by Hannah King
“I can bring in some extra blankets,” the boy offered quickly, then added, looking sick with worry. “Are you sure she’s going to be all right?”
Wyatt nodded, and, as Wes left, he set her down on the makeshift bed. Misery was spelled plainly across her countenance. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale except for a twinge of humiliated blush, her frame weak, still dressed only in the simple nightdress, and all of her friends were crowding around her, wondering what on earth had gone wrong.
Her brown eyes were avoiding his, and after he’d carried her down seven staircases and through two buildings he didn’t blame her. Besides, he was the one that had taken her from the comforting room in the citadel and back down to a room fit only for beggars.
“I’m sorry,” he heard himself saying, surprising himself for speaking to her at all. How many times had she heard those words within the last few days? Her eyes flicked toward him a moment, tortured, but strong, beautiful even, he admitted. With a few express commands to the servants, he turned away and walked out, unable to stand the commotion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WES
WES LEANED AGAINST the courtyard wall, exhausted. He’d seen Fina again the night before last and he had told her about Byrne. She’d wept with him, grieved with him. They’d embraced each other. Horrible as it was, he had finally felt free, able to mourn with someone else who understood, someone who felt the pain as he did.
The tears that had streamed down his face in the comfort of Fina’s arms had broken down the feeble wall he’d built, and for the first time in months, he’d felt like himself again. But now, that feeling of relief was clouded over with a new set of worries.
He took a deep breath. Talitha had returned last night, with no explanation. She’d looked like hell. Everyone had crowded around her with questions she hadn’t the strength to answer, but Captain Gray had thrown them out of the room, insisting that no one could see Talitha until the next day.
“Don’t be alarmed, she’s already on her way to recovery,” the Ambassador had said when he’d brought her. Recovery from what? What could have happened in the citadel that would make someone as strong as Talitha look so weak and helpless?
“Wes?”
He looked up. Cora was walking toward him, her serious brown eyes looking determined. He suddenly felt stiff and awkward, remembering the night they’d danced.
“I’m going to see Talitha. Do you want to come?” she asked.
He nodded.
They were both heartened when they reached the room and saw Talitha sitting up against some blanket rolls with a small tray of food in front of her. She offered a faint smile of greeting as her friends entered. Wes hesitated, anxious not to bother her, but Cora marched straight to her bedside and squeezed her hand.
“Hey,” Talitha greeted them weakly. Her skin was the color of paste and her hair hung in limp, tangled strands around her, but she looked happy to see them.
“Doing better?” Cora asked, her soft, low voice was so comforting.
“I guess,” she said. “I’m starting to feel like getting out of this bed,” she added. “I honestly thought I’d never feel that way,” she laughed lightly. Wes and Cora looked at each other, sure that laughter of any kind was a good sign.
“What happened Tali?” Cora asked the question that had echoed over and over again the night before with no answer. “You really scared us, coming in like that last night.”
Talitha squeezed her eyes shut, as if the light was too bright for a moment, then opened them.
“You don’t have to tell us,” Wes jumped in.
She shook her head weakly. “I would. It’s just that...I can’t really tell you. I don’t know where I’d start,” her forehead creased in concentration. “I don't even know if I'm allowed to,” she added haltingly.
“But, are you all right? The nurses won’t speak to us. The Ambassador said you’d fainted, that, you’d be all right, but you look like you’ve been through more than that,” Cora worried.
Talitha seemed to consider Cora’s words for a little while. “I’m all right,” she replied simply. “I think I’ll be out of bed soon. Just weak from hunger I think.”
She resumed picking at the tray in front of her with a frown. “They only give me gruel. I wish they’d send me some meat.”
Wes’ sympathy grew even stronger for his friend. “I’ll bring you my lunch portion when the wagons come,” he said excitedly. Her face lit up at the idea, and Wes determined to fulfill the promise, even if it meant going without lunch.
