37
(William Black, Annie Schindel- Remedy)
Tells
I didn’t even know what was going on. Simira grabbed me and pulled me away. She yelled something at Tarynn. She said something to me. Staring. I was staring forward. She pulled me off. Said something. I yelled something. A lot of things, no idea what, though. She didn’t yell over me, though, she seemed genuinely hurt. Then she helped me to my room. I was laying on my cot. That scratchy cot. Dark wooden wall across from me. Mirror.
Who is she? Why does she look so sad? That woman in the mirror, tears are pouring out of her shocked violet eyes. Dreadful eyes. Hopeless eyes. Grieving eyes. Emotionless face. Oh. Right. She’s me. I’m crying. My best friend, she… her heart-
I reeled over, vomiting into the waste bucket next to my bed. My hair fell in front with it, catching on my mouth, face, neck. Retching into the bucket, my stomach constricting, burning up my throat, hacking out my mouth.
God help me. What- what- what’s happening?
He took her. He ran. He left without me.
What do I do? Where are they? Why didn’t he wait? Grab me? Call out to me?
The burning in my throat spread to my heart. Burning rage piling up inside of me.
Break crush break crush break crush I just want to break crush break crush break crush BREAK CRUSH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
A brick tumbled from the crater in the wall before me, hands shrinking from whatever large, clawed, yeffen fists they’d become. The image just kept playing back in my mind. That moment on repeat, staining my memory with her blood.
Her heart. The ripping. The pool, how her organs fell from her body.
My stomach heaved, pulling me back to the bucket. Vomit. So much. Burning through my nose, mouth, throat. That taste. That horrible taste. Cold sweat running down my head. That stench of vomit, death.
My head… it’s pounding, it’s so tired. I’m so tired…
I fell into my pillow, wiped away the droplets of splashed puke, and passed out.
* * * * *
I woke up the next morning wiping dried tears, sweat, and bile from my face. My mouth tasted like death… like death. I sat up in bed, feeling like nothing had changed for a second, like it was still the plan to get us all out of here and then go off and do whatever we wanted.
Now there are just four of us, if Brenden and Desmond are even still alive.
I’m scared.
What if Vetia dying splits us apart?
What if Brenden and Desmond hate us for letting her die?
I remembered a time back on Earth, when we found out Adam was in the hospital. We couldn’t even visit. Just saw him two days later wearing a neck brace. The rope snapped. In those two days, we talked more than we ever had before. Somehow it brought us together even more. We checked in on each other. We made sure everyone was okay. We were always able to talk somehow, always keeping in contact. And then we had all of that taken from us in this world.
And then Simira took Vetia from us.
There was knocking at the door. “Miss Tells?” It was Elmira, one of the child servants that the manor used to deliver messages. “Adam has returned. The Lord wishes to speak with both of you.”
The sound of somebody else’s voice rattled me, though I didn’t move. I could barely move, my body ached so badly. “Kay.”
I rolled up, my head hanging. I couldn’t find the energy to move like I’d been taught. My legs slovenly dragged to the door past the small mirror on the wall. There was a woman in the mirror, heavy bags under her eyes, a mess of brown hair and an air about her like she had just crawled out of a well because some dipshit put on a cursed video tape.
I swung the door open and loomed over the young girl, maybe seven or eight at most, a little jorlad girl.
I put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped, pinching her nose. I lowered my face to the little statue and smiled as best I could, croaking, “Thanks Elmira. Please inform the lord that I won’t keep him waiting long.”
Poor girl, she had been stuck here her whole life and would probably never be freed from it. She nodded and skittered on down the hall. The door swung back into place, and I leaned my head against it. There were still tears on my face. Fresh ones, falling to the floor from the streams down my tired cheeks. I didn’t even know how I could still be crying. My mouth felt like it was full of bile flavored cotton. I was parched with a headache, dizzy as I tried to push off of the door.
Why can’t I just lay down and give up? Why won’t I let myself?
It was so hard to move. My body didn’t want to move, like every step was laborious. My hand didn’t want to leave the doorknob. It wanted to hang there, in that brief moment before I had to go back to living like she wasn’t even dead.
I don’t care about how I look for the meeting. The viscount can suck my dick.
I shot back a warm cup of water that had been sitting next to my bed and pushed my hair back out from in front of my face. And I lumbered like a zombie through the halls of the manor.
Adam stood in the foyer before the Viscount’s throne room. He was talking to General Fez like nothing was wrong at all.
I walked over to him, interrupting Papa Smurf. “You’re looking just peachy today.”
He turned around and scowled. “I was speaking, servant. His demeanor is optimistic because the Viscount is being merciful after your friend acted to rashly and casted threats upon his daughter." The next few words spewed out of his mouth like venom. "Self-rule. Freedom. They’re myths told by people who wish for chaos and disorder, who seek naught but self indulgence. If she wanted it so adamantly, then she can have it in death as she wanted. This court has no time for strife.”
“They’re possible when you aren’t being chained and forced to do labor.”
