Sword of Hearts

Chapter 6

 When I woke up, Feyna was bustling around the room quietly, putting new things into the cabinet. I could see a fresh pile of clothes on the table and the room was bright with sunshine.

I squinted as I sat up.

She spun around and smiled broadly, surprised. “Good morning!” she chirped. She shut the cabinet at the far right and went to the one with the pain killers. She removed two pills and fixed a glass of water. “Here you go.”

My head was unbelievably groggy. I couldn’t connect the pieces of anything together to make any sense at all. I took the glass and pills and downed them quickly. I blinked and cleared my throat. That was slightly better. This was confusing--I was tired when I got little sleep, but I was also tired when I got plenty of sleep? This didn’t make any sense at all.

“How are you feeling?” Feyna asked, bringing the clothes over to me.

“Uhh . . .” I started. To start, the sun hurt my eyes. “Good.”

“Tired?” she asked, with a knowing grin.

“Yeeaahh,” I said, but it was slow.

She chuckled and handed me the pile of clothes. I could see a dark blue shirt and jeans. “These are for you.”

I looked down at my ratty, grungy clothes. I felt . . . dirty. My skin felt oily and my hair . . . . don’t get me started on that massacre. Some idiot had taken it down again. Who knew what would fall out? Leaves, baby squirrels, cupcake icing, the list was endless.

“Uhh,” I said again, my face pinking. “Is there a . . . could I . . . is there a rag I could use to wash my face off?”

Feyna stared at me in thought, and then took the clothes from my hands. “We have a shower, Cicly. Multiple actually. You just need to ask.”

“You never ask for help, Cicly! How are we supposed to know when you need help?” Chet’s words hammered in my brain and I winced.

People are judged by what they look like, my dad said. It’s just the way the world is. It is heartless and judgmental. People don’t look beyond the clothes or the dirty skin or the polished shoes. They want to see what they want. You look poor, you suddenly are poor. You look like you own a country, suddenly you do. Look like a lady, Cicly, and you are one.

Well, that train crashed a long time ago, I thought scornfully. I looked up at Feyna, holding my breath.

“Well, come on then,” she said and she helped me get up. I was glad no one had changed me into that god-awful tunic. She carried the clothes and we descended down the spiral staircase. Chet’s relatives were back in there and they greeted us. Aunt Lydia seemed very happy to see me. I couldn’t fathom why.

I followed Feyna wordlessly as she led me down the corridor nearing the bedrooms. She led me two doorways past Taylin’s, and led me in. The floor was pure white tiling, and the walls were a soft blue. There was a window in a little cutout of the wall, so light would shine in without anyone from the outside looking in. Not that anyone could--we were two stories up.

“Here’s the shower,” she said. “I’d offer you the bath, but it needs to be cleaned.”

“That’s alright,” I said, gazing at the sparkly washroom. It was incredible. It glowed with natural light and everything was pristine clean.

“Your towels are right here,” she said, showing me a rack of white towels. She set the pile of clothes on top. This was unreal.

“Thanks,” I said, flummoxed. A shower. A shower. Heated water. I hadn’t had one in so long.