10. Raya
RAYA
“…Broken rib, scratches, cuts, and bruises. Oddly, she was covered in scorch marks.”
- ELIJAH’S MEDICAL JOURNAL.
Iwoke alone, my skin feeling dull and rough against the foreign sheets beneath me. My body remained rigid, afraid to move even an inch. Memories from the previous day and night swirled together like dye in water. I remembered Alias falling, his life so close to being taken. I remembered the rapid fluttering beating against my skin and the feeling of eruption, of blinding lightning and fire and power. I remember Jala’s taunts, the ice water and the choice between my people and my person.
Then nothing but darkness until my body was hauled from the ground to a carriage, to this room where I had remained ever since.
I had no idea how or when I arrived in this foreign place. Where was Alias? His screams lingered in my mind, branded onto my soul. His cries of anguish and loss will live inside me forever. Had Jala kept him safe as she promised? Would he come for me? Another question lingered, louder than all the others. Was he afraid of me?
The stiff sheets struggled against my weak body as I sat up, stars swam in my vision and my head ached softly. The room was dark, dawn had yet to break over the horizon. But my world no longer contained the blues, greys, and whites of the foothills.
Everything seemed creamy and warm, wrapped in deep purples, oranges, golds, pinks, and red. A soft breeze blew in from the open window, grazing my skin softly. I sighed, tilting my head to the sides and stretching my arms, pushing the rising panic down into my stomach. Everything was fine, everything would be okay.
I looked over, noticing the matches and lantern resting there. Had someone been here? Whilst I was sleeping? Striking it hesitantly I lit a match, the lantern, and then various lonesome candles around the spacious but cozy room. Large floor to ceiling bookshelves crowded together in one corner and a rocking chair sat in another. The bed was big, big enough for three people comfortably. I glared at my reflection in the round mirror above the dressing table. The skin beneath my eyes was dark and limp, I looked half dead.
I felt it too.
I swept around the rest of the room. Simple but clean bathing chambers, and a gilded armoire stuffed with dresses, trousers, and tunics.
Six moon cycles would pass quickly, no doubt Jala would try to have me killed after my work, but I could get away. Deliver what she wanted and grab Alias. We could travel to the Southern Continent and be pirates or performers.
I checked myself, my clothes heaped in a bloody pile, and the draws for my weapons. Nothing.
Pulling out my mud and gore-stained boots from beneath the bed, I felt around the edge until the small outline of a dagger met my fingertips. Ripping the leather, I pulled out the knife, tossing it in my hands a few times until I became accustomed to the weight.
I slumped back onto the bed, knowing that the only way I was going to get out of here, was on my own.
I needed a reason for someone to come into the room, a reason for someone to start talking. Noticing the crystal jewelry box, a plan formed. Knocking over the box with one hand, I sliced the dagger down my forearm with the other. Sliding the weapon under my pillow to safe keeping.
Playing the part of the fumbling fool, I muttered a curse to myself before reaching down to collect the pieces. Extravagantly wincing as I embedded a few larger shards of glass into my arm to make it look as though it had shattered against me.
A small screech fell from my lips as blood, much more than I had anticipated, began spilling alarmingly fast until suddenly my entire forearm was covered in blood. How had this happened? I had only embedded a few chunks into my arm. I had been careful not to slice anything important. Had the dagger slipped? I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.
Footsteps thudded outside my chambers, and I stood up swiftly, wincing at the movement. Knuckles rapped on the wooden door and only moments later it swung open. I stood frozen, suddenly aware that only a thin satin nightgown separated air and my body.
Who had dressed me? How much time had passed since my conversation with Jala?
A man stood at the threshold, he wore fitted trousers and tunic, much like the uniform I had worn only days before. His clothes were worn, like another layer of skin. A royal guard, I guessed. He ducked into the room, his large frame bigger than my own, despite my being the tallest girl in Regiment One. His dark hair swished against the tops of his shoulders as he turned his head towards me, his brown skin glistening slightly with sweat. Bushy eyebrows raised above green eyes at my silence.