“Then follow your friend and disgrace Adam and yourself further. Do it before you lose your mind and commit some heinous act against your nobility. You're halfway there already by the looks of it, by the way you insulted Lady Simira. I’d have your head if she didn’t stay my hand.”
My mouth was about to start saying some terrible things, but Adam stepped between us and put a hand over it. “Captain Zev. On Tells’ behalf, I am very sorry for any disrespect. The past day has been difficult for both of us, moreso than the rest of the witnesses of the trial. Tells appears to have been affected quite a lot. You see how she looks. Please allow us to have a brief moment to grieve our friend and look past any offenses.”
I couldn’t see the guy from behind Adam, but he grunted something and turned around while Adam pushed me to the other side of the foyer.
“Tells,” he spoke in a hushed voice, frequently looking over his shoulder, “I know this is a tough time, but we have to be strong. We’ve gotta worry about what we’re gonna do now.” He leaned in closer to barely a whisper. “We gotta worry about that plan to get outta here.”
The door behind him burst open and Lady Simira, disheveled and infuriated, stomped out of the room. Her eyes locked onto me immediately, clutched my shoulder aggressively. My eyes shot wide open upon seeing her, and she slowly released me.
A raspy old voice called out from inside the throne room. “Daughter! Unhand that servant! I have called her here for my own reasons. Do not delay my business, after your failures!. And hold yourself from battering the other servants again. The cur should suffice for you.”
“Yes, Father.” Simira’s eyes fell away from me, and she swiftly trudged off, disappearing around a corner. Captain Zev hesitantly followed her from a distance, but only after shooting me a disgusted look.
“Servants! Enter.” His words were like icicles and his eyes wore heavy bags adorned by ego and apathy.
Adam and I stepped into the room we were in not but 24 hours ago, speckles of dried blood still garnishing the dusty slate floor. I saw her sitting there for a moment as my heart jumped. I blinked it away and breathed, trying to calm my racing pulse.
“The events of the past day have been difficult for all of us to make sense of. Your friend was a valuable asset to this manor, and to see the way my daughter has faltered in handling her is a shame on the Amien House. Our name. Simira is but a broken child clinging to the memory of her mother, and must learn to lead her people so that they will not flay themselves beneath her. No more servants will be killing themselves under her for the sanctity of this house I have so carefully upkept. If one of you acts out of turn, your counterpart will be headless that very day. Jinian, you will report the details of her passage rites to Captain Zev.”
“Viscount Amien, I have already informed the Captain of her burial.” Adam bowed his head in a salute.
“Remarkable. Such manners from you must be the result of the Captain’s teachings. I see now that my daughter taught her personal servant nonesuch.” His nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed at me. “You’re filthy and smell like death. Shed your pride, servant, act your place. Lower your eyes!”
“What? When you’re the one-”
“Tells!” Adam cut me off, glaring over at me. A spearhead poked at my chest and I lowered my eyes to meet it as the guard stepped back. I quickly saluted. “My apologies, Viscount Amien.”
“You should take after the jinian more.” The Viscount grunted and leaned forward. “I have been informed that you were very close to your friend, the regenerator. You knew her for your entire lives. This is true?”
Adam quickly spoke before I could get a word out. “Yes, my Lord. We have all been best friends for nearly our entire lives.”
“Then you are acquainted with her family? You are from a town some distance from Poikla Village, yes?”
“Yes, my Lord. And we know them fairly well.”
“Was she from a line of regenerators? So commonly they are distinguished families. I have not heard of her name, perhaps it is lonsu? I would like to personally inform such a valuable family of what has transpired.” He leaned almost to stand from his seat, an opportunistic, greedy hunger in his eyes.
“Unfortunately, my Lord. She was the only regenerator.”
The Viscount’s cold stare returned and he leaned back. “That is most unfortunate. You are no longer needed. Be on your way.”
We both saluted, poked out with spears at our backs. The doors creaked shut and we slowly walked down the hall until the guards at the door were out of earshot.
“Tells.” Adam stopped walking in the middle of the corridor and gazed down at me, “We’ve gotta talk about what happened.”
His tone irked me. He sounded so nonchalant, even condescending in a way. I felt like I was going to fall into a tearful rage. “We? You don’t seem like you need to talk at all. You’ve got everything lined up for you. You got to take her away, bury her, say your goodbyes, and you had the rest of the night off! It must have been great for you to be in such a chipper mood this morning. Must have had a great funeral. Is her body even gonna be there when we get out of here?! Am I gonna get to say bye?! Or did you just throw her into the woods and be done with her so you can get back to being Zev’s fuckin’ boy toy?!”
“I told Zev that I buried her in the woods out past the farms.”
“You just fucking threw her away and left, didn’t you?!”
“Tells, you’re not yourself right now-”
“Nah, I think I’m more myself than I’ve been in a while!”
“You’re angry and yelling. That’s okay! You’ve gotta let it out in a healthy way, sleep on it.” He was trying to seem all hushed and pretentious like a therapist.
“Don’t lecture me on my own fucking issues. I’ll deal with ‘em how I want.”
“Please, just breathe for a second! You’re acting like you’ve lost your shit!”
