Halvor shuffled forward, leaving the door ajar. He wouldn’t quite meet my stunned gaze, looking instead at the bread I’d picked back up and clutched into crumbs in my hand. His hair was unkempt, sticking almost straight out on one side, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “I tried to convince her to let you out.” He stared straight down at the ground now, his hair flopping forward to obstruct my view of his face. “But when she realized I’d taken the book out of the library … she said my punishment would be to know your suffering would last even longer. I—I’m sorry.” Halvor’s voice cracked and he stopped abruptly.
“This is not your fault,” I immediately reassured him.
His shoulders lifted slightly then dropped again. “It’s at least partially my fault. I was the one trying to sneak around the citadel that night—I was the one who took the book with me. And Inara … I know what she means to you, and I … I—”
“Sami said she’s fine,” I interjected at the same moment he admitted, “It’s my fault she got hurt.”
My mouth snapped shut audibly and I could only stare at the top of his head as he continued to study his boots.
Finally I managed, “You hurt her?”
“No!” Halvor finally looked up, shocked into lifting his eyes to mine. “I would never—not on purpose!” His denial was immediate and so vehement, I believed him. “I picked my lock and snuck out at night. I was going to help you—I intended to pick your lock and get you some food and water. But I got the door wrong.”
I listened silently, horrified to realize my mother had locked him in his room as well. Was it just at night or this whole time? He didn’t look starved … but sleep deprived, certainly.
“When I opened it, Inara was already there. She pushed past me—repeating your name over and over, like she had been all day before your mother made Sami lock her in her room. She was so loud, I was afraid she’d wake your mother … I tried to reach for her, tried to tell her to be quiet, but she was frightened of me. She ran away—right for the stairs. I yelled for her to stop, but she was staring back at me, her eyes so wide—so scared—and she didn’t see the stairs—” His voice broke again and he cut himself off to clear his throat.
I shook my head, horror blooming like a wound in my chest. “Sami said she was fine. She said—she promised!” This time when I threw off my covers, there was no one to stop me.
“She is—Zuhra, it’s all right—she—”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. Ignoring the rush of wooziness when I stood, I stumbled forward, pushing past him. Sami had lied to me—she’d sent him here to tell me the truth, to tell me that while I’d been locked in here, half-delirious with a fever, Inara had fallen down the stairs and—
Then Sami was there, standing in the doorway. “Zuhra! Why are you out of bed?”
Sami’s frustrated exclamation echoed dully through my brain. I only had eyes for my sister—for Inara, who stood directly behind Sami, well and whole.
I collapsed to my knees, dry sobs ripping through my chest.
“Zuhra, I’m sorry—you didn’t let me finish.” Halvor was there, crouching beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders, trying to help me to stand. But I just stared at Inara, my gaze roaming over her body, looking for injury—for bruises or cuts or any sign of what had befallen her.
“Zuhra … Zu Zu…” She tilted her head, looking at me, not through me.
“I’m here, Nara. I’m here.” I clutched Halvor’s proffered hand and clambered unsteadily to my feet. Sami guided her toward me until she was close enough that I could touch her. Though I risked spooking her, I lifted my hand to her face. Instead of yanking away as she often did, she merely gazed at me, her blue-fire eyes trained on mine.
“Zu Zu,” she repeated softly, pressing her cheek into my hand, and I began to silently cry.
“I’m sorry, Nara. I’m so sorry,” I whispered brokenly—for leaving her against my will, for allowing her to fall down those stairs, for whatever else had happened to her while I’d been locked away.
“Zuhra, there’s more,” Halvor spoke softly from beside me, his hand still encircling my arm to help hold me steady. “When she fell … she did get hurt. It was her left leg … it was bad. She couldn’t stand up.”
Even though she stood before me at that very moment, obviously fine, my heart still constricted as if his words were a vise squeezing it too tightly. “I—I don’t—”
“She has more power than just helping plants grow,” Halvor rushed on as I stared into her burning eyes. “Zuhra … your sister healed herself.”
* * *
“She was lucid for eight hours?”
Halvor nodded, somehow looking thrilled and miserable all at once, as if he knew how much it would pain me to know she’d been there—she’d been herself—for the longest period of time in her entire life and I’d been locked in here, completely unaware. “The rest of the night and most of this morning. She is still somewhat there, but it’s slowly getting worse again.”
That explained why she’d said my name, looked directly at me. But nothing more. I nodded, unable to speak over the thickness of gathering tears in my throat. I blinked hard, attempting to hold it back. My mind skipped over the surface of the thought that I could have had eight hours with Inara, unable to truly delve into that realization because it threatened to break me apart. What would we have talked about—what could we have done? I’d never had more than a couple of hours with her, and even that was so rare. Halvor—this virtual stranger—had probably been able to get to know her better in that one night than I had in our entire lifetime.
