Meals have been brought and taken away. Servants have come and gone.
Still, there has been no word of Mother.
And no sign of Soren.
I’d convinced my guards that I would work better alone—which is true—so they had remained outside, but once, when Yarl held the tent entrance open for those bringing food within, I met his eye, and he said, “His Majesty wishes to know if you require anything else.”
I was shocked and promptly blurted, “So he’s nearby?”
Yarl blinked at that. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I had briefly wondered if the king had gone with Rally and Ty to find Mother. The realization that he was still close and yet hadn’t come to see me or send word to explain his sudden absence stings.
“No,” I told Yarl. “I don’t need anything.”
I wonder how true that is as I lie here. My head hurts, my legs ache, and my monthly curse helps none of these things. I wish my cat friend were here to sit in my lap. His presence would be a welcome comfort. I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat.
“Crying will only make your head hurt worse,” I say aloud, but my eyes begin to sting anyway. I let out a short laugh at the absurdity.
“Can’t wake you up,” I say with a tap at the ground, “and can’t stop water coming from my own eyes.”
The answer that comes is swift and sharp.
Go away.
I startle upright. “What?”
Go away.
My brow furrows. Water is peaceful, often amiable, even. This felt like a mental shove.Why? I ask carefully.
Go away, is the answer yet again, and apparently, it’s the only answer the water wishes to give because it begins repeating the demand like a child throwing a tantrum.
Go away, go away, go away…
I sit in blank amazement. Water craves the path of least resistance, yes, but it also craves the sky. I’ve never encountered water that didn’t desire the surface. As it continues to chant, I wonder if this water hasn’t taken on some of the obstinacy of a dragon. I’ve never heard of such, but I’ve never drawn water in a land occupied by anyone other than humans either.
“Serah?”
The quiet call came from the tent entrance. My head ringing with the water’s continued demand for me to leave, I rub at my face and call, “Enter.”
Tilly slips inside bearing a furry bundle in her arms, and despite my fatigue and the water’s baleful yammering, I leap to my feet.
“Cat friend,” I cry.
“He was just outside,” Tilly says as she hands him over. Without even thinking, I kiss the top of his head, and he begins purring, the wonderful creature.
“Thank you, Tilly. I’m very glad to see you both.” I glance up with a smile, but the one she returns wobbles a bit, as if she’s holding back tears herself. “Is something wrong?”
Go away, go away, go away, the water grumbles.
“Well…” Tilly drops her gaze to the ground. “I did want to see how you are, of course.”
I ease my cat friend down and stroke his back. “That’s kind.” I don’t want to tell her I was on the verge of crying myself, not with her looking so distressed. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, and the words do sound sincere.
“Is it something to do with Lord Lyken?” I venture.