“Lost my shit?! Yeah, I lost one of my best fucking friends and you don’t seem like you even care!”
“I do care and I want to help, you’ve just gotta calm down.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm after all that?!”
“Tells, just try to breathe, okay?” His faux sympathy and awkward stance infuriated me to no end. So much pressure in my head, all of it falling from my eyes. Every muscle in my body stressed. I couldn’t help wanting to absolutely lay into Adam.
My fists clenched and I pounded at him blindly. Wherever my arms could find. Gut, arm, chest, shoulder, anywhere my rage wanted. He grabbed at my arms to stop me, his tree trunks flailing and missing every time like the big lug he was.
“Tells! Tells! Ah, shit!”
His collarbone cracked, but my mind didn’t care to stop. Next thing I knew, my arms were locked against my chest and Adam was holding me so close I couldn’t breath. I pushed as hard as I could to get out of his deathlock, every push, breaking his grip just a little. As I was about to slip free, he put his mouth right to my ear and almost inaudibly whispered to me.
“She- Vetia is- she’s…” He took a long pause. “She told me something, when she grabbed me. She said the Viscount was going to kill her anyway, and she didn’t want to let him. Tells, there wasn’t a way for us to save her in time. Didn’t you see the sigil? Weren’t you there? It nearly killed her. It made her crazy. If she was still alive, they would have made her do it again.”
He let go of me and I fell backward, my entire body still pulsing with anger. His face finally showed a little regret, but I was beyond caring about it.
“Then we would have broken her out. I’m sure Brenden and Desmond are out there somewhere working on something! I’ve been trying this whole time, getting used like a tool by the one who drove our friend to suicide! You couldn’t just have a little faith in your friends, though! You couldn’t just get your head out of the fucking clouds and come back down to reality! I wanted to rely on you, but it’s like you’ve bent over and given up! You’re happy to stay here forever because you’ve got it made, the strongest in the guard. Fuck that! Fuck you! Stupid fucking retard!”
He seemed like he was tearing up. “Tells, I’m sorry. I wish I could… I wish you could know… but I don’t know. I don’t know what she wanted me to do. What she still wants me to do. You should have been the one to take her out and help her, not me. I’ve got no fucking clue what the next step is. I’m just doing what she wanted. What she would have wanted. We’re all in the den of people who hate us and they’re always listening and reading into our every action. I think she was right.”
“You think she was right? So you both just gave up? Fuck you. Maybe just go kill yourself with her and I’ll get out of here myself.” My teeth ground against each other and my whole being shook violently. Blurry, muddied, confusing to hear and look at, and it was all welling up into my extremities, ready to tear down the next wall I saw. I whipped around and stomped away from Adam.
“Wait! Tells, please. She’s-” His hand grabbed my shoulder and like a reflex, my huge fist whirled toward him, slamming into the side of his head. His massive body tumbled to the side and pounded into the manor wall, falling limp.
My blood went cold for a second. Still shaking, I stared at his motionless body. It twitched, and he started moving his head, eyes not open yet. I couldn’t bear going through all of that again, so I just took off. I ran away back to Simira’s side of the manor.
The wing where the servants dwelled was quiet that morning. Whenever I was around, nobody spoke. I had become a complete outcast.
Why am I so fucking exhausted already? Why can’t I even cry anymore? Why can’t I feel anything? What day is it? Oh… right, bath day. Gotta clean the baths.
I may as well have been in a cleaning trance, not a thought in my head. Just tiredness and the need to get my job done. After a while of being in the cleaned rooms, the filth on me became pungent. The taste of rancid bile lingered from the night before. Nobody would be coming, so I took advantage of the time. I cleaned myself, head to toe, in the cool water of the dormant baths. The lack of heat was more relaxing than not. I didn’t want to be hot, I wanted to sink and drown. I unscrewed the small cup of minty paste that we used to clean our teeth, mouths, and everything else. There were no toothbrushes, but even just using my nails to pick and scratch away was fine enough. So that’s what I did. I picked and scratched and cleaned myself until the memory was all I had left of yesterday.
I dressed and dried, and then… nothing.
I can’t have nothing to do. I need something to… to- distract myself with. Book? No can’t focus. Work! Gotta be something I can do…
What if I had done something? Could I have done something? I don’t remember what I said to Adam or Simira for that matter. Simira. Fuck. I don’t wanna look at her. I don’t wanna think about her. None of this would have happened without her.
NO! I can’t let myself think like this. I know this isn’t what she wanted to happen, but…
I left the baths and walked around the manor, looking for something to do, not even realizing it was already sunset. My entire being was on autopilot, trying to make it impossible for me to retreat back into my head. Work time was almost done, which meant I was about to be left with even more of nothing to do. I found myself in the hallways by the training grounds, by the infirmary that I never had the chance to visit.
I didn’t even get to speak to her.
“Tells!” Captain Zev’s voice boomed from down the hall. He strode up to me, a stack of planks in his hands. “Give these to Lady Simira, I do not have time to trek to the other side of the manor right now.”
He looked down at me sternly, holding out the planks.
