Chapter 16 #2
Jonras, at least, had the decency to look chagrined.
“I’ve taken the liberty of moving your quarters,” Princess Azra announced factually. “The room above His Majesty’s will be mine, and you will join the rest of the staff in the barracks.”
My lips pressed into a hard line, but I did not argue with her.
Not merely because I should not, but because she was right.
If Renn were still actively regressing, it would make sense to have a room near his, even if it were more esteemed.
But he was not, and I could be nothing to him.
By all means, until the new craftlock recruits arrived, I was the lowest servant here.
I had no hired place and little demand for my talents.
I held my hand out to the maid for my blanket. The princess stiffened, ready to battle it out with me, but I simply took the blanket and walked toward the barracks where the others slept, Jonras close behind me. He didn’t speak until I opened the door.
“It’s not my place to discuss with her,” he offered.
“I know.”
The women had the smallest building, with eight bunk beds close together. With the staff at work, we were the only two there to witness my demotion. The first few beds were entirely full, a top bunk taken on the fourth.
I crossed to the farthest bunk from the door and set my blanket atop it. A community pitcher and basin were near the entrance, so Jonras set mine on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“You need anything else? Is this really all?” he asked.
“Everything else is here.” I patted my packed bag, still slung on my shoulder. “Thank you. You should get back.”
He nodded, then departed.
I busied myself throughout the day, though with the camped soldiers gone there was far less to do.
All the better, I supposed, to help me with my new errands.
I borrowed shears from Beatty, which I took back to my new bunk.
I used them to cut strips from my ragged Sesta-stained dress, which I then plaited into three braids—two thicker, one thinner.
Then I helped with laundry and washing the castle floors until dark.
I treated myself to a cold bath and rebraided my damp hair.
I snuck into the barracks well after the others had fallen asleep. Did not light a candle. The floorboards creaked underfoot, but Beatty’s snoring helped drown them out. Good. If the others slept through that, hopefully they’d sleep through the rest.
I stripped off my dress and set it aside, lying down in my shift.
I arranged my blankets atop myself, then took my thinner braid with a ball of fabric and tied it around my mouth, gagging myself as much as I could without being too uncomfortable.
Then I looped the other braided cords around my wrists and awkwardly tied them to the ladder leading to the upper bunk, hoping they’d help keep me from thrashing too wildly.
As I closed my eyes to sleep, I felt for the muffled link. Renn, too, slumbered.
With luck, I wouldn’t wake him.
This time I worked in my parents’ house, having just pulled laundry off the line and brought it in to fold.
None of my siblings were present, leaving the house eerily quiet.
Nicosia came up from behind me and grabbed my hair, wrenching me back with an intense feeling of falling.
He slammed me into the floor, splinters digging into my shoulders.
He wore his military uniform, gold bars gleaming.
“Tell Me What I Want to Know!” he screamed, spittle raining across my face. I struggled against him, but my wrists and ankles were suddenly tied, and a mastiff lumbered nearby, holding my soulbinding. I tried to speak, but the gag pressed too hard against my teeth.
Nicosia cursed and knelt between my knees. “I ought to break you like I did her.” He leaned close, carrying with him the chill of winter, so cold it burned my skin. “If you won’t tell me how you did it, I’ll discover it for myself.”
And he shoved his hand into my chest, tearing through clothing, skin, and bone, until he wrapped his hand around my half-heart and pulled it free from its cavity.
I woke to the blue hour before dawn, breathing hard, slick with sweat.
My lips, cheeks, and wrists were rubbed raw.
It took me a long moment to recognize where I was, that it was all a dream, and yet I still felt the open wound between my breasts.
So much so that when I untied myself, I checked to see if it bled.
Guilt pushed through the bond, pulsing like a second heart. I curled into myself, knees to ribs. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, so that if any other servants remained in their beds, they wouldn’t hear me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll get better. I’ll do better.”
I had to. If this bond between Renn and I carried from Cansere to Rodsfell, it would easily connect us from Fount to Rove. I’d be a handicap to him all his life.
The pain in my chest persisted. Dowsing, I realized my heart blocks were fading, which meant I had to remove part of the basalt wall to reenergize them.
