“Fur.” I can’t keep the sharp disappointment out of my tone.
“Oljin.” Saana’s voice is heavy with reproof. “Leave her be for tonight. She needs to rest. A scholarly scolding will do her no good.”
She’s right. I’ve already lost sight of my patience. This will take time. I might not have it, but I must give it to her anyway. I start to draw away, but Rose grabs my wrist with her thin fingers, stopping me with the surprising strength of her grip.
“Oljin yes!” Rose flares at Saana, her cheeks flushing a dull red. She holds up the fur and shakes it. “Cushion no. Fur yes. Oljinyes!”
This fierce little female has teeth sharper than Alioth. This fierce little female could be queen.
Saana looks between us, shaking her head and laughing in disbelief at Rose’s determined defense of me. “Fine. Go ahead, then. Who am I to argue with the goddess?”
Chapter 7
Rose
Ishould probably apologize to Saana for snarling at her, but it felt like she was trying to take away my first glimpse at freedom. I don’t want Oljin to stop teaching me. I can’t learn if he doesn’t correct me, and the thought of being unable to communicate forever makes my mouth dry and my heart ache. Ineedthis to survive.
From what I could tell, she didn’t seem offended by my outburst. She brings over a basin of warm water and a cloth, carefully sponging my face and arms. Her touch is so kind and motherly, it makes me cry.
“Rose no,” Oljin says, using the hem of his shirt to wipe away my tears. He adds something in his language that I’m sure meansdon’t be sad.
“Rose yes,” I insist in his language, afraid he’s going to call off the lesson like she wanted him to. “Oljin yes.”
“Wathayes,” Saana says, chuckling as she lifts what’s left of my hair to rub the cloth on the back of my neck, clearly making fun of me.
“Watha,” I repeat, not sure whether she means cleaning or cloth or dirty skin or what. Making a guess, I take the cloth and rub it inside the bowl. “Watha bowl?”
“Yes!” Oljin’s huge body gives an excited bounce like an overgrown puppy. It’s how I feel inside even though I don’t have the energy to move like that. He’s as invested in this as I am and just as happy that my guess was right.
“Clean bowl yes.Lanbeyes,” Saana says firmly, collecting the cloth from me and gently pushing me back on the bed. She repeats the new word, adding for clarification, “Eyes closed.”
She thinks I should sleep. She’s probably right. Just eating and our little language lesson has worn me out. “Sleep yes,” I agree. “Oljin yes?”
Maybe it’s weird to ask him to stay with me. Maybe it’s expecting too much of this alien good Samaritan to cuddle me all night. But after years of isolation in a cold, metal cage, I am desperate for warmth. For touch. And Oljin has been so careful with me. Even when I could feel his body reacting to me, he was gentle and undemanding. I’m not afraid of him.
“Yes,Alara.” He rasps the alien word in a voice heavy with meaning that I don’t understand.
Saana insists I drink some water, then disappears into another room with the lantern. Oljin curls his massive body around mine so we can both fit in the narrow space, his strong arms a cage I welcome.
He smells like sweet hay, the kind that makes you understand why an animal might be eager to eat it. It makes my mouth water, and that swift bolt ofhungermakes my eyes prickle again. I’m crying for the second time today.
It’s a strange sensation. I haven’t had an appetite in a year or more. Haven’t had enough energy towantanything. Haven’t been hydrated enough to make tears. And here I am, safe and warm and fed andcrying.
I guess sometimes you don’t fully understand what’s been taken from you until you get it back.
“Don’t be sad,” Oljin murmurs in his language. He tentatively strokes my back, his fingertips bumping over my spine. Iwish I didn’t hurt so much. I wish it didn’t feel like my bones were going to poke through my skin. I wish I could express the gratitude that’s filling my veins in a thundering crescendo. As I fall asleep, I wish, absurdly, that I could kiss him.
I wake up to a cool morning breeze and the smell of unfamiliar food cooking. My stomach twists and bites at me. I’mhungry. Oljin isn’t there, though, and I don’t see the silhouette of his broad shoulders anywhere nearby. Granted, anything more than a few yards away turns into a complete blur.
“Oljin?” I call. He immediately appears, Saana beside him with a tray of bowls and cups, their contents just smudges in my ruined vision.
Oljin says the word for each of them as he hands them to me one at a time. Since I can’t tell what’s in them by sight, I touch and smell each one before tossing it back. An herbal oil, sweet jelly cubes, shreds of roasted meat. Bitter berries that make my tongue cool and tingly, leaves that taste like lemons, chewy steamed grains with a texture somewhere between rice and oatmeal. Everything is good. Just a bite or two of each, sips of hot tea in between.
This is probablynota normal breakfast. It’s likely sick-person food, a broad assortment because they don’t know what I’ll like. But it's the best meal of my life.
“I feel so spoiled, like a princess. Thank you.” I put a hand to my heart.
“Zaahnk yuu,” Saana repeats, a smile in her voice as she places her hand over mine.