I can’t stand that blue cuck, and I don’t even know why.
“Yes sir.” I took them from him and walked away without another glance. It was something to do.
“Tell her they are the registrations for the new recruits. They only need to be approved and signed.”
“Yes sir.” I didn’t stop walking, but I heard him scoff behind me.
“If you continue such rude behavior, I will inform the lady of your manners. She will not be appreciative of it.”
I stopped, turned around, and lowered my head at the petty asshat. “Very well, sir.” The easiest way to be done with him was just to do what I was taught.
I just have to be strong enough to last until this is over. That’s all I can do.
I turned and walked away, anxious at what I would find when I saw Lady Simira. I had ignored her all day.
In a mindless droning, I arrived at the door to Lady Simira's study. No sound came from inside. No response when I knocked. I waited and knocked again, same thing. I couldn’t take the planks and hold them until the morning, so I had to leave them somewhere. I tried the handle, and it was unlocked, so I gently opened the door. Her office was dark, only a few streaks of blue twilight illuminating the floor. I checked to make sure I wasn’t interrupting her meditation, then slipped in and quietly dropped the registrations on her desk.
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The door shot shut while I was in front of her desk. I almost jumped out of my skin, spinning around alertly. Chills colder than the already frosty autumn night shot up my spine. A shadow stood, locking the closed door. It was about my height, wearing a long, loose robe with a glass in one hand and a scimitar in the other. The figure raised the sword up to me lazily.
“What have you come for? Unannounced and in the dark. Shouldn't no response mean no entry? Unless, of course, you’ve come to kill me?” Simira stepped into a sliver of light. I was expecting her usual aggressive stance and dignified posture, but her demeanor was melancholy and exhausted. Her unbraided hair draped loosely, her robe the only thing on her, tied shut by a tight scabbard belt and a loose sash.
“These are from Captain Zev. Re- registrations for new recruits. I-I-I did not want to hold them due to the urgent nature of the documents.” I stood up straight and tried to seem as polite as possible, averting my eyes down to the ground as soon as I realized I was staring at her.
She hiccupped and chuckled, holding the sword under my chin, forcing my head slightly up. She spoke slowly, in a strangely sensual whisper. “You’re sure you’re not an assassin, sent in the night to have my head?”
“I-I-I-I-”
“Shhhhh…” The tip of the scimitar twisted around my jaw so the side of her cold blade laid flat against my cheek. She swayed gently like a dancer, but the scimitar was completely still.
My eyes wanted to break again, seeing her, and a seething anger rose in my chest again. Tears started streaming down my cheeks. “She was my best friend.” I grimaced and wailed at her. “SHE WAS MY BEST FUCKIN’ FRIEND AND NOW SHE’S DEAD CAUSE OF YOU! WHAT, YOU’RE JUST GONNA DRINK IT ALL AWAY?! FUCKIN’ PATH-”
In a flash, she slid the back of the scimitar against my head, and around it, pulling me toward her. I finally caught a glimpse of her face, her moist freckled cheeks, heavy gray eye sockets, exhausted eyelids, broken expression, shaking voice. “We all have our vices, Tells. Even I, in all my self-ordained discipline, cannot bear the death of an innocent woman staining my soul. Even I cannot uphold my end, my word, my promise. Ah, but you’ve said it best, that you were stupid trusting me, for letting me live.” She lowered her head, breathing, spinning the wine in her glass idly and pulling me closer. “If I’m drunk enough, I can stay my pride enough to admit my wrongs. If only I weren't so foolish in my decisions that brought us to this.”
“Yeah?” My jaw shook, angry, but unable to hate the despairing woman not three inches from my face. “Couldn’t have realized it sooner?”
“Please, spare the words, I can’t bear hearing any part of it again. It’s already echoing in my head.” Simira shook her head, taking in a sharp breath. “I’d hardly interacted with the prior regenerators because I abhor his ways… and yet I fell into those ways myself.” Simira’s face was empty, broken, shameful. “I have killed men and women on the field of battle. I have killed men who would force themselves upon me. I have caused the deaths of one hundred twenty three men and women. Yet all of them… they subscribed to war and stepped onto the field of their own volition, assaulted me of their own perversion. She merely criticized me. Why does one death hold so much weight over me now?” The scimitar dropped from behind my neck and returned to its sheath. Her dripping amber eyes dodged my own gaze as she leaned back to standing straight up. “I know you’re not here to kill me. She wouldn’t put a friend in danger, even if she was mad.”
Tears continued blazing trails down my cheeks, and I couldn’t bear it anymore. “Great, Lady Simira. I’m glad that’s all it took for you to realize-”
“Enough! Please! I hear it in my head enough already!” Simira swayed even closer, her empty hand reaching out toward the cheek her blade rested upon. Her tired whispers were all I heard. “Enough of that for now.”
Her hand caressed over my ear, combing her fingers through my hair, shooting shivers down my back. In the faint light, her tired and lackadaisical eyes gazed into mine with a strange warmth. She twirled the end of my hair in front of me and sipped from her glass, swaying for a moment as her eyes settled back on my face.
