. He had no news yet.
The sky was just pinking when I overheard the steward open the door. “This way,” he said.
I turned.
Wynnfrith cried out, “Alfreda.” She rushed to embrace my sister, who still stared blankly out the window. Deor, Farfelee, Ailith, Beval, all my sisters and Mema were close on her heels. Through it all, Alfreda had no reaction. She submitted to the hugs but didn’t smile or in any other way acknowledge them, just sat there.
They hugged me too, and a few even embraced Kovis, but a hush fell over them at seeing Alfreda so.
Sandrin and another steward brought more chairs in, and I scooted over on the couch. Wasila’s eyes were red and puffy, but she stifled tears as she sat in a chair opposite me. Mema sat at the end, beside me on my right, Kovis on my left. Amelia, ever the nurturer, squeezed between Kovis and Alfreda, picked up her sister’s hand, and began stroking it.
All my sisters kept sneaking glances at Alfreda, not wanting to be improper, but worried all the same.
Mema broke the tension as she said, “Sandrin dispatched one of Selova’s guards to our home. The male didn’t say what had happened, just that you were here and that we should come. We stopped by your brothers’ palace on our way, but asked them to stay away lest we overwhelm our hostess. When we arrived, Sandrin explained what he knew of the situation.” She leaned forward and looked down the sofa, assessing Alfreda, who still stared, past Deor, out the pinking window.
Mema ran a jerky hand over her skirts then asked, “So what happened?”
She was unglued. Never in my life had I seen her shake, but this had done it. My sisters bit a lip, twisted their hair, rubbed their hands on their skirts, as to be expected. But Mema’s hand shook. She was our rock. I wanted to tell her to stop, to take a deep breath, to stiffen her neck like always and keep it together, but she was being as vulnerable as she’d ever allowed herself to be before us. It told me she couldn’t help it.
I reached over and squeezed her hand as I summoned my courage. Despite my efforts at composure, I didn’t get far. The tale was too fresh. I tried to talk through tears that rose, but soon choked on them.
Kovis squeezed my knee, an offer to take over the telling, and I nodded. Farfelee handed me a tissue as Kovis picked up. Wasila shrieked and began sobbing when he told about us arriving to find Velma’s wings cleaved. Deor lost her composure as he shared what we knew about Alfreda—Deor and Alfreda had been roommates for eons, and while Deor clearly didn’t know how to cope with Alfreda in her current state, they shared a close relationship.
Kovis told about my first punishment—sicking a mare on him—to gasps and looks of disbelief. He recounted my second punishment and swelled with pride at how I’d refused to allow Father to hurt Kennan, but rage filled his eyes when he spoke of the agony I’d endured as a result. As he reached the third punishment, he choked up. Only after a lengthy pause did he manage to finally get out every sordid detail.
I picked up there, telling about Dyeus finally arriving and my idea of coming here.
Shock, disbelief, disgust, dread, rage, the whole range of emotions played on my sisters’ faces throughout. Mema squeezed my hand hard at points. Did she hold herself responsible for Father’s conduct? I prayed not.
How was Selova doing? I bit my lip as the thought reasserted itself. There’d been no word despite repeated inquiries and all distractions had now expired. I took to pacing along with Deor and Wynnfrith. Mema didn’t reprimand, she just sat quietly, Bega, Eolande and Eadu taking turns giving her hugs and she they. Through it all, Alfreda never moved, and Amelia never stopped stroking her hand.
The sky was bright when Selova finally made an appearance. Her shoulders slumped, and dark circles filled the space below her eyes as she shuffled toward us. Much of her long silver hair had come loose from its confines and fell randomly on her black knit shawl. She wore no scarf.
We held our collective breaths.
She stopped behind me and forced a weary smile as she looked down at me into my eyes. “As I mentioned, I’ve never tried what you asked me to, giving life to a being other than my creations, but she responded.”
My breath hitched, and I squeezed Kovis’s leg. Did she mean what I prayed she did?
“She is alive once more.”
A collective exhale, then shrieks of joy from all my sisters, leaping up, hugging, and rejoicing. Mema closed her eyes, leaned forward, and brought a hand to her chest.
Selova smiled, truly smiled, but raised a hand. “I warned that there could be complications.”
The room became deathly silent in a heartbeat.
“I repaired her heart, but her wings… I could only make them anew. They took several hundred annums to gain their former size and will again. They are those of a newborn. I’m sorry.” Selova frowned.
Translated, Velma wouldn’t be flying for a very long time. Selova couldn’t apologize for that. Her standards were entirely too high.
I leapt up on the white cushion and wrapped my arms around her. “It doesn’t matter, you’ve given her back to us.” Tears streamed from my eyes. “Thank you so much.”
At that she drew her arms about me. “I tried so hard. I really did.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Can we see her?” Deor asked.
Everyone quieted.
“She’s resting comfortably but is not yet awake. I suppose one or two of you could go see her. She needs much rest.”
Mema stood. “Alissandra should go, and Alfreda if you’re feeling up to it.”
Alfreda didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the offer.
I sighed. “Wasila, come with me.”
“We brought you these, Ali,” Wynnfrith said, holding up a simple dress and undergarments, all neatly folded, along with a pair of shoes.
Eolande stepped toward Kovis and handed him a stack of his own—my brothers had to have donated them. Phina, ever the quiet one, placed another stack on the end table beside Alfreda, looking her over as she did. I could nearly hear her willing her sister’s recovery. Everyone watched but said not a word.