I will carry these defenses around my sadness for as long as I have to. Until the day comes when I can fully grieve.
Ifthat day comes.
Until then, I will prevail. I have to. I can’t crumple and fade and give up.
Stellen’s long, white hair slips across his face, concealing his eyes while his frost power casts ice across his fork and down onto the last uneaten food on his plate, the soft crackling sound filling the air.
Putting down his fork, he rises to his feet, his shoulders deeply hunched and voice beyond quiet. “I’ll teach you how to control your armor now.” He adds, “If you still wish to be taught.”
I push myself away from the wall, determined to move, to do everything I need to survive.
At the same time, anticipation and fear thrum through me. The tension between Stellen and me is undeniable and I’m not sure how far my defenses will take me today.
“Come this way,” he says, stepping toward the hallway, pausing only to stoop to the baskets.
He becomes matter-of-fact, his manner distant, when he continues. “These clothes are for you.” Briefly rifling through the contents, he points out multiple garments. “The undergarments are warm. If you succeed in removing your armor, you should wear these next to your skin. No matter what, when you go outside, always wear your boots and make sure you have your cloak.”
He straightens, and I follow him along the hallway, his light footfalls mere whispers against the floor.
The doors are staggered, the first one situated on my right followed by the next door on my left.
Through the first opening, I make out an empty room with gray walls and not a single piece of furniture. I wonder if all of the rooms will be empty until the open door on the left reveals a bedroom.
Pastel-pink walls are painted with white clouds above a field of yellow flowers. Not roses this time. These are blooms of a kind I’ve never seen before with long petals and tall stems. Pretty furniture is scattered around a bed only large enough for a single fae.
“Whose rooms were these?”
Stellen’s back is to me, the tension in his shoulders increasing.
“The pink one was my sister’s. This next one was mine.”
He gestures to the room on the right, which containsa much larger bed than the pink room but no other furniture, its walls gray like the first room.
“This was our mother’s.” He points to the final room on the left, another bedroom filled with beautiful furniture.
The bed is large, its wooden legs carved with flowers, while a chair sits in the far corner, and a table rests beside the bed. The walls are the palest purple with white trims.
Opposite this bedroom, once again staggered on my right is a bathing room containing a large clawfoot bath in the center of the stone floor, a sink on the far side, and another door that must lead into a toilet room.
The bathing room, like the lavender bedroom, contains a thin column of the kind Stellen called athermal conductor.
None of the rooms have windows. Only a clear panel in the ceiling.
We’ve reached a dead end. Or so it appears.
“Through here,” Stellen says, pushing on the wall in front of him.
Aclicksounds.
His hand depresses against the wall before he says, “This door will open to anyone who knows where to press.”
I take note of the spot before he lifts his hand and the door swings outward.
Another stone garden stretches out in front of me, large enough that it’s the size of the bedrooms and bathroom combined. The space is completely enclosed with multiple clear panels in the ceiling, allowing more light to flow around us.
The air is warm, but not overly so, and I spot multiple thin columns at the edge of the space.
Everything here is carved from stone. From the rosebushes positioned at elegant intervals to the trailing vines meanderingacross the walls. Unlike the front garden, none of the flowers in this garden appear broken or chipped.