Why is she so close? What is she doing? What’s going on?
“Have a good night, Milady.” I began walking past her, but she rested her hand on my arm and spoke softly to me.
“Wait.” She grabbed the back of my head, tugging at my hair until my bun was undone, hair flowing down over my shoulders. She was barely a foot from me, a relaxed smile on her melancholy face as her eyes slowly took in mine. “Twilight has such a curious manner of twisting shadows in such beautiful ways.” She whispered to herself and brushed the hair behind my ear again. Wine wafted off of her breath, her body gently swaying as she stood before me.
The fuck is she doing?
“Lady Simira, I was not aware you were drinking tonight. I would not have disturbed you if-”
She pressed her fingers to my mouth and sighed, letting them fall. “No honorifics, no titles. Not tonight. Come. Will you sit with me? Please. I need to apologize, but I’m not ready now.” Her eyes shimmered, breaking with tears again, like a child begging for just a sliver of attention. “Please.”
I’ve been constantly with her for basically a month, and I can’t say she hasn’t grown on me. I’ve come to respect her, even like her in some ways. But why is she suddenly so desperate? And why toward me? Is it because she’s drunk?
I nodded and she gently took my hand, a sigh of relief escaping her mouth. “Do you drink? Would you like some wine?”
“It doesn’t do anything to me.”
She tilted her head at me and shrugged, then filled her glass to the brim, sipped it to where it wouldn’t spill, and took my hand, leading me to the other door in the back of her study. Behind the door was a refined bedroom. Dark wooden floors, a massive bed adorned with orange curtains, lush sheets, and a tough, old mattress. An amber stone next to her bed was the only source of light in the room. Everything was perfectly neat and tidy, everything except Lady Simira.
She untied her belt and laid her sword on the floor, pulling her sash tighter. She pulled back the sheets and sat on the bed, guiding me down next to her, leaning her head on my shoulder.
"Today has been painful, hasn't it? Rarely does good come from death, strife among friends. I heard that you hurt Adam badly, and yet he claimed to be at fault."
"What? He did?"
"Or so Andris says. He despises you for your impassioned remark against me. He’s afraid you're trouble."
I let silence hang for a moment. "You brought me back to my room and out of there. I didn’t get to thank you."
“I did what I could. What you would allow. I know I’m no friend to you, but I’m still grateful to have a… person who is so kind… forgiving. Somebody unsullied by the cruelty of this world.”
I half shrugged. “Well, nobody else talks to me. Nobody else wants me around.”
"And they’re all fools for it." She wrapped an arm around me and chuckled lightly. "I never thought I’d find somebody to discuss such lofty, pointless, but interesting matters with, in such an obscure village. Have you read it yet?"
“The first two stories, yeah.”
“What did you think?”
I paused. “Djodie-Djodieted? He’s-”
A light laugh slipped out. “Djoteided and Larmeonip.”
“Mhm. I like the points that Larmeonip makes, about how there’s no one certain answer to what makes us people, that our experiences, our minds, our love are what make us people.”
She smirked. “It’s such a strange thing to ask a man if he is a man or a beast. But I fear not enough people ask it of themselves, and they never learn the joys, the happiness that lies in being human. In having such experiences, minds, loves.”
I let out a wry chuckle. “But also, Djoteided is just a drunk guy yelling at a homeless man over the wildest things, and he acts like such a genius but he’s been out-questioned twice. It’s such a strange situation, and he’s so mean to Larmeonip for no reason.”
“Ay, the stuped are often bold and rash, even desperate.” Simira sighed. “They’re so at odds with each other initially, but it’s endearing how such an incredible, tragic friendship emerges from their bickering…” Her face fell. “It feels so plausibly simple, asking questions, but to actually live and think as Larmeonip does… it requires such sacrifice. Such reason. Such maturity.”
Simira slid closer, so warm against me, laying so casually, so warm. My thoughts were all over the place, only managing to get out a short sentence. “But he’s a liar.”
She didn’t respond, just furrowed her brows.
“The… first two times he speaks, he opens with a lie that Djoteided catches him in toward the end, but he believes Larmeonip because he isn’t questioning anything he’s told.” I finally checked in with myself, realizing I was stiff as a board, hadn’t moved or even shifted since I sat down.
“Oh, I thought you’d read ahead, but that… I must have missed it…” she tilted her head up at me and raised her eyebrows playfully, “unless you’re the one lying.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever lied to you.”
“There’s no way… not even a little one?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“Fine. I’ll trust you, even if you’re as rigid in body as in your voice.” She sat up, a cold void where she’d once been. “I make you uncomfortable.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.
“I have no right to treat you in so close a way after all the pain I’ve caused you.” Her eyes fell, slouching over her wine as she lamented. “I’m… sorry, it must be the wine. I’ve just… I’ve never known anyone who inspired me to be better than I am. I thought I’d solved everything, that my will was certain. Until I met your lot. It made me angry, and I took it out on your friend. Because how could I be at fault? And then I thought that would be the end, I’d use you to get what I want, but then you confronted me as I descended into cruelty and my own faults were the only ones I could find.” She took a heavy swig from her glass and cleared her throat. “I’ll release you and Adam so that no more damage may be done, and have your compensation to you by morning. I don’t think there’s any more to be done on your end, I killed your reason for being here, and I can’t bear another innocent dying for my scheme.”
