Lyra
The clang of the cell door opening wakes me. Bleary-eyed, I peer around as Eres steps inside. “This is an improvement.”
He humphs. “Anything would have been an improvement.”
My cell has been… cleaned. There’s a green, roughly-woven heavy-looking rug spread out on the floor to chase away the damp, a three-legged wooden stool and matching small table on one side, a flickering lantern offering light and matched by one hooked against the wall opposite. At the back is a cot bed, similar to my own bed in Solvandyr, with thick looking blankets folded on top. And in the middle, a mid-sized iron tub rests, filled with steaming water—
I groan. “Abath?”
Nothing sounds better in the world to me right now. A rag-wash was not enough for me to feel anywhere near clean.
Eres carefully sets me down. “Take your time. There are fresh clothes on the bed, some soaps.”
My shoulders tighten, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “You’re leaving?”
Eres pauses. “Not tonight. I’ll be on the other side of that wall. They brought another tub down for me.”
My mouth opens. “You’re bathing down here? Why?”
He shrugs. “As I said. The aftermath of a Binding—the first day or two, at least—is difficult. It was this, or you stayed in the main castle. This was my compromise with Kaelen.”
He disappears before I can ask anything else, but he leaves the door open. Perhaps there are guards on the main door. I listen until the sound of his footsteps echo on the other side of the wall, until I hear the splash of water before I strip off my damp clothes and slip into the tub, pulling up my knees and wrapping my arms around them as I soak in the unexpected warmth.
What a fine mess you’ve found yourself in, Lyra.
I lift my hands, examining the tips of my fingers. Perhaps I’m imagining it, but it feels as though they’re tingling. Experimenting, I flex them as best I can around the bandages, hissing at the pain before I attempt to call myluminth out.
Nothing. But the pain is a good sign. In this case, at least.
Pushing the darker thoughts from my mind, I look away. My gaze catches on my left arm, and I frown. When I twist it, the golden ocher of my skin glimmers in the light from the lantern. But—
Riftlines.
Not just one, but… many. So many, criss-crossing my skin, starting beneath my bandaged hands and traveling up toward my shoulder. But these lines aren’t pure black, like the Darkwielders wear. These are almost silver in color. I trace the lines with the edge of my hand, feeling the faint abrasion.
Swallowing, I keep tracking them, turning and twisting my body as best I can in the tub. As far as I can tell, they’re everywhere. Across my collarbones, my neck, down my chest and over my breasts and stomach, mirrored in my right arm and even past my hips.
I wonder what effect a Lightbringer healer would have on them. If they could remove them. They've removed much worse.
“Lyra?”
I tear my eyes from the marks and reach for the soap I left beside the tub. “I need a few minutes.”
“Take your time.”
Wincing at the growing sting in my hands, I wash off using the soap, rinsing my hair twice before I reluctantly climb out.
There’s not just one change of clothes, but a variety. Choosing a pair of warm-looking brown woolen hose and a darned, soft cream shirt that I have to roll the sleeves up on, I wriggle into them before sitting back on the bed and attacking my hair with the comb left for me. “You can come in now.”
Eres appears at the doorway. He’s still in the process of dressing, tugging a shirt over his head before he steps inside. My hands pause in their movements.
I feel as if I want to…goto him. To get closer. Frowning, I drop my eyes and resume my battle with the knots in my hair.
I can still feel his eyes on me, though. “The riftlines… they cover my face.”
He clears his throat. When I risk another glance, still fighting that urge to stand and move across to him, his expression is careful. “They do, yes. Does that bother you?”
I consider it. “Not particularly.”