“You’re bleeding…” he said, his voice soft and deep. I nodded.
“The jewelry box,” I managed to stutter quickly. He nodded, looking down at his own hands awkwardly. Silence engulfed us and I stared at the floor. Was he going to say something or just stand there.
“Are you going to help me?” I demanded, but more silence followed. It scratched against my skin. The man continued to stare at me, cold, emerald eyes meeting mine.
“Are you listening?” I blurted quickly, unable to keep the words inside me anymore. He paused, assessing me quietly. Remembering my part to play, I whimpered softly.
“Why am I here?” I whispered, forcing a single tear to roll down my cheek.
“How would I know?” he answered, he gaze lingering on my rumpled bedsheets.
“You’re the first person I’ve seen since…” I paused, wringing my fingers. “I don’t know what… I don’t understand… where am I?” I hated myself for begging a man like an insolent child. I was a member of the Sage Guard. Or at least I used to be.
He raised his eyebrows yet again. “What is your name?”
I sighed inwardly.
“Raya,” I muttered.
“And your last name?” he asked, looking bored. I bit my lower lip and fiddled with the hem of my nightgown. A pang of pain stuck my core.
“I don’t have one. It’s just Raya.”
The man rolled his eyes.
“Okay, Raya, I don’t know why you are here and, to be honest, I don’t really care. Ezra asked me to stand at your door and make sure no one entered or exited. I was told to keep you safe. Nothing more.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Was he some sort of idiot?
“I don’t need protecting,” I argued, and the stranger eyed my blood-soaked sleeve.
“Clearly.” He turned to leave. “I’ll have someone come and stitch you up.” He strode for the door but stopped. “Try not to break anything else.”
And with that he swung the door open and slammed it shut, leaving me once again in the cold. The world around me seemed to ebb and flow, suddenly I wasn’t aware if this was reality or a horrific dream I was having while my body lay slowly dying at the threshold of the safe house.
An awful feeling seeped into my bones, rising to my skull.
Where was Alias? Surely, he had not let Captain Jala trade me for secrets. My breaths came in short bursts, never fully filling my lungs. Suddenly my limbs felt heavy and all I could see was the blood dripping down my arm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
My training tried to push through my thoughts.
You’re losing blood, Raya. Hold pressure to the wound.
But I couldn’t
My skin began to ache, just like it had in the safe house. Just like it had when my only friend became afraid of me. Just like it had when I became a murderer.
“No,” I demanded my body to listen to me, falling to my knees, I whispered into the room, “I cannot do this again.” It felt as though a thousand tiny needles were pricking my skin, I was certain that my body was slowly shutting down. All my fight was gone, left in pieces like a corpse on a battlefield. What was happening? Was my body giving up on me? I had only a few cuts on my arm, this could not be because of blood loss, could it? A scream pierced my ears, my vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.
“Enough please, it hurts,” I almost whispered to the dawn. I laid flat on the floor, the aching subsiding ever so slightly. A headache began to form in between my eyes and my body felt limp. I breathed deeply, my body melting into the floor beneath me. Everything paused. My mind stilled softly.
I could not imagine a life of days like this.
I wept silently for all that I had lost. I wept for my mother, our village, my childhood, for Alias, for Opal, for our entire squad and I wept for myself.
A broken girl from a broken family with a broken heart.
My training attempted to save me again.
Stop weeping, Raya, you’ve survived worse. GET. UP.
I ignored the voice.
Death did not seem so scary in that moment. The headache deepened and I let it, drawing pleasure from the pain.
Pain reminded me that I was a human.
But I did not feel human, and I was no longer myself. The old Raya had died in the safe house, just like Lexa had. I stared at the ceiling. A soft tap sounded on my door.
“Hello?” I said, my voice barely audible. The door opened just a crack and a small elderly man poked his head around the corner.
“I was told there was an incident with glass?” he said, his too-big glasses slipping down his nose. I nodded, unable to get up off the floor.