“Lady Si-”
“Don’t…” her words shook. “Don’t… this is not how a noble… a Lady acts. I may as well cast off my title and collect it again come morning, so for now, do not call me Lady. Why are you still here? Have you not what you want? Release?”
“Simira…” she leaned toward me, shivering upon hearing her lone name. “What was the reason for your anger back then?”
She shook her head, leaning her head in her hand for a moment before sitting upright, surrendering to whatever battle had been in her head. “In short, he is committed, and I need that in my plan, but I didn’t need to be so cruel.” She slumped, regretful, ashamed. “In truth, I was only cruel because I’m such a lonely piece of shit.” Her eyes broke and she spoke in a low voice. “In my misery, I thought why should he be allowed happiness, if even short-lived? A man who has never put effort into anything but running is suddenly bounding through a short, blissful dream while I’ve only been condemned to suffering at his cowardice. Why can't I have anything? Why can’t I be loved? Why am I not allowed some tenderness to free my mind from this prison of rule and law? After all I’ve endured: war, near-death, all my failures; when do I get something? I’ve been waiting and searching, and every opportunity is blocked by circumstances out of my control, yet of my own creation, of our agreement in which he ran from his duty, casting it onto me. I didn’t even get my mother, never a hug since she died, just a cruel teacher in her place. I don’t want that for anyone else, but I don’t know love to give it. I’m too spiteful. Spite is all I know, it’s all that’s kept me going.” Simira’s head fell toward her glass, her lips inching closer like she’d been in a desert for weeks with nothing to drink.
I gently rested my hand on the glass and guided her hand to the bedside table. Not a single tremble or fidget in her body resisted, and I pulled her into an embrace, letting her head fall onto my chest, all her barriers breaking. The spot her head laid was soaked in an instant, only spreading further as she silently cried, clinging on for dear life like she’d been pulled straight out of a brutal war.
She pulled her arms away, shaking her head. “This isn’t womanly. This isn’t how I should-”
I pulled her tighter so she couldn’t speak, fighting my own tears back. “It’s human. It’s okay to be human.”
Simira broke into two shivers, jittery, like she was heaving, battling something inside of her, only to finally break down, weeping into my chest, clutching my back like she was clawing to keep me close. Quiet, sharp breaths and bouts of silent screaming became the next… however long it lasted. I hushed her and stroked the back of her head like I’d calmed my younger siblings when they were young, like I’d been held by my mom when I had nowhere else to go.
What do I say? What would mom and dad say? Nothing fits for her. Nothing I’ve been through.
My hands guided her to lay next to me, then pulled the covers up. Comfortable, protected, private.
Her crying relaxed, still somehow pulling tighter into me, an indignant fury underlying her voice. “I don’t want to die, not yet, not before I’ve at least tasted true happiness. And yet I’ve known my life cannot end happily since the day I was born into this name. I made my peace with that, and I am on a warpath to find it, to make it, but how long… how long must I continue this fight? How long must I toil for my people against those above who have never known the nobility of our position? Why must the truly noble know how to find happiness, but not how to give it? Why must they reject power so that the soulless scum may take such places? Is it because they know that corruption of power is inherent? Or is power only corrupting because the hierarchy was built by vain, greedy cowards who built a world in which only the filthiest thrive? Can I still be a ruler and good? Is it possible? Must I be the sacrifice to find the truth to power? I know you cannot answer for truth, but can you answer this for me: What does it mean to rule? To you.”
I thought for a long moment, wiping my tears away, reflecting on everything I’d learned, every story, movie, and real life instance I’d witnessed. “There’s a story of a man from my home, a man who the people called king, but who never called himself king to them. A man who walked among the people, showing them what good is, a man who was absolute, but forgiving. He served his father, the Lord of his people, in an effort to teach the world to be good because he believed we could be saved from our own selves. He embodied discipline, forgiveness, humility, having not written a story of himself, only remembered by the stories his followers told of him.”
“What became of his people?”
“They worshiped, broke apart, argued how to worship and serve, committed atrocities against each other, and then fell to an ideology.”
“Did he not rule them? Ensure they would act righteous?”
“The people killed him. The same as countless others who came before him, tried to be like him, from every other place, who tried teaching our people to be good. Pastors, philosophers, professors. Assassinated, executed, tortured to death, but unwavering in their beliefs. All people who fought for the people who killed them, all people who would question what is evil.”
She curled lower into herself. “Then why am I fighting a war that cannot be won? What am I doing? I’m just a woman, not a savior, not a king.”
“So am I. We’re all human, searching for something to live for, something to die for. Your people see that in you, they see that you’re a human.”
She weakly gazed at her hand. “Ay, but if only I weren’t. Had I all the power in Rhial, I’d fix it in but a moment. But what would become of me, of my people. Are we even human if we are not at constant war against the evil within ourselves? What hope is there in fighting? I’m not sure I even know what good is.”