I did so quickly, my guilt mixing with Renn’s until my lumis became nearly toxic to linger in.
Then I sealed everything up and got to work.
After two more nightmarish nights, I finally sought out Eden in the waning hours of the evening, exhausted by the day’s labor in addition to my poor sleep.
I’d labored hard, avoiding the Antsan princess, which had proven easy, since she didn’t mingle much with Renn gone, Sir Arquan with him, and her walks through the bailey were routine, so I knew not to be visible at those times.
A young soldier had been stationed outside Eden’s room.
Inside, I spied Piya knitting in the corner.
Her presence surely acted as a balm to the princess; this was the first time since Rove that I’d seen her without deep shadows under her eyes.
She didn’t hesitate to remark on mine. “Nym.” She set down the ledger she was reading. “You haven’t been sleeping.”
I nodded, feeling suddenly sheepish. “I . . . came here to speak to you about that.”
“Piya, would you give us a moment?”
The attendant quickly stood and set her mending on the chair, offered a curtsy to Eden and a smile to me, then hurried into the hallway.
I wrung my hands together. “I apologize.”
Eden shook her head. “She loves any opportunity she gets to speak with Quinn—the guard in the hall. You’re doing her a favor.”
I let out a slow breath. “I was wondering if . . . if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, if I might stay here tonight.” Princess Azra and her demeaning relegation of my things sprang to mind. “I know the difference in our stations—”
“Yes.” She closed the ledger. “Of course, Nym.” She studied my face, then patted her bed. “You’re still having nightmares.”
I sat near her. “I am. Again.”
“One night.” She had a number of books and papers on her bed, which she seemed to be using as a desk, and began collecting them together.
“I’ve had one night since arriving here when I didn’t.
Piya . . . her presence helps.” Reaching forward, she clasped my hand.
“If not for you, Nym, I would be living the nightmares, still. Please, never hesitate to ask me for anything. Especially not for help.”
Emotion burned the inside of my nose. “Thank you, Eden.”
Eden’s presence did help—I still had nightmares, but they’d simmered down into bad dreams. Dreams I could sleep through and forget by morning.
With the basalt wall firmly in place, hopefully that meant Renn’s nights would pass uninterrupted.
Yet even as I worked through the first of my troubles, I learned quickly to keep to my side of the bed, for touching Eden in the dark of night triggered something in her.
She would thrash or cry out when I did, sometimes loud enough to call in her guard.
I’d become so used to being the solution to others’ hurts. The cure. It bothered me that we were so broken, and yet I could do so little to fix it. Ursa had died in truth, Eden’s work preparing for incoming crafters consumed her, and Renn—
I could not think of Renn.
I threw myself into daily chores, so much so that I simply took the lead on anything that needed to be done without clarifying with the steward first. I lent my hands and talents wherever they could be put to work.
As far as I could tell, Renn’s feelings stayed relatively even over the next two weeks: eagerness, trepidation, boredom, concern, repeat.
I imagined long days of traveling and reflected on my journey through Sesta, though I supposed it would be different with an army. Different, as a king.
King. My king, and nothing more.
I could not escape him. Not only from our connection; he so often graced the tongues of those remaining at Derren I could hardly go a few hours without catching his name.
Any glimpses of the Antsan princess drove home the reminder like unsharpened ice picks.
I found myself desperately wanting to go home, and yet every time I seriously started to plan out my route, away from Eden’s awareness, I remembered standing on the drawbridge, frozen and useless.
A wreck and a mess. For all the gods wanted us apart, I could not bring myself to have that be my last moment with Renn.
I didn’t want him to remember me so . . . broken.
I promised myself that after the army returned I would depart. After I steeled myself with the time apart and could look him in the eyes, as healed as I could manage and feigning the rest, I would say goodbye properly.
In the quiet hours of the night, when I could not sleep, I sat in my lumis and played with magic, calling it and bending it and shaping it much as I had my months in Rove, desperate to discover a means of severing my connection to Renn without killing us.
Feeling keenly the absence of my sister all the while.
Even in that ethereal space, I wept.