The Truth-Teller Of Estrella

Chapter 15. A Dead Lover

Aleta was crouched on the edge of the small bed, positioned in the corner of the room upstairs — only slightly larger than Karisa's below. She unlaced her boots, allowing a satisfied huff to escape her mouth as she slid them off. She wrapped her fingers around her ankle, applying pressure to the spot that ached and pulsed. She had been forcing the pain out her head since they returned — an uphill battle. Her body throbbed and pulsed at her touch. Aleta had made her decision when she walked back through the threshold. She had made her decision by the time her fingers brushed against the wooden door, left ajar from the chaos. By the time she saw the siblings near the hearth of the fire, she knew what she wanted. She was staying. And with Karisa below, the chatter between her and her brother was apparent below the floorboards — there was no reason to return to Estrella, no one to go back to. Aleta thought about her father, about the last time she saw him in the barn outside their home. She thought about the way his eyes stretched with surprise and the hint of fear. She wondered what he would think of this all.

Aleta straightened herself to stand and walked over to her bag, slung across the chair near the door. She reached for it — but a heavy knock interrupted.

"Come in." She answered as she settled back on to the bed, her attempt to save the sight of her wobble from whomever was at her door.

The wooden door swung open. Samir stood in the doorway.

"I am not here to pry about how things went with the priestess-"

"Karisa." Corrected Aleta.

"Karisa." He repeated. "She told me, and her words not mine, that you looked terrible. She said we weren't taking care of you."

Aleta's brows furrowed at his words.

"So there's a bath, down the hall. All set up, just uh,"

Her brows raised at his hesitation, "Yes?"

"I'd get in before it gets too cold." He finished as he swung the towel at her. "It might also help that ankle of yours." She didn't allow him to see the excitement or relief in her face.

When the door closed behind him, Aleta rushed to undress. It had been days since she had taken a bath — the dirt and grime of the journey had stuck itself to her skin and in between each crease and crevice of her body. She ran her fingers through her hair, undoing the half hazard and untamed braid that had turned into an array of knots at her head. She let it fall, free and wild, down to her waist.

Aleta padded down the hallway wrapped in the towel Samir had tossed at her. As she approached she realized he had not been clear — there were two doors at the end of the hall, side by side. She clenched the golden candlestick in her hand as she pressed her ear to the first door. Aleta listened in an attempt to decipher whether the room was empty. Silence. When she didn't hear any movement she pushed it open, thrilled for the soothing water awaiting.

"Can I help you?"

Aleta froze. Wrong door. Wrong door. Wrong door.

Samir's tone didn't reflect annoyance. Instead, there was a playful ring to his voice as he looked up at her from the book in his hands. His eyes glued to hers. As if expecting her to show discomfort, to reach out and cover herself, his gaze redirected, fixating on the ceiling.

"The other door, sorceress." He said with a smile, his gaze still averted.

Aleta allowed her eyes to linger on his chest, toned and defined, as she turned away. She edged out slowly and silently. He did not take the opportunity, despite his playful spirit, to look at her.

The small tub seemed extravagant and luxurious after the days she had spent traveling. Aleta sunk herself under the still warm water of the bathtub. It gave her life, refreshing her worn and tired skin, while awakening her senses. Aleta held her breath, and as if in self-blessing, she allowed herself to lay at the bottom until bubbles escaped her lips. On one attempt she inhaled and plunged her body down. Her wet fingers gripped and slipped at the edges of the tub as she forced herself below. She allowed herself to think about what she had seen, felt, and heard — what she had learned from Samir on the beach shore. It was his deepest truth, he had told her, one that he needed to trade for their entry into the library. She thought about the concept, the idea of someone's deepest truth. What was hers?