She slipped off her festival gown and climbed into the bath, sighing with relief as she was finally able to wash off the mound of sweat that had dried in a salty layer from days of travel and her wild dance. To her relief, the paint came off with ease as well. Once she was clean, she emerged and pulled on the nightgown, sighing with delight as the material caressed her skin. Then she shifted her pack and her spare clothes to the floor and burrowed into the blankets.
It was heaven. She should have been asleep instantly, tired as she was, and so, so comfortable. But every time she shut her eyes, she thought of Oskaren. She didn’t want to leave their conversation so unfinished, not after everything the girl had told her.
But what if she wanted to be alone? If she wanted Thia’s company, surely she would have come to find it herself.
On the other hand, what if she was in her own bed, feeling the same, embarrassed by everything she’d shared?
Moving before she could overthink it, Thia kicked off her blankets and exited her tent, casting a quick scan across the island to make sure the others weren’t about. Then she hastened as quietly as possible to where she knew Oskaren slept. She had just reached a hand for the vines of Oskaren’s tent when she stopped, suddenly second-guessing the decision.
Oskaren’s face appeared between the flowers, flushed. Her hair was damp from what likely was a recent bath of her own, loose around her chin, making her seem altogether more rugged and vulnerable. Her brow lifted as she registered Thia’s presence, then she shook her head, grinning, and pulled Thia into the shelter of the vines.
“Um,” Thia started, trying and failing to come up with a good response. “I came to see if you were okay,” she said honestly. It felt stupid now, seeing Oskaren clean and confident in the soft flower-glow. She was fine. She’d needed a cry, sure. She hadn’t neededThia.
Oskaren’s mirth dissipated. “Ah.”
“A-and to thank you,” Thia added. “For trusting me.”
“I see.”
Oh god. She’d already ruined it. But she forced herself to finish. “I’m…honored.”
Oskaren said nothing.
Thia wished Lythia would come back and make the vines smother her. “Okay, I’ll leave you to sleep then—” she started, just as Oskaren said, “Would you like to sit?”
Thia expelled a breath. “Yes.” She resisted the urge to nervously smooth her hair. “Yes, I’d like that.” She waited for Oskaren to move to the bed, then followed suit, perching a little stiffly on the opposite end. “So…are you?” Thia asked, when silence lapsed.
Oskaren ran a hand through her damp locks. “Am I what?”
Thia gulped. “Okay?” Why was this so hard? It had been so easy in the glade, with the music all around them.
“No,” came the short reply, and Thia felt it like a knife.
“I’m so sorry, I never meant—”
Oskaren cut her off. “Thia. Stop. I’m not okay because I’m not okay. Not because of you.”
“Oh.”
She gave that same half-smile. “I’m glad you’re here. That I…” Her eyes skimmed Thia, then fixed on the blanket between them. “I’m glad I told you.”
“Good.” Thia exhaled. She studied the girl, the tightness of her fingers as they nervously wrapped around each other, the slope of her shoulders. “What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” came the hesitant response.
“Do you want me to go?”
The reply came quicker. “Definitely not.”
Thia’s chest warmed. “I could tell you something about me.” Not that Thia had experienced anything similar, but she understood the vulnerability hangover she got when she felt she’d overshared.
“Please,” Oskaren said.
The heat in Thia’s chest spread further as she tucked her legs up onto the bed, considering. Oskaren, in turn, lifted her own up and over Thia, then rolled so she was lying on the far side, staring up at the tent from her back. Then she patted the space beside her, indicating Thia should do the same.
Tentatively, Thia mirrored her. They were still several feet apart, but Oskaren’s hand lay in the space between them. Thia could reach out and grab it if she wanted.
She put that thought out of her head and decided what to share. “My best friend’s name is Riley. He’s g—Vanari,” she corrected herself, remembering Thran’s word. “Like me.” She didn’t think Oskaren could possibly be surprised by this news, but stating it outright, letting it hang in the air, sent her heart skittering. It still wasn’t easy, no matter how many times she voiced it, though thankfully her grammy had only ever been full of love.