We sat at the small table near the window in my room, the door still open so we could hear if Mother approached. Inara had started getting agitated in the small space, and Sami had taken her back outside to her plants, promising to do all she could to keep Mother distracted for as long as possible so Halvor and I could talk uninterrupted about everything that had occurred. I was grateful for the time to prepare myself to face her—I still didn’t know what I would say, what I would do.
“Are you sure she couldn’t stand—that her leg was…”
“Broken,” he finished. “Yes. I’m positive.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“Will it make you more upset to hear the details? Or would it help?”
I was quiet for a moment, looking down at the now empty mug sitting between us. “Why are you still here?” I asked instead, not sure if I could handle hearing about Inara’s fall and what suffering she must have endured—even though it obviously had a happy resolution. A miraculous resolution. “I saw the gate—the hedge had receded—and you were gone. I watched from my window.”
He blinked at my sudden change in topic. “The hedge seems to be toying with me. It recedes whenever I am too far away to reach the gate, but as soon as I come near enough to attempt leaving, it closes over again—so fast I have no hope of getting through in time,” Halvor explained. “By the time you looked out your window, I must have already returned to the citadel.”
“Oh.”
“Do you wish I had gone? I was under the impression that you felt … otherwise.”
He was right—I had made it very clear I’d wanted him to stay. But for some reason, I felt betrayed. Not because he was still there, but because I hadn’t known. Because I had spent hours mourning his loss and missing my sister; when in reality, I should have been comforted by the fact that he would be there when I was finally released from my sentence and fearing for my sister’s safety far more than I’d even realized.
And I was struggling to contain my irrational anger that he’d been the one to get all the time with Inara, instead of me.
“Of course not,” I finally answered. “I’m glad you’re still here … I’m having a hard time taking it all in, though.”
Halvor nodded, looking down at his clasped hands resting on the polished wood of the table.
We were silent for a long moment, thoughts and questions darting t
hrough my mind one after another. And then I remembered what he said about Mother taking away the book.
“Did you get to read any of it—before she took it away?” Perhaps he’d been able to at least find out something useful. Perhaps there was a way to reach Inara—to help her stay with me longer—other than a potentially catastrophic injury.
Halvor shook his head. “No. She noticed it in my pocket when I had to return to the citadel. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
I tried to hide my disappointment by drumming my fingers on the table, the only sound as yet another uncomfortable silence descended.
“I won’t tell you the details if you don’t want to hear them,” he finally blurted out, rushing to speak before I could protest, “but you should know she kept asking for you. She wished to see you desperately. At first we were too busy trying to help Inara to think of getting you, but then, once she healed … and was lucid … We begged your mother to let you out—to let you speak with your sister. But she refused. She said nothing would make you realize how serious she was than to make you miss that time with Inara.” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the chair, his face flushing as if he’d been the one to make such a cruel choice. “And I … I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry. For all of it.”
I had to blink back tears again, but I nodded. “Thank you … for trying. And I’m sorry too. Sorry that you’re trapped here with us … with her.”
Halvor hesitantly placed his hand on top of mine. The touch was a jolt, a wave of sensation that started where his fingers brushed my fingers, and washed up my arm to the rest of my body. “We’ll find a way—together. We’ll figure out how to help Inara. Now that we know her power can be used for more than just growing plants, we can experiment, find other ways to help clear her mind.”
“You’re not suggesting that we purposely hurt her.” I yanked my hand back, horrified.
“No!” Halvor blanched, jerking in his chair as if I’d slapped him. “I would never … You must know that I could no more intentionally cause Inara harm than I would willingly hurt myself. I meant only that we could try other things. Besides her plants. That’s all.”
I flushed at the almost reverential way he said her name, at the look of pure dismay that crossed his face at the mere thought of what I’d suggested he intended. My own stomach sank and I didn’t put my hands back on the table.
He liked her.
And not just as an interesting specimen for a scholar to study.
“What did you talk about? Were you with her the whole time she was lucid? Did my mother stay and speak with her at all?”
Halvor looked relieved at the turn in conversation, at my nonchalant tone. If he only realized the amount of control I had to expend to maintain that nonchalance as he dove into story after story of what he and Inara and Sami had spoken of during the time her mind was clear. How she’d tried to explain to them, as she had to me, what it was like when her power took over. How he’d told her all about losing his parents and his subsequent life at the library. His long journey to come to the citadel. How Inara had thanked Sami for her years of service—that she was aware of it, even if she couldn’t show it normally.
Halvor explained that even though she could finally speak with her daughter, my mother had only stayed for a brief time. He told me that Inara had begged Mother to let me out but had been refused and then when Inara had asked Mother to explain why this had happened to her—what the power meant—that my mother had looked stricken and immediately left. He told me how at first they hadn’t understood why her mind had cleared, only that she couldn’t move because of the terrible pain, but within minutes, the pain diminished and she slowly regained the use of her leg and they realized what was happening—how they’d all cried at first, and then laughed. They’d played games. Games. Halvor and my sister had talked and shared stories and played games for hours and hours and hours.
And I’d been here, in the room next to hers, completely unaware.
