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She nodded, making room for me on the bed, and lifted the sheet for me to shimmy under. Her bedding smelled like her, clean and sweet, like blooming lavender. I breathed it in while I snuggled into her still warm seat.
“So, she’s here isn’t she?” Shavarra started, staring down at her hands.
“Yes, and I think she finally hates me less.” I leaned into the backboard of her bed.
“Well, tell me more,” she answered, drifting back against my shoulder.
And so I did. I owed Shavarra that and so much more. She deserved my honesty and my friendship. I whispered in that cot under the bright Fae firelight about our arrival, my fears, and the strangeness of seeing Ryker again. Occasionally she would nod along against my shoulder and laughed when I told her about Ryker stuck in that dress.
Shavarra was my only friend since Torrance had proven to be as terrible as everyone else in the Twinity Court—eager to use me for some sort of gain of his own. What did he get out of it though? Favor with my parents? Something more? Something less? How much was my friendship worth to him? What did it take to buy him out?
My eyes traveled the expanse of the room, over the white bedding and quietly talking Nymphs. Shelves along the walls housed oddly-shaped bottles with a rainbow of different color selections. The containers held liquids, finely ground powder, or dried herbs. I could only guess at their many uses.
“Something about taking charge of this place…it chipped away at her anger. She’s stronger now. Happier.”
“Are you happier now?”
Me. It was always about me. Shavarra was always concerned about how I was doing and it was never about her.
“You know what,” I patted her leg, “I’m happy right now. With you. Let’s not talk aboutherright now or me.”
Shavarra’s face flushed. “What do you want to talk about then?”
“You. You know what? Maybe you can tell me how exactly you got so good at playing cards.” I smacked my lips, thinking. I didn’t actually know that much about Shavarra. Where was her family? What was her favorite meal? Or her favorite place to visit?
“Something’s gotten into you, Dace.” She beamed, pushing my hand off her leg.
“Call it a rude awakening.”
“This may be good for you.” She pointed a finger at me, the polish that had once coated them now chipping away.
“But we aren’t talking about me, now are we?”
Her small, button nose crinkled with a smile. “Where do I even start?”
Crossing my legs at my ankles, I snuggled into her bed. I waited on her every word, determined that I would listen and learn for once. I would be better. Better to her, the friend who had done the most for me, even when I took her for granted.
“How about you start at the beginning?”
Dace hadn’t been seen out in the valley the entirety of the day. Rumor had it, he was in the infirmary with his friend, Shavarra. I still wasn’t convinced that they were not an item, but Dace hadn’t given me a reason not to trust him yet.
The sun was heading toward the horizon, casting the trampled green grasses into shadows. Training arenas for learning swordplay and other weapons had finally been pieced together by scraps brought out from the castle. Nymphs who had put in a hard day of work starting their training and practicing with their powers were turning back toward the castle. Men, who had organized themselves as our castle guard, switched positions and walked the perimeter, their presence a steady comfort.
Daethian unwrapped the bandages spotted with crimson blood from his hands to examining his knuckles. I leaned over the railing and glanced at his hands. Heat from the sunned wood burned mildly against my forearms. As I expected, Daethian’s knuckles were bright red and busted open, possibly on the cusp of infection too. He had pushed himself too hard today when he sparred. A side of him I hadn’t seen too much of. Almost like something else, something very angry and dark had taken hold of him for a while.
“Maybe tomorrow you stick to just trying to manipulate your powers?” I frowned. “I think you should stay away from sparring; you nearly gave that one kid a concussion.”
“Yeah.” His eyebrows furrowed. “In war, no one is going to take it easy on them, better they learn that now.”
A single strand of his dark brown hair fell forward into his face and he pushed it back into his sweat-slicked hair. His shirt had long since been discarded on the side of the ring and his chest was still heaving with panting breaths. His tan had deepened, though a touch of sunburn had left his shoulders and cheeks flushed.Freckles were born over the bridge of his nose and the expanse of his pecs.
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? They are new to this after all. Are you okay? You’ve seemed a little out of it lately, out of touch with yourself.”
“Believe me, I touch myself more often than a man should.” He winked.
“Gross, Daethian.” I laughed. “I’m being serious.”
“I know, I know. It’s just, I don’t know what's wrong with me. I feel…off, but I can’t quite figure out how or why. And I have these moments where time escapes me. I’m doing things, but I’m not really present for them. Does that make sense?”