“You look like you could use some meat to make you stronger,” Cora admitted. “Are you sure it won’t be too much for your stomach?”
Talitha shook her head with more energy than she’d expressed since they’d arrived. “I swear I can keep it down.”
Cora looked at her skeptically but relented. It was worth a try, and both of them felt that refusing their woeful-looking friend anything would be a sort of sin.
When the rumble of the first lunch wagon could be heard, the two friends hurried out to get in line before portions dwindled. The meal was a dark stew, filled with bits of onions and tough pieces of beef. After filling their plates high and taking the stale pieces of bread offered to them, they returned to Talitha.
Carefully, Cora helped her sit up a little further while Wes set the steaming plate in front of her, ignoring the grumbles of his own stomach. Tali’s eyes stared hungrily at the food, and taking the wooden spoon in hand, she began to help herself with little trouble.
“Slowly, Tali, slowly,” Cora urged, but it was in vain.
“My nurses will be back to see me in an hour and they’ll fuss if they see me eating this,” she argued, relishing the thin but savory gravy. Despite their concern, she managed to keep it down and looked much improved after the meal.
“Thanks,” she said, passing the dish back to Wes. He nodded and collected it.
“Where’s Captain Tratis?” she asked suddenly, a cloud passing over her features.
“Still back at the citadel I imagine,” Wes answered, “Why?”
“Oh,” she said. “I guess I thought he’d be back here,” she puzzled.
“Not yet, but, I’ll tell you the moment he returns,” he promised. Inside it was killing him how little he knew. Cora’s eyes were full of questions too, but the friends knew better than to press her. They would have to endure the mystery a little while longer. The truth would come out eventually, either through the leads or through rumors.
“You should rest after eating all that,” Wes suggested. She agreed and they helped her settle back onto her makeshift pillows. Once she was comfortable, they tiptoed away.
“What did they do to her? She looks almost crazed,” Cora whispered as soon as they were out of hearing. “I hate this place,” she shivered. “I wish we’d never stepped foot in Leida.”
She passed her full plate to him and took the empty plate he’d been carrying. He started to protest.
“It’s yours. I don’t want it,” she insisted. She pressed the spoon into his hand.
“Least have a little bit,” he argued. “There’s enough here for both of us.” But Cora wasn’t hungry.
TALITHA
After they’d left, I stared into the distance. They knew so little. I wondered if I’d ever be able or allowed to answer their questions. Then my mind returned to my own questions.
What had become of the possible alliance with Leida? Would they let me try again? Make me try again? I shuddered. I didn’t want to. I’d rather die. The memory of what had happened, of what I’d felt, was horrible enough.
I had cried out for my old gloves during the illness, the thick leather ones with the stiff fingertips. They had found me a pair, and I hadn’t taken them off since. I didn’t dare.
The food Wes had brought me grumbled in my stomach, but it didn’t try to resurface. If anything, I felt a little sleepy.
My thoughts vacillated between feelings of failure and relief. If it
was over and they wouldn’t make me try again, then I wouldn’t have to see Tate or any of the Paraphrant ever again. I wouldn’t have all those terrible questions in my head about what Nurandism really was, and what it meant to bind the shazod.
But at the same time, I felt as though I’d lost something valuable. They’d all been counting on me to change the tide. I’d let my friends down, even though they might never know. I’d robbed them of the chance of taking back Cronin, of seeing Faldir’s reign ended. Robbed them of security.
Would Leida still go to war with us now that they saw I was worthless? Not likely, I decided. Either I tried again, or we were right back where we started. Deep down I knew that if I was already here, back in the Turaphelin, it was all over anyway.
Over the next few days there was still no sign of Tratis. I missed his presence, missed him answering my questions. I slept when I could and devoured whatever food and company Cora and Wes could provide me. No one else bothered me except for the slave women with their bitter spoonfuls of tonic.
One night I thought I dreamed that Lead Breiden was there, sitting beside me, singing to me just above a whisper. Maybe she was.