“Then simply be unwavering in the face of evil, and you will act with goodness.”
“Perhaps I’ve been conditioned into accepting evil and I can no longer parse evil from good.”
“Then why do you reflect on it?”
“Because evil is not the destruction of good. Evil creates good. Apathy kills goodness. That’s why they say: Good dies young.”
“Why does good have to die?”
“Because people will stop caring, even myself, even after I am no longer me, after I am dead.”
“Why can’t you give them a reason to care?”
She looked up at me, staring into my eyes. “Or perhaps… just a light in the darkness.” Simira slid higher, until her face was right up to mine, a passionate fire in her eyes. “Ay, if my death be professed, then I shall burn out in a glorious blaze, reducing all evil in my path to ash. I will become the hope that I cannot find in myself.”
“You’ll live. Your people will be there for you. I’ll be there for you.”
“Hah. I’ll live until I dare proclaim: we must all be better together; as foolish Larmeonip did.” She closed her eyes and stretched her neck front to back, then opened her eyes, somehow unable to meet mine.
I couldn’t help sensing hesitation in her, so I spoke. “Do you want me to stay until this plan is done?”
Her face wrinkled, fighting back tears again. “I do now. I want you to stay until then, even long after, until you hate me for wanting you. But those are only my selfish desires speaking, wishing for more, even though I’ve taken more from you than I could ever return in my short life.”
“Then I’ll stay until you no longer need me.”
“I can’t keep asking you to forgive me.”
“Then…” I struggled, the pain in my heart and the woman before me. “Then I’ll forgive you without you asking.”
“There’s your first lie.”
I fought back my own tears, painful memories prodding at the back of my head. “No, it’s not. But I… I realized hating you isn’t gonna bring her back. Because I know you’re good and you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Because I’m trying…”
“What did I do to deserve such kindness? I’ve been nothing but cruel, impulsive, and destructive to you. What happens when I fail again, and hurt you again?”
“Then I’ll forgive you again. Your wanting to be better is enough for me.”
Her face twisted, pained, like she was offended, voice shaking with rage and sorrow as her eyes broke again. “You’re just full of shit, like everyone else has been forever and ever in my life, aren’t you? Don’t you fucking lie to me. I can’t bear trusting another again, only to be betrayed again. I can’t. I can’t! Please, let me apologize and leave so I can’t be broken again. I can’t take it anymore.”
I pulled her weeping head into my chest and let my embrace reassure her. She cried another… however long. It was a while. Eventually, she raised her head.
She sighed through her nose, fighting to smile, and leaned her forehead against mine. “Mortality is a cruel, beautiful bell. It tings so purely once, when you’re fresh into the world, before you know what that sound means. Then it echoes so unimaginably distant, silent until it’s suddenly crashing before your eyes and you’ve not a moment to react. I think I’ve found the beauty of it, though, for in that silence we have the means to strum our own novice chords, sing loving melodies, and rage madly until the final thrum ceases. I won’t let your forgiveness be in vain, that I promise.”
I held her tighter, having completed the most difficult thing I’d done in both my lives.
She drifted off not long after, leaving me alone in the dark with her arms wrapped around me. Her curtains gently waved in the open window, but I never felt the night's chill, wrapped in her desperate heat. Part of me hated that I didn’t abhor it, that I was comforted by it. That I had forgiven her for her cruelty. That part of me fell into slumber. I followed like the autumn breeze, taking in the moment for as long as my comfort and exhaustion would let me.
* * * * *
Her stiff mattress thumped, jarring me awake. She was stood next to the bed, holding her robe shut, embarrassed and a little frantic. “I… didn’t mean to wake you. Um… I won’t need you until later, so feel free to… sleep longer there. I have things I should do, though.”
I sat up, unsticking my hair from dried drool on my cheek. She smirked at seeing me. “I should get up too. Apologize to Adam.”
Simira rested her eyes on the floor. “I should apologize as well, to you. I was drunk and acted unreasonably with you. That’s not to say I didn’t mean it, I’m… it’s…”
“And I was sober and I meant what I said.”
She brushed the hair that was usually in a braid behind her ear and awkwardly scrunched her arms inward. “Well, it’s a rest day for me today, so I’ll be working on personal items. If…” Simira clenched her teeth. “We’ll be putting the part of this plan into motion later tonight, once the debauchery begins, once the musicians arrive. The battles have been postponed as a result of all the beasts being dead, so I’ll summon you once that time comes.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then, Lady Simira.”
I started heading out, but she lightly grabbed my arm. “You don’t have to address me so formally when nobody else is around. I’ve…” She seemed like she was searching for an excuse or an explanation.
“Okay, Simira.” I turned around rigidly and left her room, her study, not sure what the fuck was going on anymore.
The manor was getting ready for the usual night of revelry, except there were some musicians that were going to make an appearance. Everyone was raving about how they were making waves throughout the city with their music, but being stuck in the manor, I hadn’t heard anything of it.