“I—” I began and he nodded.
“I understand, pet, each of us has been in your position once,” he said, moving slowly toward me and guilt suddenly pierced my heart. He had not been in my position before; I have done this to myself.
“Please do not fret, I am here to help. I promise.” He gently knelt next to me, holding out a hand. I took it and he slowly hoisted me to seating position.
“I am afraid I cannot lift you onto the bed.” He smiled sadly as though we shared a secret, it was only then that I realized he was missing an arm. “One moment,” he said before scurrying back the way he came. I rested against the bed, dropping casually in and out of consciousness. The kind man reemerged with the giant brute from earlier. He was so rude, I thought to myself.
“I assure you that you are not the only person who feels the same,” the elderly man said with a smile.
I must’ve insulted him to his face. If I had more energy I might’ve cringed. He threw a disgusted look my way. Tension seemed to stretch the seconds into minutes and then the minutes to hours. An uncomfortable atmosphere settled around us, like fog stripping away my eyesight. I stared up at the ceiling, the off-white and peeling paint staring back at me until my eyes fluttered shut.
“Khol, just lift her to the bed, and then you can return to sulking,” the elderly man sighed. “I’m Elijah,” the man said to me. “A friend.” He smiled, and I returned the gesture, once again staring at the ceiling whilst Elijah began to root through his brown satchel. My breaths began coming in short and my eyes rolled back in my head. How much blood had I lost?
A lovely silence filled my head, and I realized I was dying. It scared me because I was not afraid to die. If anything, I was almost ready. Cool air brushed against my cheeks.
“My darling, stay with me.” I bolted forward, vomit burning my throat.
“Raya?” Khol said but I could not hear him.
“My love, we need you to stay.” Tears prickled my eyes as my mother’s voice filled my mind. “I am so proud of you.”
“Mama?” I whispered, tears dampening my nightgown.
“My darling, do not cry. I am here.”
I whimpered softly.
“You do not need to do this; you do not need to share the secrets of these people. Of our people.”Her sweet voice tickled my spine like a warm hand.
“Our people,” I said louder than before, tears uncontrollably streaming down my face. “Mama, you’re here?” I sobbed.
“I am always here.”I could almost feel her hand against my cheek.
“Don’t go,” I whispered, dipping back into unconsciousness.
I woke only moment later, already feeling emptiness. Elijah remained unfazed, still rooting through his brown bag but Khol stared, his face stunned and tinged with sadness.
“Khol, will you lift her to the bed, please?” Elijah looked up, sighing at, still-on-the-floor, me.
“But, Elijah, she—” he began to protest.
“Lift her onto the bed, Khol, please.” Elijah smiled but I could not see. I was clinging onto my mother’s ever quietening voice. I yearned for her. The pain of loss burned through me, ripping me apart bit by bit, slowly destroying me. My mother was gone, and I would never see her again, I would never return home to her again. Reluctantly, Khol lifted me, watching the tears silently slip down my cheeks.
“She’s bleeding,” he said without looking back. “Elijah, she is bleeding,” he said again, this time louder and sternly. Elijah rummaged around in a little brown satchel.
“Yes, I know that,” he said with a sigh.
Khol bent low, our faces close, and cautiously laid me down on the dreamily soft bed. I began to cry louder, feeling the gaping hole my mother’s death created growing larger and larger. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. Khol stared down at me, but I was too upset to be embarrassed or annoyed or anything other than completely miserable.
“That will be all, Khol, thank you,” Elijah said before laying various vials and tools on the bed. Once Khol had vanished it felt as though the air had been returned to the room.
“Right, let’s fix you up,” Elijah said, and I smiled weakly, a heavy silent settled over us as my tears began to slow. “I’m so sorry, Raya,” he stated and I nodded, for there was nothing else to say. No other words were needed, he was sorry and so was I.
Finally, my breathing began to slow as Elijah plied me with medicine and stitched up my cuts. I stared at the ceiling again, slipping, slowly and helplessly, into unconsciousness.