Other nights memories of the dark interrogation room flashed in my mind, bizarre creatures dressed like Tate and the Paraphrant surrounded me while a shazod began to choke me. I would wake up in a drenching sweat at the remembrance of the searing pain when the binding had been ripped from my mind. A slave woman would give me a drink of water and untangle the blankets I had thrashed, and then I was expected to sleep yet again.
A few mornings later, I woke up feeling stronger, refreshed even. As I came to myself, I realized for the first time in days that I had dozed without any hellish nightmares. It was late afternoon, and a new tray of food had been brought for me. I could smell it when I opened my eyes. The servants had finally brought me more than gruel. My mouth watered. I felt ravenous and suddenly very lonely and bored.
I lifted my legs a little to see how they felt. They were less like the jelly consistency they had been yesterday.
I began to eat the lunch they’d provided me, feeling stronger with every bite. Maybe, just maybe, I could walk. I knew I needed to get out of the dark room, if only to see some people, to return to something normal. There, in the bare walled room all I could think about was what had happened, and I simply couldn’t let myself think about it anymore.
Feebly, I picked my feet out from under the blankets and sat up. With some time, I felt confident that I could try to stand, and after studying my stability a moment, I attempted a few small steps around the room. These were wobbly, but successful. I suddenly had a goal in mind. I would join the others for the evening meal that night.
The day went by slowly, and I practiced walking around my room in between the nurse’s tonic visits. My stamina remained, so I gave a small amount of work and attention to my appearance.
Still no dinner horn. Tired of standing and waiting, I slipped under my covers to rest, just for a minute. I woke up with a jolt, sure that hours had gone by the moment my eyes opened to the dimming interior of the room.
I threw my covers off and stood up, fighting dizziness. I was determined. Even if I’d missed the dinner wagons, I could at least sit in the dining hall with my friends.
With a deep breath I pushed the door open and made my way down the empty corridors, but when I reached it, the dining hall was silent, the chairs pulled out, plates left half finished. The candles on the tables still burned steadily.
I heard voices and commotion coming from the outside and quickly made my way toward them. Instantly I wished I would have brought my cloak with me as I passed over the threshold into the bitterly cold air. Snow squalled across the yard in gusts.
Everyone was assembled together in the yard with cloaks pulled tightly around their shoulders, glancing at each other with questioning faces, wondering what this interruption to their dinner could mean. To the front of the crowd stood a group of Leiden soldiers, and in the center, the Ambassador. No one seemed to notice me as I slipped into the restless crowd.
“Move back and let the Ambassador speak!” a guard yelled.
The crowd hushed reluctantly, and a familiar voice traveled to my ears. I craned my neck to see.
“Sustainers, I bring you a message from our queen and our mighty Paraphrant,” the Ambassador spoke. His face was stern, his eyes cold. The breath from his restless stallion froze like smoke in the temper air.
“Your days here in Leida are coming to an end,” he announced. My heart sank. A wave of surprise rippled through the crowd but he continued.
“It is time to start planning and preparing for your journey out of our city, for it will surely bring you many challenges, and there can be no extension on the time you are given here. There are thirty days before the beginning of the season of night. At the end of these days is the Leiden City Purification, a time of cleansing for our city. In such days it will not be suitable for you to be within the city.” He raised his voice as the stunned crowd started to murmur in confusion. “You must be well on your way before the sun sets on the last day of temper. Our queen, in her kindness, will grant you rations for your journey, but you must find sanction elsewhere.”
Elsewhere? The word echoed in my head.
“That is all. Return to your evening meal,” he finished.
As if we’d have any appetite for it now, I scoffed inwardly.
He yanked the reins of his horse and turned about, trotting away. Four of the guards that had accompanied stayed behind, taking up watch in the courtyard, a sign to us that there would be no disputing what we had just heard. Later we would see an entire platoon arrive to keep watch.
