33. Lina
Lina
I am staring at the ceiling when Helena enters my room in the morning.
Helena is peppy when she rises and pampers me. She chatters about a friend of hers who recently joined the community. The girl is blessed to be a food server, and how it’s so lovely to meet new people when they arrive from the outworld.
It’s as if we are aliens to her, and this world is a gift. Always a blessing.
Once dressed in a lovely silk gown with long sleeves, my hair braided carefully, she guides me to the community area for breakfast.
Here, there is a massive wooden table that could hold fifty people. We are not the first to arrive, however.
There are older women, young women, a few children, and a few older men. In the corner, I see two Dread, and my stomach sinks to my feet.
I’m not ready to see my Dread. I secretly hope I never lay eyes on him again, but obviously, that’s a far stretch.
The room is chilly, but with my new clothes, I am fairly comfortable.
“A new Drahkita!” someone says joyfully.
“Oh, I love the dress!”
After a short moment of friendliness, they all shift their attention back to each other and seem to forget I entered at all.
“Here,” Helena says. “These are the other new Drahkitas.” There are three young girls, my age or younger, sitting at the corner of the large wooden table with their eyes cast low. They are clean, with new frocks, but their cheeks are sunken and their eyes dim.
I wonder if they too suffered as I have. Surely they lost loved ones. Did they come here out of desperation?
A girl with pretty blond hair and blue eyes looks up to me.
“Hello,” she says demurely. “My name is Tamaria. What is yours?”
“Lina,” I answer. I look around the room one more time before taking a seat next to the other shy girls.
“That’s a nice name. Did you go to the cascades today?” the youngest girl asks.
“Yesterday. It was lovely.”
Her smile seems forced. I look down at her hands. She wrings them together in her lap. Her fingers are trembling.
I reach out and squeeze her forearm gently. “I’m scared too.”
She sucks in a breath and meets my eye. There are tears welling in hers.
Helena delivers a basket of pastries, and I choose a similar muffin as yesterday. She also delivers me juice without a word. There are two warriors in the room who sit quietly while the women chatter casually. They seem so out of place here.
Several women in tan dresses like Helena bustle to set out food and refill drinks.
One of the Drahkita snaps her fingers at a pile of crumbs on the floor, and a woman in a tan dress rushes to sweep it up.
My brow pinches. I knew Helena was my personal helper, but watching this dynamic, I’m realizing it’s a bit more than that. Are these women our servants?
I also notice a clear pattern in clothing.
Drahkitas are all wearing blue. Drak wear black. Those who serve the Drak and Drahkitas, like Helena, wear tan. The priestesses wear gold, and the seers silver.
Are there more designations? Are there lower positions?
What is life like for those chosen to serve? I watch them. One slaps the wrist of another with a reprimanding hiss. The girl who was slapped looks over her shoulder at the table of Drahkita with dark, unhappy eyes.
My stomach sinks as her eyes meet mine.
I know in the larger cities on the coasts, some are treated less well than those with high wealth, but in this society, there is no such thing as wealth, is there? The Drahkita must be highly regarded.
Helena drags the dark-eyed girl from the room and out of sight. Is she in trouble? I wonder.
“Have you heard?” a Drahkita says loudly, catching the attention of most of the room. Once Helena and the girl are out of sight, I turn my attention to the chatter at the table.
The women are clearly not speaking to me or the girls beside me. The new girls are mostly ignored.
“We have a new Nihilian Drak in our midst.”
I examine the group as this information is shared. Is this significant? What does it mean?
“Did he finally do it?” one girl says in a hushed tone. “We’ve been waiting so long.”
First, eyes glance to me. Then, they shift around the room and land on the two Drak warriors. Their shoulders are tight but eyes tired and uninterested. They both nod their head but give no additional detail.
“Ivar must have finally pushed him too far,” a dark-haired woman muses.
“Ivar is the best Nihilian we’ve seen in a generation,” another claims.
“And yet, Haze won.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“If those two could put aside their differences, think of what they could achieve.”
“The Kingdom would come before the year was out.”
I am relieved yet uneasy that the group seeks no reaction from me. They are discussing my Drak, after all. I look down at my hands. I have not seen my Drak since his burns last night, when he told me I was nothing to him. I don’t want to mean anything to him, but where does that leave me?
Why am I here? How do I know if I am safe if I don’t understand my role?
After breakfast, Helena brings me to the cascades. I am quiet in thought, and she allows me my space. I spend my hour bathing watching the others in the pools. The children playing. The Drahkita gathering.
This place is strange.
The people are kind and happy, for the most part. And yet, the image of a woman being torn apart and consumed by these things still haunts me.
I don’t know how both can be true at the same time.
One moment, I’m terrified. Another, I’m eager to learn more and connect. With food and rest, my mind is becoming sharper and my body stronger. My soul still aches, perhaps even deeper than before, but the burning hope that has driven me has dulled. I find myself wanting to belong.
Am I like them? All the people who begged to be accepted by the cult just for the chance to eat good food behind a wall and leave all the bad behind.
Desperate souls still exist out there somewhere. People still flee into the desert, knowing they will perish. The southern towns still tremble with the fear that they are next to succumb.
But here, that is so far away.
Here, there is music and laughter and food and safety.
I could pretend. I could give up and take this blessing. It would be easy.
What a horrifying thought.
No, this cannot be a blessing, no matter how it is wrapped.
This is a curse. I must never forget that.