I didn't even bother trying to pay attention to what anyone was saying. It was still hard to stay functional with everything weighing on me, Simira’s words aside. My head was still all over the place, missing my friends. I couldn't find Adam at all. He probably wouldn't even want to see me. I didn't know what to think about him after what he said about Vetia. It was hard to think about the prior two days, so I did my best to stay working, then read for a while once I had some time where I was calm.
Twas after a wintertime bath at the hot springs beneath Mount Arieya, a lush mountain named for the gorgeous arieyas which grow upon it. A man once asked me, in a distant city, “What does an arieya look like?” And upon an instant, a fool I called him. Every thinking human knows what an arieya is, the meaning is in the name! However, at the base of said mountain, atop a dismal, janky wooden bin, sat the uncouth Larmeonip, still dressed in rags and worn furs despite winds which would freeze one’s lips still.
“Man! If you be man and not beast, prove it and I shall a golden coin bestow upon thee. Why art thou upon a bin, devoid of fire and shelter?! Have you no desire for comfort?”
“Many thanks be upon ye for such a chance, Unwise Djoteided! However I fear I may not rise to thine expectations, as my hind hast been frozen sitting.”
“Ay, shouldst thou articulate thine discomfort, thou needn’t rise, for rising be not but for those seeking just Hand.”
“A hand which I seek, just not of the just.”
“My query presently stands, Distracted Larmeonip.”
“A beast I am not, but a lame man I may be, for refusal to stand lies in sitting.”
“Unlistening Larmeonip, for what reason art thou without comfort, for thou couldst venture to the hot springs on such a frozen day! Is a man truly a man if he cannot find joy in his days?!”
“Warm Djoteided, what comforts are necessary to those who know no comfort?”
“Brittle Larmeonip, met I a man recently who lived amongst a dungeon of kets and yet claimed a cot in the almshouse for the winter night fell too frigid to breathe. For as bestial as he acted, even he craved a cot so dearly that they could not remove him from it come day. How canst thou prove thou’rt a man if ye cannot find joy in comfort?”
“Cynical Djo, thy answer lies in thy question, but pose I a question for thee?”
“Ask, Larmeonip!”
“How do I live?”
“I cannot say how you live, for I dare not see such squalor!”
“How do you know I am without warmth?”
“Thou’rt frozen to a bin, Larmeonip! That’s no way to live!”
“And as I stand now, that bin which I once sat upon, is my bed.”
“Your- How do you mean?! Such a bin is too tiny, too crammed for a man to comfortably rest in!”
“Ay, but rest in it I do.”
“How canst thou sleep in a coldbox? Are you not a man?!”
“There’s a lid and plenty of hide and blubber within.”
“Rudimentary Larmeonip, upon a storm of snow, what wilt thou do when thy bin is inescapably detained beneath snow?!”
“If I cannot free myself, then I’ll wait for my neighbor’s kind spade.”
“Where dost thou sit for leisure?! Where lies thy wealth of coins bestowed upon thee in passing, for thou’rt not spending?!”
“I sit in the forum and I sleep in this box.
I eat from the rubbish and I wander the docks.
The bold ask questions and pay in a toss.
The weary I question and pay for their loss.
I learn a story and ask a question.
They leave a burden and make confession.
I know every secret and not one isn’t sad.
But I’ve helped so many I cannot be mad.”
“How do you live, Larmeonip?”
“As Larmeonip does.”
In a flight of pity, I left an invitation to sup on the man’s bin, his home, and cursed the comfort which curdled my veil of wisdom.
Without event, the evening of partying came. A messenger child carried summons for me to Simira’s study as people were arriving. I knocked, she allowed me to enter, I saluted, and it seemed everything was business as usual.
“Tells, tonight is when we are going to initiate the final portion of this endeavor. It should only be several weeks to complete once we gather the evidence tonight. Then you will no longer serve here.”
“Yes, Simira.”
A subtle smile grew on her face, but was quickly pushed back by duty. “One of the musicians is going to venture into the caves with us. When we get down there, I will tell you what we are looking for. That parcel you received for me some weeks back was the map we needed to get where we’re going tonight. My father and everyone else should be sufficiently distracted with the special entertainment I dangled before them.”
“When should I be ready to go?”
“The musicians will finish playing, then the remaining musician will be doing some solo play to keep everyone distracted long enough for us all to slip away unnoticed. I believe they should be starting soon, they have been here for long enough as is. Spend your night normally, enjoy the music as you wish. But be ready to depart as soon as it ends. I will be at the main doors on the west side of the manor waiting. The musician has already been informed.”
“I will be there.”
I saluted and exited her study, following the halls to the ballroom.
What the hell? Why do I recognize that tune?
I shook my head and laughed it off.
That’s absurd. There was no way that song would be playing in this manor, in this country, in this world. It has to be my mind playing tricks on me.
I stepped further down the hall joining the crowd en route to the ballroom, the music becoming louder and far more clear.
It’s not a trick. I know that tune anywhere.
I approached the doors to the ballroom and stopped, jaw dropped at the sheer confusion I was feeling.
Who in this world is playing Take on Me? No shot it’s actually those two.