The rain had stopped, but it was still grey and gloomy out. Like Quilla still felt. It was appropriate. She didn’t want the sun to come out. She didn’t want the world to look happy while she was so miserable.

Standing on Garet’s balcony in the chill air made her shiver, but being in the cold was preferable right now to being inside by the fire. She was more isolated here. Anybody who wanted her had to travel just a little bit farther to reach her.

She had stood on this balcony with Garet many times before: in the morning after waking up, in the evening before going to bed, before and after making love, or any other time the random mood hit them. That was one of the things she’d loved most about Garet: his ability to decide to do something out of the blue. He’d grab her hand and suggest going for a walk, or into Arnor City to watch a concert, or to a tavern for a few drinks. Sometimes, it was to go onto the balcony and watch the sunset. Garet hadn’t been one for planning his life in much detail. He simply made it up as he went along. It drove the rest of his family mad, but she loved it. It had made her feel alive.

And now he was gone, she felt so lifeless.

“Would you like some refreshments, my Lady?”

Quilla didn’t look back at the girl, just continued to stare off the balcony towards where the setting sun would be if it wasn’t so overcast and was about five hours in the future. “No, that’s all right, Marna. Thank you.”

“As you wish, I’ll just be inside.”

“I know. Thank you.”

The King had assigned the girl to her after consultation with Ardon. Marna had been Felitïa’s handmaid on Scovese. The King and Ardon must have thought Quilla would appreciate the gesture, but they didn’t know she wasn’t very happy with Felitïa right now, and having Felitïa’s servant working for her only reminded her of times gone by.

Everything here reminded her of times gone by, or a life now gone. Coming here had been necessary, and staying here awhile longer until Garet’s funeral was also necessary, but a part of her understood Felitïa’s reluctance to come. Part of her wanted to leave and run far away. But a reluctance to be here was not the same thing as actually not being here, and she couldn’t forgive Felitïa for that.

A gust of cold wind blew over her. With another shiver, she decided she should go back inside. Back to the sitting room where Marna had set up a wine tray in the corner and where Garet used to pace back and forth for ages. The sitting room which contained doors to Garet’s dressing room, study, lounge, the closet upstairs, and the bedroom. The bedroom with the bed they’d shared, the bed she’d loved and now couldn’t bear to look at.

No. She should go back inside, but there were too many memories there. She couldn’t do it.

But she’d freeze out here.

She shivered a few moments longer. She needed a distraction.

Meleng’s letter for Sinitïa.

She strode into the sitting room, past Marna, and over to where her supplies lay in a lump by the door. She had just tossed them there and hadn’t done anything with them yet. She’d also told Marna not to touch them. She found the bag she was reasonably certain she’d put the letter in. Meleng had given it to her in a rush as they were getting off the ship at the docks, and she’d just stuffed it away.

“My Lady?” Marna said. “Do you need assistance?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you, Marna.” Quilla carried the bag over to the wine table and placed it beside the pitcher and goblets there. As she ruffled through the contents, she knock a couple goblets onto the floor, but she really didn’t care about them right now. The letter was a bit crumpled, but it had stayed dry, and that was the main thing.

“I’m going out, Marna. I have an errand to run. I’ll be back...when I’m back.”

Marna curtsied. “Of course, my Lady.”

It wasn’t hard getting in to see Sinitïa. The Princess eagerly let her in despite protestations from her bodyguards.

“Mother said I couldn’t go see her, not that she couldn’t come to me,” Sinitïa told one of the guards. “You can stand by the door and watch if you want, but she gets to come in.”

As Sinitïa led her farther into the sitting room, Quilla leaned in close and whispered, “You know, he’s just going to tell your mother and then I really won’t be allowed in.”

Sinitïa shrugged. “That’ll happen anyway. I get to see you once. I want to see you now.”

Quilla smiled briefly. Even amid the greatest misery, Sinitïa could draw out a sliver of happiness.

Sinitïa’s apartments had the same basic layout as Garet’s, but the sitting room couldn’t have been more different. Garet had never been one for much decoration, so his apartments had been fairly spartan until Quilla had arrived. Quilla had added a bit of decoration: a few plants here and there, and a couple of additional paintings for the walls.

Sinitïa’s sitting room, on the other hand was full of clutter. There was an actual seating area pushed against one wall with a couple of paint-splattered chairs. Throughout the rest of the room stood several easels, each with partially finished paintings on them. Stacks of canvas, jars of brushes, and buckets of paint lay in various places. Paintings covered the walls and scores more sat in stacks on the floor or leaning against the walls. Many of the hanging paintings were portraits of the King and other family members, but there were also numerous landscape scenes—mostly of the Palace gardens—and several paintings of dogs, cats, and other animals.

