Chapter 7 #3
As I walk back to my room, I alternate between feeling proud of myself for refusing Alayel’s offer, and upset that I had to refuse it.
I mean, I could just have taken the room and not slept with him.
Not that sleeping with him sounds bad. And that’s the problem: had I stayed in his quarters, I don’t know if I would have resisted him.
And then, after that, I’m sure he’d kick me out and humiliate me.
So I’m proud of saying no. But there’s a part of me thinking that maybe he likes me, and even if he doesn’t like me, it surely doesn’t hurt to be close to the prince.
The issue is that I don’t want favors. I don’t want to depend on Alayel’s whims. I want to carve my own place in this kingdom, and make sure it’s due to my merit.
I earned the entry into this academy. Why does Alayel make it seem that he’s doing me some big favor by letting me attend classes?
My steps slow. He said that he did try. I place a hand over my chest. He even gave me this key. But what if it’s a lie?
That’s the answer as to why I need to stay away from him: my mind’s too confused to make any decision, especially one that I could regret.
The third door to the left of the dormitory is locked.
I insert the so-called master key into the hole, unsure if it will do anything.
To my surprise, the lock clicks open and I enter a small, windowless room with a single bed, a drawer chest, and a writing desk, lit by a tiny lumos jar with a cover beside it.
The room is clean and the bed has covers, a pillow, and sheets. Not bad at all except for the absence of windows, but comfortable enough. I’m not sure how I’m going to wake up tomorrow, but at least I have a place to sleep.
I exhale a long breath, glad I didn’t stay in Alayel’s quarters, then proceed to empty my bag of the few possessions I brought: some clothes, a nightgown, hair accessories, brushes.
There’s even a small roll of bread that I think Laristella put there.
I eat it, wondering if I’m about to miss the stern Grease & Spice owner.
I do wonder how things are going there, and if my brother is enjoying having the room to himself.
Everything is so confusing here that I don’t even know when I’ll be allowed to visit him.
My breath falters. I don’t know if I’ll get paid anything, and if I’ll be able to help him get an apprenticeship. I close my eyes, annoyed at the unfairness of it all.
Getting angry won’t help. What might help is getting washed.
I grab a dress and some underwear and head to the hallway.
Rosalia said there were bathing chambers and pots outside, so they must be somewhere around here.
In the hallway, I try to use my sense of smell to find the bathing chambers, but my nose feels blocked.
Even the scent of the stones on the wall and marble on the floor is minimal, and I assume I must have a cold or something.
After checking a linen closet and a room full of buckets, I find the right door. The washroom is a simple space with stalls, soaps, and pitchers next to a large water container.
I take a pitcher, a basin, a cloth, some soap, and go to one of the stalls, where I peel off that uniform that feels strange over my skin, as if I was pretending to be something I’m not.
I pour some water over my body and notice that my marks are gone. Completely gone, as if I had never been wounded. Strangely, I miss them. They were the only physical proof that I didn’t hallucinate my experience on the island.
Two women enter the washroom, chitchatting happily about a trip to the Outer Beach, mentioning some friends and potential lovers.
At least they’re finding joy here. I wait for them to finish and leave before getting out of my stall.
For some reason I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone, to have to explain who I am, where I belong, where I sleep.
Everything’s such a mess. At least I’m wearing my clean dress, even if I’m carrying the uniform back to my gloomy room.
Insanely gloomy—and lonely. Perhaps what makes my chest crack is that I was hoping to find belonging, to find my people here. Instead, I’m in this odd limbo where I belong nowhere.
Take advantage of your anonymity, Mayara. You’re as good as invisible.
It’s Alayel’s voice coming to my head, reminding me that he might have orchestrated all this to make me spy for him. I don’t even want to unearth any secrets, I just…
That door by the auditorium comes to mind, calling me, pulling me—or maybe that’s the excuse I’m giving myself to go there. Excuse or not, I change back into the cleaning crew uniform and go down the stairs.
I thought it would take me a few tries to get to the correct level, but no.
I find it right away. Guards patrol the area, but they pay me no mind, perhaps because I keep my steps firm and my pace steady as if I was on an assignment.
It doesn’t make sense, of course. Why would I be cleaning anything at night?
But I guess they don’t know—or don’t care.
The door is right there, small and inconspicuous, probably leading to some storage area.