The party has snapped me out of my low mood. I have purpose again. I name my puppy Kaura. I groom and feed her and she follows me everywhere, stumbling over her puppy feet and falling asleep in the oddest places when she is exhausted.
I realise, as I look into the white nothingness from a hall window, I have been here for over three months. It will not be long until we must move up to the first again, or the first sector, I correct myself. So much has changed. Kedrick’s death and what could have been still weighs down on me some days, but I count myself lucky to have had the experience of this world when few from Osolis ever would. The hawk has still not come again and I wonder if I’ve missed it somehow. The attitude of the Bruma has not turned nasty though, as I imagine it would if war had been declared. And the number of guards around the castle has remained constant. I have been slowly working up my resolve to ask the King if he has heard from my mother.
When I think of Osolis, the only source of sadness I have is in missing my brothers, Aquin and some other smaller things like the springs or how I used to run my hands through the long grass. I am standing in an alcove by a window where a thin patch of light is streaming through, my eyes are closed remembering this sensation.
“What are you doing?” a small voice asks.
I realise my hands are actually waving by my sides in my pretend grass. I giggle and turn to look at the voice and discover Cameron, the young boy from the party looking at me with open wariness.
“I was remembering how it was to run my fingers through long grass. I did not know I was moving my hands, too,” I say.
“Oh, that’s all. I thought you might’ve gone nuts like my Aunt Beatrice,” he says. Laughter chokes in my throat. I have always loved children’s tendency to blurt out their every thought.
“I heard someone say you are an alien from hell the other day,” he confides.
I burst out laughing. “Do you think I’m an alien?” I ask, ignoring the other part of his comment.
“I can’t see your face, so how would I know for sure?” he says.
“I suppose you wouldn’t,” I agree.
“You’re from the fire world,” he states, his dark blue eyes wide. My heart pangs. He is about the twins’ age.
“The fire world,” I confirm with a nod, my voice solemn.
“Do they all cover their faces there? Is it to protect you from the flames?”
“No, I’m the only one I know of to cover my face, but it was clever of you to think of that reason,” I say.
“Why do you wear it then?” He climbs up on the seat next to me, staring at my hand, comparing it to his own.
“I don’t know why, my mother has always made me wear it, from the time I was a baby,” I say. It is just like being in the orphanage.
“Sometimes my mum makes me do things, too,” he muses.
I smile a little. A throat clears and we both jump half a metre up off the window seat.
“Cameron, why are you out of the nursery?”
Cameron scrabbles down off the seat, his expression filled with guilt. I recognise the voice and turn with a bit of dread to face King Jovan, cursing my luck at him finding us. I wonder how much he overheard.
“This is the last time I want to see you out of the nursery if you have not been given permission,” he says in a stern voice, but his eyes stay on me. It’s a mistake. Children can always sense when you are not whole-hearted in your reprimands.
Cameron nods and starts off in the direction the nursery must be located. I know from Jacqueline that the assembly wives often leave their children in the castle while they run their errands and socialise. Cameron turns back when he is a few metres down the hall.
“You can call me Cam if you like,” he says. His voice is overly formal and I’m confused about why before remembering he was at the party yesterday and witnessed me giving permission to the delegates to call me Olina.
I nod to him deeply. “Thank you, Cam. My friends call me Olina. You may call me by this name,” I say.
He bows. I struggle not to giggle.
“I don’t think you’re an alien from hell, either.” A small giggle escapes me as he patters off down the hallway.
“You are good with children,” the King notes.
“Yes,” I reply, losing my smile as I turn to look out of the window again. I had not been comfortable with the King from the start, and my discomfort had only grown since his intrusion into my room. I was still furious at him. My shoulders tense as he moves up behind me.
“You worked at an orphanage on Osolis,” he says. I shift to the side slightly, keeping him in sight, my body prepared for any sudden movements.
I look at him surprised, but do not answer.
“I interrogated the delegation in depth,” he says, answering my unspoken question.
I nod to show I have heard his comment and then return my gaze outside, ignoring him. He hovers for a few moments. An awkward tension fills the air.
“I have business I must attend to,” he says, turning to make his way back down the hall.
“Have you heard from the Tatum?” I blurt out.
He pauses and turns back to me. He knows what I want to know. What else would I be asking about?
“We are currently in negotiations with Osolis,” he says. “We received another message a couple of weeks ago.”
“I did not see its arrival.”
“You wouldn’t have. The hawks cannot fly this far into the third sector,” he explains.
“She is angry, I gather.”
“Yes.”
If she was angry, it was either artifice over my kidnapping or for another reason entirely. Maybe at something the King had said. “Will there be war?” I ask, softly.
He looks down at me. I know he is weighing how much he should tell me. “Not if I can help it.” His tone raises the hairs on my neck.
I look out the window again to collect myself. He is holding back information. If I were in his position, I would do the same. After all, if I was returned, I could use what he has said against his people.
“Why have you not asked to be released?” he asks.
I glance over my shoulder, he is watching me. Telling him I’m going to kill one of his delegates might not be well received. I go on the offensive.
“Would you have said yes?” I ask.
“No.”
“Well then.” I see a large grin over his face. For some reason it makes me want to smile, too. “You said you had business to attend to.” I remind him.
His grin fades at my dismissal, he arches an eyebrow. “Yes, I do. I will leave you to your grass petting.” I glare at his back as he walks away. He displays a grace which is rare in people of his height. I would have expected heavy, booming steps from him, but his is light, not like Kedrick’s. Not for the first time I daydream about fighting him. With my small stature I had the advantage of speed normally, but I knew from experience he was fast. I would have to rely on stamina and perhaps come at him from above and behind where his arms were less likely to wrap around and crush me.
