Sleep abandoned me. I could feel that phantom spark tingling in my fingertips like a static charge. In the quiet darkness, I tapped my index finger to my thumb again and again, trying to see if the ember would reignite.
After a time, the movement devolved into a mindless fidget, a mere backdrop to the cascading thoughts pouring through me after everything the king had unveiled.
He hadn’t seen the spark, and I was not inclined to tell him. For some reason, it felt deeply private, like a thought I’d never deign to speak aloud. Maybe in time I’d feel comfortable enough with him to share it, or it would happen again and he’d witness it firsthand. Perhaps it was a figment of my imagination, or something to do with the shared vision—though something deeper nagged at me, as if whispering its truth.
The knowledge I’d obtained from the king felt like jigsaw pieces falling into place. Only just as I made headway, blank pieces were added to the amassing pile that still needed to be sorted. As I made connections and formed an understanding, a barrage of questions would slam into me, and I’d feel even more lost than before. It waslike putting together an imageless puzzle, blindfolded, without all the pieces.
It frustrated me beyond measure, and I hated not being able to solve it.
Butitwasn’t something I could solve.Itwas my life…and I may never feel like I had all the pieces again. Things with my family had been far from easy, but at least the rules of engagement were clear. There was nothing comfortable about this new reality. Well, except that bed—it had been sent from the heavens themselves.
One piece had clicked today, although it was of little consequence. I’d never understood why we pray to the stars, the gods, or the Mother, but that all made sense now. It was as if the veil had wiped all details from our memories but not our intrinsic belief in something larger than ourselves—I wondered if there was any power strong enough to rid us of such compulsions.
I also wondered what came first: The seasons or the ancients? Did the ancients create the seasons, or did the Mother create the seasons, and then the ancients played within the parameters of her offerings? Or maybe we could say it was the gods, as they were the ones who’d created Lumnara with her cyclical nature. Or maybe it was…
Those were the types of thoughts that endlessly cycled through my mind until dawn broke at last, and I pulled myself out of bed. I doubted anyone else would be awake, so I sauntered to the lavatory and ran myself a bath.
Jars of salts and soaps and small dropper bottles of oils lined a small table next to the tub. I twisted each one of them in turn and drew in a deep breath. I was grateful they were labeled, as most of the scents were entirely new to me. Finally, I settled on one calledeucalyptus—not because it pleased me the most, but because its potent aroma was like a salve for my nerves.
The deep fragrance drifted into the chamber, where I now lay on the bed watching the tub fill with bubbles.Bubbles. Actual bubbles frothed in a massive heap. Their existence brought me childish delight, and I lay there smiling as the white plume amassed.
Now full to the brim, I padded over and turned off the spigot. My robe slid to the ground, and I held the tub edge, lifting my right leg over its side. It was gloriously hot as my toe found the water below the swath of tickling bubbles. I gave my body a moment to acclimate before I stepped in and sank down, letting the heat envelop me wholly. White, pillowy bubbles tumbled over the sides as my weight displaced the water. I’d clearly miscalculated, but I didn’t care—the more, the merrier.
In a life that felt like it was no longer my own, I would treasure these tiny moments of pleasure as much as possible. Yes, that iron weighted cloak of sadness and grief had become a part of me, but I had to find moments, even fleeting ones, to lighten its force. If I didn’t, I’d surely buckle under its oppressive bulk.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.
Fully relaxed, I finally drifted off.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep, but the water was lukewarm at best, and a majority of the bubbles had abandoned me, exposing my naked body below the surface. I finished bathing in earnest and got ready for the day.
By the time I was dressed, the sun was up and the morning teemed with life.
I opened the door to find that my dutiful escort was there…again.
“Why are you hereeverymorning? I can find my own way around, you know,” I said.
“Aren’t we in a fine mood?” the man said as he flashed me an amused grin. “Good morning, Tarrin. How are you this morning?”
I decided to ignore his mocking tone, and him.
Like every other time, he turned and signaled for me to walk in front of him. He angled his head to look at me as we walked. “Good morning, Nyleeria. I’m good, thank you. How are you?”
I rolled my eyes. I was not in the mood for pleasantries or beingpatronized. Apparently, I’d woken up on the wrong side of the tub. Clearly the lack of sleep and my inability to eat were rubbing me raw.
“I didn’t realize you warrior types were so sensitive,” I said, holding his gaze, then added a small, saccharine smile for good measure.
“And I didn’t realize a young woman such as yourself was raised by heathens, thereby lacking proper decorum.”
“Umm, you’d think someone with your skill sets would be more observant than that.”
He smiled in earnest and chuckled as he opened the door to the solarium.
The king took note of Tarrin and asked, “What’s got you smiling this morning?”
“You didn’t tell me this one is funny.” Tarrin nodded in my direction. I’d never seen them this informal with one another.
“Oh?” the king said as he looked between us, brow cocked. “Nyleeria hasn’t graced me with that side of her yet.”
