The Starry Sky - A Darkling/General Kirigan Prequel

10

Anna's bed sheets were soaked in sweat. It could've been because of the fire that was still roaring in the corner of her room, or because she was wrapped in a heavy cotton dress, multiple linens and extra furs. But it was neither of those things. Once again she was dreaming; dreaming about Muireann and the wolves. Heavily set Fjerdan men screaming at her in a language she didn't understand. Her mother pushing her into the arms of somebody she didn't know. All of them coalescing into a montage of wicked and cruel scenes, prompting her body to spasm in response.

Deep, rattling sobs tore free from her lips, which were damp from perspiration. Her muscles were aching, coming back to life after being contracted for extended periods of time, and her hair had come free from the braid it was in, spilling around her shuddering frame like ocean waters intent to destroy. It was a surprise that the guards hadn't come running. Every now and then they did, but on the odd nights she'd sit alone in her boiling room and shake from the cold. Perhaps on certain nights they couldn't hear her, or perhaps on certain nights the stationed Oprichniki couldn't be bothered to check on her. Regardless, it was always interesting to see how the event would play out.

Most nights it would be Ade who'd come to her - he seemed to be on duty the most. He'd sit with her, and tell her stories of his parents, or the Prince, who became more loathsome with each tale. He never looked at her as if she were crazy, or an annoyance, in fact, he seemed to enjoy the chance to spend the time with her and tell her stories. On some nights they'd pull the curtains around the bed and see who could last the longest before the heat in the space became unbearable. Ade always won, but Anna wanted to test herself.

However, there was no sign of Ade, so Anna had to try and calm herself down. On most nights she'd drink a pint of water, left for her in a pitcher on her dresser, and take deep breaths until her heart rate slowed. But it was progressively getting more difficult to wind down after the nightmares. She didn't know why they were getting worse, and no amount of prayers to her saints could solve the problem. Her only guess was that it was because her birthday was approaching, but she couldn't decipher why that would be causing these brief flashes of the past to surge up.

After laborious minutes of drinking and breathing in and out, she realised it wasn't working. Tears began streaking down her face, mixing with the sweat and making her feel more unclean than she already felt. The cotton dress was weighing her down and she had half a mind to take it off, but her arms were too sore. Carefully, she found a washcloth and dabbed it in the lukewarm water, dabbing it precariously onto her face, cleaning herself of the nightmare. Her eyes caught on the fire, staring into it like it would give her some answers or give her solace, and yet still none came. The heat on her face made her feel worse, and it burned into her eyes, pricking more tears. Even the slight crackling felt like a mockery, echoing her deep breaths and rasping gasps of frustration.

She felt as if she wasn't in her body. Her feet carried her around, taking her from her bed to the dresser to the fire back to the bed and then to the door. The door. She could just step outside and ask them to get Ade. But what if Ade was asleep? She couldn't have him woken up because she'd had a bad dream, especially as he seemed to sleep so little. And she wasn't even sure where he slept, in the three weeks she'd known him he'd sat with her for hours at night, walked with her as she met all the Grisha, talked to her during meals, surveyed the progress on the Little Palace renovation with her, and yet she didn't even know where he slept.

So that was that, she thought, pressing her head against the cool ebony wood of the door and groaning. The seconds crept up on her skin, gliding like ants across her arms and up the column of her neck, seeping into the pores on her face. It was so bad. It felt so bad. Like eternity was sat on her bed, taunting her and increasing the temperature of the room. Memory was so heavy, a pile of bricks on your back. The worst part was that she couldn't outrun it, or shake it off. It clings and sticks and preys and watches. Suffocating you when you are at your weakest, empowering you when you're at your best. But Anna was never at her best, she suspected it had died with her cousin, despite every smile she'd put on in public, her guilt was an endless well and her memory was an esoteric curse. It made her feel like collapsing to the floor and letting the world consume her. Maybe it already had.