Chapter 3 #2
As I stare at the destruction I’ve caused, I can feel the way it’s draining the heat from the room. There’s no way this is a type of power I can allow anyone in the High Hold to learn about.
‘M’lady?’ Summer’s voice calls from outside the room. ‘Is everything okay?’
The door handle twists and I dart across the room, blocking the door before she can step inside.
‘I heard a noise,’ the maid says through the door.
‘Yes, yes. I … I …’ My brain scrambles for an answer. ‘I was training.’
‘Training?’ Confusion lilts in her tone.
‘Just habit from the Retterheld. You know, so I stay fit.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it.’
As I hear her footsteps trail down the hallway, a sigh of relief rattles from me and I glance back up at the crack in the wall, which seems to be stable.
That’s something, at least. Still, I can’t leave it like this.
Inspiration strikes when I see an ivy plant nearby, and I use my magic to call to it, to make it grow and twine into the crack and surrounding masonry.
At a glance, it will look as if the plant caused the damage, not the illegal ice magic which sprang from my fingers.
Despite the barefaced lie to Summer, or perhaps because of it, I find myself struck with a definite urge to begin training.
My room is certainly large enough that I have space to start my day with footwork drills.
As I said to Summer, the Retterheld is over and done, but I have no intention of letting the skills I built there slide.
Besides, moving is good. It gives me something else to focus on and slows the brain, and I need that now more than ever.
With my eyes closed, I allow my mind to be transported back to those early mornings in the battle yard, remembering the drills that Zelle pushed me through again and again. As my feet move through the motions, it’s as if I can hear the late commander’s corrections.
Feel Kyor’s hands on me, adjusting my stance.
I may be on my own, but I don’t go easy on myself. After the forms, I work on my strength, doing push-ups, crunches, and squats using a jug of water as a weight.
And a four-poster bed, it turns out, is great for pull-ups and chin dips. Only when my body is slick with sweat and my breath is coming in wheezes do I stop to wash myself for the day.
Showering under hot water is one luxury I will never take for granted again. The pure pleasure of standing beneath a steady stream of heat and letting it sluice away the grime of a workout is a type of satisfying delight that even the adversities of the day before cannot strip from me.
Steam fogs the air as I scrub myself clean, grounding myself in the simple fact that I am here. That I am still standing. I am surviving. As I always do.
That fact is undeniable. Rose Kultavaris is a survivor.
Even if it feels like I am shattering, I will not break. I will not, damn it.
Pulling on fresh, clean clothes feels like another small luxury.
I forgot the feeling of soft fabric against my skin, untainted by blood or sweat.
In the last few days of the Retterheld, we all took to wearing our clothes constantly, even to bed, so we were ready when that damned bell sounded.
I never imagined I would meet the Goddess in crusty clothes, but it was what it was.
For a few precious minutes, I can almost pretend that the world has not cracked open around me. Literally.
I go downstairs to the kitchen and sit at the long table that once upon a time held my family.
But I turn away from the memories and make small talk with Summer while she cooks a ridiculous volume of breakfast. Whether she is the type of young woman who is not a fan of silence or is trying to fill it for my sake, I cannot tell, but she chatters away, telling me inconsequential stories from her past, and I let her natter on, grateful for the normality of it.
Grateful for anything that keeps me anchored to the moment and keeps my thoughts from spiralling back to all I learned the night before.
When breakfast is nearly ready, I leave Summer to lay it out in the dining room and head up to the room that used to be Kay’s. I hope that perhaps she slipped in without me noticing, but though the bed is made up, it has clearly not been slept in.
Trying to quash my disappointment at my sister’s absence, I make my way to the dining room, where the table is now laden with food. I sit just as the door chimes again. My heart leaps. At least Kay came back in time for breakfast.
‘I’ll get it!’ I call to Summer as I run to answer the door in a most unladylike manner. Certain it will be Kay ready to reconcile our differences, I throw open the door, only for my expression to drop.
‘Oh,’ I say, unable to hide my disappointment.
Benny – Earl of the Eastern Isles, to give him his proper title – grins, unperturbed by my lacklustre greeting. ‘Well, good to see you too, Rosey. Any chance I can come in? It’s a little wet out here.’
He’s not wrong. It is pouring with rain, the droplets bouncing on the slabs of stone on the street. I look up at the peridot-tinged clouds and clench my jaw.
Kyor.
He’s making it rain.
Pounding anger throbs behind my temples. How dare he act like the wounded party here when I was the one who had my heart broken?
I hope he can’t even look at himself in the mirror.
Gritting my teeth against the rage that is suddenly ripping through me, I step back and let Benny in. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter. ‘I thought you were going to be Kay,’ I tell him. ‘She didn’t stay here last night.’
‘She was probably celebrating until the early hours,’ he says, a yawn catching his face. ‘As I was. I celebrated hard for you, Rose.’
An unexpected smile rises on my lips. ‘What a good friend you are,’ I say drily.
Benny grins. ‘Aren’t I? I wanted to check you were okay before I left. Those clouds outside have a familiar colour, and I thought it might have something to do with why you left your own party so damn sharpish.’
Fuck Kyor and his inclement pity party, I think before the first part of Benny’s statement penetrates my skull. ‘You’re leaving?’ I say, my breath hitching as I spin back to face him. ‘Already?’
His broad grin drops away, and his eyes are sad as they hold mine. Reluctance is in every line of his frame. He doesn’t want to leave me either. ‘Yeah, I am. I’m due to catch a boat this evening. This is my last day on the mainland. I need to get back home. Obligations. Things to do.’
‘Do these things have to do with the fact that no one from the Isles won the Retterheld?’
‘Possibly …’ he admits sadly. He scrapes a smile onto his face and makes an effort to shake the melancholy away before it seizes him.
‘I’m so proud of you, Rose. A little jealous, yes, but damned proud.
’ With a tilt of his head, he scans me up and down.
‘To be honest, I thought you’d be looking a bit happier. ’
I offer a wan smile. ‘Yeah, me too.’
‘You want to talk about it?’ he asks. ‘I have time. I’m not Llin, but I reckon I can nod in the right places. Tell you what dicks men are. Myself excluded, obviously.’