“You didn’t have to do so much,” Sam said. “But I’m grateful. Thank you.”
“She seems nice.” Cris hesitated. “Well, a bit testy, but I suspect she’s nice underneath all those thorns.”
“When we first met, she had scars all over her hands. It took me a while to figure out how she’d gotten them.” Sam hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Or why they looked familiar.”
Cris held up his hands; I couldn’t see clearly from my place on the sofa, or with the current foggy state of my vision, but I imagined they were both looking at the scars he wore, too. You’d think someone who had been tending roses for hundreds of years might figure out about gloves.
“I saw the roses at the cottage.” Cris lowered his hands. “She did a good job with them. Maybe I’ll bring a few more by to cheer her up.”
“She’d like that.” They spoke a moment more, offers of further assistance, and Cris turned to leave. “Hey.” Sam shifted his weight and his tone lightened. “I always thought your roses were blue.”
Cool fingers touched my cheek. “Ana?”
“Mmm?” I tilted my head toward the window, where light could burn beyond my eyelids; I didn’t want to wake up in the dark.
“Where did you go?” He sounded broken. Shattered. He sat on the edge of the sofa. “I looked everywhere for you.”
My arms were too heavy to lift all the way to his face, so I settled for his elbows and dragged him downward. “You really don’t remember?”
“You didn’t tell me. I thought we were going somewhere together, but I can’t remember. I had a backpack. I tried to call you.”
The memory magic had closed over the cracks in my absence. I groaned.
“It’s okay,” Sam murmured. “We can talk about it later, if you want. I’ve called Lidea and Sarit. They want to come see you.”
Opening my eyes was painful. No way could I smile for guests. “Not now.”
“Not now,” he agreed. “Can I get anything for you?”
I spoke without thinking. There was one thing I always needed. “Music. Play for me.”
Sam kissed my forehead and retreated to the piano in the center of the parlor. Long, low notes filled the room, bouncing off the polished wood and stone figurines. This room was meant for music, and I sank into the sound as though it were a pile of feathers.
I dreamt of black rooms and black tears, and my fate narrowly avoided.
I awoke trapped in the tangled embrace of blankets. I thrashed and tumbled off the sofa, ran for the nearest washroom, and lost everything in my stomach.
Outside the washroom, I heard Sam growling into his SED. “Tell them to postpone the deadline. She’s in no condition to leave right now….
“She’s very ill….
“No, she was getting better, and then someone attacked her in the market field. Deborl cornered her right after….
“You’re the Speaker, Sine. Overrule them….
“Stand up for her. Stand up for all the newsouls and do something to help.”
More than he knew, someone had to stand up for them. Someone had to stop Janan from hurting newsouls. Someone had to.
I had to.
I sobbed until I crashed into dreams again.
When I finally opened my eyes without panicking, Sam brought tea and a plate of buttered toast. The lines and dark smudges were gone from his face, so I must have slept for quite a while.
I’d lost a week in the temple, lost more time sleeping after my escape. If I kept this up, I wouldn’t have any memories at all. I might as well be one of the newsouls trapped in the everywhere-light and darkness.
I lowered my teacup mid-sip, and Sam brushed a tear off my cheek. That was all I had left: a few tears. No energy left for a big cry.
“I wish I hadn’t gone in.” I gulped my tea and set the cup aside, scrubbed my palms against my face. I really wanted a shower. A week of real sleep. No nightmares. “Where are my things? My notebook?” I needed to work on translating the temple books.
“In your room. Do you want to go up?”
“After I finish this.”
Sam frowned, but waited while I ate my toast and found my feet. I felt like a memory of myself, after no food, after crying. It made me heavy and light at the same time, and I swayed on aching legs. Were they thinner than before? If I took off my clothes and looked in the mirror, could I count my ribs? I felt so hollow.
I managed to get upstairs without crumbling, without forgetting I wasn’t still climbing out of Meuric’s pit. Sam followed me into my room, staying close while I found clean clothes. He didn’t speak when I went to shower.
Hot water burned off layers of memory. The reek of sideways and spherical rooms, the rancid odor of Meuric and his eye, and the stench of my own sweat. I watched it spiral into the drain.
Dressed again, I sat next to Sam on my bed. “Did you sleep in the parlor today? Last night?” My window showed a deep purple sky, a pale dusting of stars. Evening.
“I’m afraid of what will happen if I look away from you.”