For the rest of the day it is just me. It must be very boring being my guards. This pair are not as professional as the last. I often caught them whispering, and once I had tripped on a step and one had sniggered. I am still glad I have them for protection.
Malir’s wife, Sadra, had been showing me how to move my wrist to get rid of the lingering stiffness. I could now close my fist completely, however the strength in my arm had completely wasted. Another few weeks, though, and I would be able to protect myself.
Adnan is the only one of the delegates at the table this evening. We eat quietly and Adnan fills up the time with talk of his work. It’s harder to ignore the glaring when there are not many of my friends here, though I feel the attitude towards me has softened a little. Perhaps the assembly has grown accustomed to my presence.
It’s the looks from some of the males which make me most uncomfortable. They seem more inclined to look at my chest than anywhere else. I wonder if they do it on purpose, to make me uncomfortable - it is no secret Solati are a conservative race. I resist the urge to cover my chest as Gabel’s slimy eyes run over me. A couple of months ago he had wanted to kill me, now he obviously thought otherwise. Not for the first time I wish Fiona had made my clothing with a higher neck line.
I nod vacantly at Adnan’s description of his latest invention. I had kept up initially, but it had become too complicated.
“Because, you see, when the metal is heated,” he says. I nod again, searching the table closest to the throne table. This is a table who seem determined to hate me. It is mainly filled with women. There is one very beautiful blonde-haired woman who sits there. Her glare is particularly nasty. Maybe she had a family member who was killed in the war or just hated me because I’m Solati.
I locate Blaine’s wife, Macy. Fiona is right, she flinches every time someone talks to her. I wonder if she is timid or if something has happened to her. My eyes move behind her. I’m surprised to see Ashawn sitting to the left of his brother. He has been absent many weeks now, since the afternoon he stormed out of the meeting room. I see his hatred of me has not dimmed in the slightest during this time.
“And then we put in an insulation layer,” Adnan continues.
“I see,” I mumble. I’m ashamed to say I feel relief when Fiona and Jacqueline join us at the end of our meal. I look between the two women as they sit either side of me. I don’t feel as though I could confide in these two women yet, but I am fond of them. I hope one day, if matters between our races improve, I could share my thoughts with them. They are my first female friends, apart from the matron at the orphanage who had been three times my age.
“You must stay after dinner tonight, Olina,” Jacqueline says. “You always disappear to your room.”
I dip my head. “I apologise Jacqueline, I didn’t realise people were supposed to stay here afterwards.”
Fiona giggles. “She was only joking. You should stay though and show us some of the games you spoke of.”
I stay after dinner as they have requested, showing Fiona and Jacqueline a popular word game Olandon and I are fond of. Several of the other women in the hall become curious and join us after a time. Many of them hold a goblet of the potent drink I had at my birthday party.
I shake my head when the drink is offered to me. I have noticed when people consume it they loosen their tongues and their wits numb. I remember the effect it had on me from one small sip. Jacqueline soon changes the rules of the game to incorporate a penalty for losing. The Bruma around me start to drink every time they make a mistake in the game. As with my birthday party, the noise gets louder and people begin to act strangely. But unlike that happy occasion, I do not feel comfortable in the slightest now, with people I don’t know.
I evade another man who is brushing too close to my body, shuddering. I push away a goblet someone tries to push into my hands. Another body slides up and down my own. My shoulders are so tense I feel they are up around my ears. My eyes are getting wider and wider as men and women wrap around each other. Shouting and loud singing ring from one wall to the next. Fights break out amongst the males over trivial matters, or females.
I back away from the game, retreating in the direction of the archway, and trying not to be obvious about it. I don’t want to offend my new friends or get laughed at for being scared. Eventually, I thud onto the stone wall behind me, my eyes are fixed on the carnage in front of me. The archway is to my right. I turn towards it, but find myself staring at a large arm. A man’s other hand reaches to the wall on my other side, caging me in. I tilt my head up to meet an ice blue gaze, not one I recognise. At least it is not Gabel. The Bruma’s breath is sweet and potent like the King’s had been.
“Where do you think you’re going little Solati?” He dips his head down and nuzzles the side of my face.
I quickly duck down and escape under his arm, walking quickly to the archway, nearly running. I’m nearly there when a large hand yanks at my left wrist. I cry out at the sharp pain.
Then the pressure is gone.
I bend in half over my wrist, cradling it to my body. My eyes flick upwards to see Rhone deliver a blow to the man’s jaw. The man crumples to the ground in a heap. There is a roar of approval from the wild crowd who then return to their partners and games as though nothing ever happened.
“Is your wrist alright?” Rhone asks as he approaches. I flex my fingers.
“I think its okay. It is not like the pain I had when it was broken. The movement was just too sudden,” I say.
Rhone leads me over to a large bowl. He scoops ice out into a cloth napkin and applies it to my wrist.
“You’ve done this a few times,” I say.
He nods. “For the dogs.”
“Of course.” I snort and then gasp in disbelief. “I just snorted!” I tilt my head up to glare at Rhone. “That’s your fault.”
Rhone snorts in response. I giggle and we both laugh.
It is the first time I have seen Rhone laugh. He looks much younger when he does. I had placed Rhone in his late twenties, but when he laughs, I wonder if he may not be a few years younger. He walks me to my room at my request. I don’t want another run in with the male. Apparently unions between Bruma and Solati are not thought disgusting by everyone.
Did that happen after dinner every night? I was not sure I was brave enough to stay tomorrow night and find out. I hoped the man who grabbed me awoke with a headache from Rhone’s fist.
I burrow into the furs on my bed with a sigh. Tomorrow I would follow Macy back to her quarters and figure out the best way to search her rooms.