Sinitïa herself was wearing a paint-splattered apron over an equally paint-splattered kirtle. Her fingers were smudged with paint and her cheeks bore a couple of streaks presumably caused by tears running through paint specks.

Sinitïa took Quilla’s hand, her fingers sticky. She led Quilla to a table containing an artist’s palette, several jars of paint, and a dozen or more brushes. “I’m going to paint a portrait of Garet for his funeral. I have several others, but they’re not very good because he would never sit still. But I thought if I use those as references, I can paint him from memory and do a better job. I hope. What do you think of these shades?” She indicated several blobs of brown paint on the palette.

Quilla stared at the paint. Some were a little darker; others a little brighter.. For the most part, she couldn’t tell much difference. She should probably say something, though. “Are they for his hair?”

“His hair, his eyes. It depends.” Sinitïa pointed to the different blobs. “These ones might work for his hair depending on how I set up the lighting. This one here with the extra yellow might work for his eyes if they’re reflecting the light just right. I’m just experimenting with possibilities for the moment before I start the actual painting. Is that Meleng’s letter?”

Quilla smirked and held up the letter. “It is.”

Sinitïa beamed.

Quilla motioned to the chairs against the other wall. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”

“Della!” Sinitïa called out. “Wine please!”

As Quilla took a seat, one of Sinitïa’s handmaids approached with a tray of goblets. Quilla hadn’t noticed Sinitïa’s handmaids at first, but several were emerging from behind canvas stacks and easels.

Quilla took a goblet as three other handmaids surrounded Sinitïa. The Princess raised her arms as one lifted the apron off her. A second dabbed at Sinitïa’s cheeks with a cloth, wiping away the paint-tear streaks, while the third wiped one hand and then the other. They did it with practised precision. Sinitïa didn’t even stop walking towards the chairs as the handmaids did their work.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

When she reached the chairs, the three handmaids backed away while Della offered the tray to her. She shook her head, and Della backed away. Sinitïa sat down and looked expectantly at Quilla.

Quilla sipped the wine. It was sweeter than the variety Garet had usually kept his apartments stocked with. She liked it. She should send Marna to get some of the same kind. “Not having any?”

Sinitïa shrugged. “I don’t really like wine that much. Besides, I’m too excited to drink anything right now.” Her gaze moved to the letter now in Quilla’s lap.

Quilla took another sip, then handed the letter to Sinitïa. “Before you open it, you should know…” She looked over to Della, then back at Sinitïa.

Sinitïa stared at her waiting.

Quilla nodded back towards Della again.

Sinitïa’s gaze moved to Della then back to Quilla. “What’s the matter? Do you want more? Della, bring her more wine.”

Quilla shook her head. “No, that’s fine. I’ve got loads. I just…” She nodded once more towards Della, who was backing away after having just started to come forward.

Sinitïa shrugged. “I don’t understand.”

Quilla sighed and leaned towards Sinitïa. “I need to tell you something privately.”

Sinitïa’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Oh! You should have just said.” She waved Della away. “You and the others wait in your chambers.”

Della curtsied, and she and the other handmaids withdrew.

“What did you want to tell me?” Sinitïa asked.

“Just that Meleng’s in Arnor City.”

Sinitïa’s eyes widened even more. “He is?”

Quilla put a finger to her lips. “Only for a short time, but no one can know because he’s banished, remember? He’s not supposed to be in the city, so don’t tell anyone, especially Annai or your mother.”

Sinitïa nodded multiple times. “What’s he doing?”

“He probably tells you in the letter.” Quilla took another sip of wine. Her goblet was getting low and she realised her sips had been somewhat larger and longer. She should have asked Della to leave the wine tray.

Sinitïa broke the seal on the letter and leafed through the pages. “It’s so long.”

“Well, you know Meleng and his books.”

Sinitïa stopped leafing and stared at the first page.

Quilla took another sip of wine.

“I’m not a very good reader.” Sinitïa held the page closer to her face and squinted. “His writing’s really neat though. I like when writing is neat, ’cause then I can read it. Father’s writing is messy. I can’t read it at all.”

Sinitïa continued to stare at the letter for a while. Eventually she made a small squeal. “He says Nin-Akna wants me to know she’s taken good care of him and…” She squinted at the page again. “‘She...has...not...let...me...go...far… be...be…’ I’m not sure what the next word is. ‘Be..ya...yond. Beyond!’ That’s it! ‘She has not let me go far beyond her sight.’ Isn’t that nice?”

“Mm.” Quilla took another sip and finished the goblet as Sinitïa sounded out more words. A few minutes passed and Sinitïa was still on the first page. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

“Would you?”

