The Truth-Teller Of Estrella

Chapter 31. A Journal of Scribbles and Tears

"Do you think she's happy?" Samir's voice broke Aleta's concentration. She hissed in response.

Aleta had been sitting on the edge of her seat, the moonlight and fireside illuminating each page of her grandmother's book — seemingly written in tongues. She couldn't understand it. There were words and directions different to the language used to write down her vow. It seemed while Karisa's grandmother was driven to get words on a page as quickly and clearly as she could — her grandmother felt the need to take her time, to hide meanings and letters between scribbles of the stars and plants. It was vexing.

"Who?" She barked over, her eyes barely lifting from the pages.

"Karisa."

To hear her friend's name on his lips, so clear and familiar — like she now shared Risy not only with her fox-spirit lover but with this man, one she had only begun to know, was like a blow to her chest.

"Why do you care?" She turned, a fire raging behind her darkened pools.

Samir only shook his head, his teeth pulling at his lips as if holding himself back. And he was — he didn't mean to agitate her with the question, he just thought she would benefit from talking, from actually sharing what was plaguing her mind instead of stuffing it deep within herself and plastering on yet another unconvincing look of apathy. While Aleta was many things, she was not apathetic — it was clear by the force behind her eyes and the way she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. She was trying to be calculated, always trying. Samir had seen it the first the night fought the others on his ship. She was trying to control her magic... until she lost it. It was Aleta's feelings towards her friend that caused her to unleash herself, to take down a man without so much as even lifting a finger. And here, watching her face crinkle as she studied absent minded scribbles on a page made him think... she was entirely too much in her head.

"I know Orius isn't here — but that doesn't mean you should stop your training."

Her body went still. He was half expecting her to get up, to lift those balled fists into the air, to pull for her dagger and press it against him as she had done once before. But she didn't. Samir watched as she slumped into her seat further, her face smashed against the pages of her grandmother's words, and her hair falling like a cascade of water across the table. Her face was hidden, her arms a fortress locking her features tight against his view. He had been unpacking a bundle of clothing, but left the tangled mess when he noticed her change in demeanor. He didn't think the words would upset her — he hadn't planned for them too.. Why would they, anyway?

Nervous by her energy shift he straddled the space between her and the bed. He could see by the rise and fall of her chest she was upset. But could she be... crying?

"What's wrong?" He finally muttered.

Silence.

"I-I- I'm sorry." Samir continued. "I just meant you should still practice, I didn't mean for you to feel like I thought you weren't good enough or..." he paused, lifting and running a hand through his hair. "Look, even I practice... in every spare moment that I have."

"FOR WHAT!" She screamed, her voice like a weapon in itself. "Everyone is telling me what to do... to read the book, to find a way to destroy the ring, to practice with my sword more. There's only so much I can do and it looks like I can't even read my own grandmother's handwriting for fucks sake." She paused. "And Risy has Ren, and you have Orius, and now it appears that Karisa is your friend now too... like I can't have anyone just to myself."

"Just because Karisa has Ren doesn't mean she's any less of your friend." Interjected Samir. "And Orius isn't even here but I bet if you asked him, he'd gladly choose you over me." He added with a faint smile.

Aleta had lifted her head. She braced by her hands with her elbows hard against the table top. And although she still wasn't looking at him, Samir could see that her face had lightened a twinge at his last remark.

Why did he have to make her feel like smiling during her anger? Why couldn't he just leave her to feel miserable and alone and filled with angst? She fought against the instinct to lighten her face, but he was so damn stupid.

"Listen," Samir muttered. "Please, please, please, don't get mad at me. I can't handle a dagger to my throat right now..."

With that build up, she couldn't make any promises. He was bound to say something that would upset her further.

"I just think... you might be a little too in your head."

Aleta sneered. Of course he would think she was overreacting.

"Now, I don't think you are overreacting, you have surely a fuck-ton on your plate." He paused, she had finally turned to look at him.

"I just think... maybe, you might try relying on your instincts a bit more?"

"Is that what you do?" She asked, a mocking tone beneath her words.

"It's what brought me here. Hasn't failed me yet." He answered. But when she didn't respond he continued, "Are you tired?"

Aleta scoffed, "Not in the slightest." She looked over at the bed. With everything going on she had completely forgotten she was stuck in this room, forced to share a bed with him. But Samir could see the dark circles around her eyes, and the rest she needed if she were to keep up at the pace she was going at.

He raised a brow as he opened a drawer of the armoire. "Maybe you'd be more inclined to get some rest if you got out of your little boy's clothes and into something more comfortable."

She had forgotten she was still wearing the borrowed clothing from the servants' son.

Aleta smiled, "I like my little boy's clothes."

He looked at her, a giant grin plastered across his face as he shook his head with amusement.

"I'm sure you do. And to be completely honest, I think it suits you. But I know firsthand, sleeping in leather is not comfortable." He tossed the garment in his hand onto the table. "So here. The bed is yours if you want, I can sleep on the chair. And to spare myself from any more protests, I'll go change in the tub room." He smiled. "I suggest you do the same while I'm in there."

Aleta glided her thumb against the white cotton. It was thin and partially transparent against the moon-light.

"I can't wear this." She replied. She thought about the night on the ship, the moment she felt she had shared with Samir as they danced. She had pushed it back, along with the memory of how she felt, when she thought it was his body against hers... when she thought it was him the night of the incubus attack.

"I'm not telling you what to do, sorceress." He called back, already entering the adjoining room. "Just a suggestion, a mere thought..."