I listened to him relay all of this to me, and I smiled and laughed at the appropriate places, even as I crumbled inside.
“She healed quite rapidly, but she said it felt like her leg was on fire at first,” Halvor was saying when the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall made us both pause and turn.
“What does he think he’s going to accomplish?”
“I’m not sure, but he refuses to go.”
I looked to Halvor in confusion. They couldn’t possibly be talking about him, could they? Before I could ask, Mother stormed into my room, her steely gaze skipping right past me to land on Halvor, Sami on her heels.
“That man is out there causing a ruckus again. He refuses to leave unless you come out and speak with him.”
Halvor pushed back his chair to stand. “Master Barloc?”
I stood as well, a blanket around my shoulders to ward off any lingering chills, my legs slightly less wobbly after the additional toast and tea that Sami had brought me. In fact, now that the initial nausea had passed, I was ravenous and fairly certain my fever had broken.
“Please go explain to him again that we are not holding you here captive.” She gestured at the open doorway, clearly expecting him to obey.
“Of course.” Halvor pushed a hand through his unruly hair, tossing an apologetic look back as he quickly did as she bade.
Once he’d gone, I sucked in a deep breath, a tumult of words and anger that had been banked for hours having risen the moment I heard her voice coming toward us in the hallway. But all that came out was a strangled “How could you?”
She wouldn’t meet my gaze; instead, she stood stiffly by the door, her chin lifted slightly, the tendons in her neck flexing when she swallowed once, her teeth visibly clenched. Sami’s gaze swiveled between us, blanching as the silence drew out, growing heavier by the second.
“How could you?” I shouted.
Mother finally turned to me, her eyes blazing, but her lips bloodless. “I hope you have finally learned to leave all of that alone” was all she said, and then without another word—but what had I expected, an apology?—she spun on her heel to leave.
And all that fury, all those teeth in my belly, born of anger, born of desperation, born of a shout, and a thud, and a scream, and a locked door, reared up within me, and lashed out before I could swallow it back down. “I hate you,” I spat, just before she made it through the open door.
I actually saw the impact of my words, her whole body flinched as if I truly had ripped into her with teeth and nails, and not just vitriol. But she didn’t pause, didn’t turn, didn’t respond. She merely marched away, the clack clack clack of her shoes on the stones the only sound beyond the wild pounding in my ears.
As quickly as the rage had come, with her departure it drained out of me, leaving me empty and shaken … and ashamed.
Did I hate my mother? Hot tears burned in my eyes and acidic guilt burned in my gut. Despite everything, the truth was no. I didn’t. But it didn’t matter, because now she believed that I did. And I didn’t know how to fix it—or if I even should.
A squeak of a shoe on stone reminded me that Sami still stood there, that she’d witnessed my viciousness, a cruelness I hadn’t even realized I was capable of.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered at last, swiping at my cheeks.
There was a pause when I feared she would reprimand me—a verbal lashing that I certainly deserved. But instead, she merely said, “I know.”
I turned, her familiar face wavering in front of me. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” she repeated, and then with a soft sigh said, “Zuhra … your mother has made mistakes in her life, and you have borne the brunt of some of them. But she does love you. Though she handles it in ways we disagree with, she does these things because she’s afraid. She’s hurting—and has been for a long time. She believes she’s trying to protect you.”
I couldn’t hold her gaze and instead looked down to the ground where my toes peeked out fro
m underneath my dress—the one I’d worn for the duration of my punishment. How could I be so miserable and yet still so angry all at once? I hadn’t meant to say that to her—but I was still mad about what she’d done. About what had happened to Inara.
“Why don’t I help you get cleaned up,” Sami offered when I didn’t respond. She stepped close enough to press the back of her hand to my forehead again. “Thankfully the fever has broken,” she announced. “I think a warm bath will do the trick nicely. I always feel like a new person after bathing.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, still looking down.
She bustled over to my dresser and then clucked disapprovingly. “That man doesn’t know when to quit.”
I glanced up to see her looking toward the window as she pulled out one of my dresses—a dark green one I had spent hours trimming with black lace that she’d brought back from one of the rare times she’d left the citadel for the village—and then walked over to where I stood.
“Who?”
“It’s his master. He’s been coming and shouting at us until young Master Roskery goes out to speak with him through the hedge.”
“Master Barloc?”
Sami nodded as she helped unbutton my dress and pull it off. My arms were still a bit shaky when I tried to do it on my own. The dress was stale and crumpled from all the time I’d spent in bed. Her nose wrinkled. “Why don’t you wrap up in this clean blanket while I go fetch some water for you to bathe?”
My face heated to think that Halvor had been sitting so near to me as I took the proffered blanket from Sami and wrapped it around my body. She gingerly lifted my dress and then stripped my bed as well. “I’ll just wash these right up for you. It will be lovely to sleep in clean sheets tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You don’t have to do that—I can come help you—”
“I’m happy to. It’s the least I can do after…” She trailed off, her arms tightening around the bundle of sheets. “You just stay here and I’ll be back soon.”
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