Quilla placed her empty goblet on the small table beside her chair. It was unlike her to finish a drink so quickly. Garet could be a big drinker, but she could usually nurse a single cup of wine for hours. She held out her hand.

Sinitïa held the letter out to her, and Quilla scanned it quickly for where Sinitïa had left off. The Princess was right; Meleng’s writing was very neat. For some reason, Quilla had expected Meleng to be a messy writer. Maybe it was just an expectation she had of scholarly people.

She was about to start reading when it occurred to her there might be something private in the letter. No, Meleng was the type who would be too embarrassed to write about private things, especially if it was to express attraction or love. Besides, Meleng insisted he wasn’t interested in those sorts of things, though Quilla doubted that. She was sure he only said that to hide his embarrassment, though Felitïa believed it and Felitïa could read minds. Damn Felitïa.

Garet had once written the most wonderful letter when he’d gone away for a few days. He had never been afraid to say what he felt, and there had been some raunchy bits to the letter.

“There are some big words in it,” Sinitïa said. “Meleng’s really smart.”

Quilla wiped away a fresh tear. “Yes, some big words. I’ve got it now though.”

She began to read. It was mostly an abbreviated account of what had happened in Ninifin and then a description of what Meleng and Jorvan would be doing in Isyaria.

“I wish I could go to Isyaria,” Sinitïa said. “It must be so beautiful there and so much to paint.”

Quilla looked longingly at her empty goblet. Reading aloud had dried her mouth again. “It’ll be a while before they get a ship. Maybe if you went into the city to find them, they’d take you along.”

“You think so?”

Quilla grimaced. That hadn’t been a wise thing to say. She had never been able to handle large amounts of drink. It had only been one goblet, but she’d drunk it so much faster than she was used to.

She shook her head. “They might, but as I think about it, it would be hard to find them. Arnor City is a big place, and they might have already found a ship anyway. Sorry.”

Sinitïa frowned. “That’s okay. Mother would never let me go anyway.” She sighed. “I do wish I could see him though. I’ve got a new painting I want to give him. It’s over here.” She leapt to her feet and rushed over to one of the many stacks in the room. “Now where did I put it?”

“Sinitïa, can I ask you a personal question?” Quilla asked.

“If you want, sure. Here it is!” She held up a painting and turned it towards Quilla. It was a painting of Meleng and Felitïa. “I had to do it from memory.”

The angle and distance wasn’t very good, so it was hard to take a good look at it, but it looked good enough to Quilla’s untrained and slightly tipsy eyes. “It looks fine.”

Sinitïa beamed and hugged the painting against her chest as she skipped back over to the chairs. “You wanted to ask a question?”

Quilla hesitated. Was it right to probe this way?

Sinitïa looked on, still clutching the painting to her chest.

“Do you love Meleng?”

Sinitïa scrunched her nose and her smile drooped a little. “Yes, of course I do.”

Quilla nodded. She’d thought so.

“He’s my friend, but that’s not what you mean, is it?”

Quilla grimaced.

“You mean in the mushy, get married way. Mother says I have to get married one day, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to have children either. Annai does, and she says I should too. She says Meleng’s only nice to me because he wants to sleep with me, and when she says sleep, she doesn’t mean sleep. She means sex. But I know she’s wrong. Meleng’s my friend, and I love him. But I don’t want to have sex with him and he doesn’t want to have sex with me, and I like that.” She smiled. “Okay?”

Quilla sighed. “Sorry to pry.” Damn Felitïa! She’d been right there, too. It was a silly thing to be bothered by. It had been one brief moment on Scovese and Quilla had mostly forgotten about it until now. But she needed Felitïa to be wrong about something. Just one thing.

Sinitïa held up the painting and turned it so she could look at it herself. “That’s okay. I just don’t like how everyone thinks Meleng isn’t honest. Even Father thinks Meleng wants to court me. He’s hardly even met Meleng.”

Quilla nodded, then looked away from Sinitïa. She hated herself for adding more to what Sinitïa’s family was already doing to her.

Sinitïa held the picture out to her. “You can have it if you want. No, wait. I’ve got a better one for you.” She spun around and rushed across the room. She put the painting on top of a stack of paintings, then started going through another stack. A short while later, she grabbed another painting and rushed back to Quilla, holding it up.

It was a painting of Garet. Just his face. He was grinning in the way he did when he was excited about something. Quilla wiped a tear from her eye.

“It’s not the best, but you can have it. You can have the new one, too, when it’s finished.”

The likeness was very good. She’d even gotten the small scar over his left eyebrow that almost no one noticed. If this was what she considered “not the best”, Quilla had to wonder what she considered the best.

Quilla wiped away more tears and took the painting. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

Sinitïa hugged her. “Thank you for bringing me Meleng’s letter.”