Everyone slowly turned around, hardly eager to return to the dining hall. Muttered curses and darkened faces confronted me every which way I turned. The murmuring grew and a voice rose up over the crowd. Camphraz. He was striding toward one of the guards, his face red from the cold. The guard placed a hand on his hilt.
“Hell with you,” Camphraz shook his fist at the man, daring to step a little closer. “You’re cowards aren’t you? All of you, fat, greedy cowards! You think you can sit back with no consequences? Live like kings while people suffer? That’s right, you want to help…So long as none of your fine clothes get sullied! So long as you don’t have to venture anywhere without a hot bath and a bar of soap!”
“Shut it Camphraz,” Ayla said with gritted teeth. I saw the outcome if he went further, even clearer than she did. My tone was sharp, like a bark almost.
“Get back Camphraz, go inside!”
I looked around in a panic. Where were our leaders? I knew the leads and all captains had already moved inside to discuss solutions, but there were plenty of commanders and squad leaders standing around, letting Camphraz mouth off.
They were angry too, I knew, their faces cold and hardened, still trying to grasp that everything they’d hoped for had been wrestled from them. But was it worth letting Camphraz get arrested? Or killed? My mind flashed back to the noose in the chamber, spurring me toward my next action.
I approached him from behind and with all my strength, pulled him back by his belt. He slipped in the snow easily, not having expected trouble from behind him. He jumped back up, but I placed myself between him and the guard.
“Go inside,” I repeated.
His nostrils flared. “Trying to help again, Tali?” he asked with a cold glint in his eye. I swallowed hard but held the stare. He turned around with a dismissive gesture, sauntering away from me with his head held high. My eyes flicked to Ayla, but her gaze darted away from mine. I took a deep breath, feeling the stares of hundreds and wanting more than anything to run back inside.
My head spun. He knew. Somehow rumors had spread and Camphraz knew that this was my fault.
“It’s freezing out here,” I heard myself say, and slowly, dizzily walked back to the shelter. The others began to file into the building, returning to finish the now cold food on their plates. I’d almost d
ecided that I would wait until the next morning to eat, desperately wanting to be away from everyone again, but I felt a gentle tap on my arm.
“Captain?”
Cora. The only person who could call me that without a thick layer of sarcasm spread onto the word.
“Come sit with me, I saved some food for you,” she whispered.
I nodded, only because I was too tired to argue with her. My body was still shaking from the cold outside.
“Wait by the fire while I get it ok?” she half ordered me. I wandered blindly over to the blaze and tried to warm myself.
When she came back, I stopped her, plate in hand.
“What do they know...about everything?” I whispered.
“Just gossip, rumors,” she responded, her brown eyes full of sympathy. “All worse than the truth.”
Maybe not, I thought grimly. She didn’t know the truth.
Cora sighed. “They’ll get over it, especially now that you’re here. Everyone’s just upset. They’re tired of running, and, we let ourselves get drunk with the idea that maybe we wouldn’t have to anymore.”
They have to shift the blame to someone, don’t they? And Tratis is still in the citadel, I thought. When would he come back? Had he abandoned us? Decided to stay in his own homeland, safe and comfortable?
“Ignore them for now,” Cora advised, leading me back to the table and setting a plate down in front of me. “I’m just happy to see you up and about. We were really scared when they first brought you back here.”
I tried to focus, tried to bring myself to eat, but I found myself staring into the distance.
Thirty days, I fumed. Our options were suddenly worse than they’d ever been, even before Leida. If they could have just let us stay a little longer, until after the season of night, there was a higher chance of survival. By color or pel we’d be stronger, healthier, gifted with light and warmth to discover our path and avoid enemies.
Instead we would have to pick our way around in the pitch black for weeks as the earth slowly warmed itself. There would be deep mud, cold weather, and hungry animals on the hunt. The use of torches or fire would only alert scouts to our whereabouts.