II - Sigh of Smoke

Chapter 45 - Beasts We Have Been

-Atlanta-

The night was far too cold for her liking. The window to her left was sitting open to allow the Southern sea to breathe, giving her a shiver down her back that made her cringe. Her thoughts had been in turmoil, and she could not find it in herself to rest. She was having a hard time working through the muddled confusion in her head.

Atlanta was, in a simple word, stricken.

She had been wrong in the end. King Cragon had truly wanted her dead, even though she persisted in believing otherwise, going as far as to argue with those who realized the truth before herself. There was no need to look up, for she knew that in the cot across from her slept the one who had tried to tell her the truth to begin with.

Aleksandra had tried to be sincere. Yet Atlanta even had it in herself to strike her. Her hand seemed to sting with the memory of it.

Pang!

Atlanta winced at the ache in her chest, knuckles whitening as her grip on her knees tensed. The truth echoed in her mind like the cries of a child, Atlanta, you were supposed to die. That was what he had wanted, and you disobeyed. Which is worse, the fact that you didn't listen proper, or that he was trying to get rid of you the whole time you've sat in ignorance?

Another shiver, and she pulled the sheets of the bed around her, not staring at the fine embroidery that spoke of an honourable tale of the Queen of Ascent, the woman who was portrayed in stone on the fountain of the garden by the Xarian statue. It had been hard for her to believe that Cragon had actually wanted her gone, and yet she now had to face the truth.

Face a truth that she had never wanted. Face a truth she had never believed to be possible.

Atlanta shut her eyes tightly, feeling the sick, painful throb once again. All she wanted to know, was why. Had she done something wrong in the time she had been under his care? Had she outlived her promising age, and was she already disposable?

What exactly changed?

"-Atlanta?"

She froze, expression falling to seriousness as she looked up to find Aleksandra staring at her, groggily blinking away her sleep. Glowing green eyes peered at her with dawning understanding. Atlanta felt herself watching in bewilderment as Aleksandra crawled off her bed and planted herself in front of her, awkwardly fidgeting as she crossed her legs beneath her to mirror Atlanta's posture.

"Are you thinking about him?"

Atlanta blinked.

They had been roomed together, by the servant who approached them after King Cragon had left. If anything, it felt like the Gods were punishing her for being a stubborn fool, believing herself to be above this witch before her because of her own needless arrogance. Now they had to rest in the same room until the dreaded day of the duel, and it was far too awkward to be a comfortable setting, considering all the words that had ever passed between them. Perhaps they weren't the same, but they were not so different in the end.

"Atlanta?" Aleksandra tried again, but the older girl merely shook her head.

"I am not..." She started, but for some reason she could not speak. She had been wrong, the entire time. Peter Vallen had lied to her, and had made her believe that King Cragon had truly wanted Aleksandra to be in Zarkarath for him to tell her more about the past that she wanted clear. Now Aleksandra knew what she had searched for, and Atlanta had survived when she had not been intended to.

The witch merely nodded, as if understanding, and just said, "then just talk about something else then."

Did Atlanta even want to talk about anything at all? Did she want to lay herself bare before this girl who was mayhaps three years younger than she? What comfort could she offer? To talk about something irrelevant seemed tasteless, and she had it not in herself to be dull. They could not possibly speak about the weather, for in the South it rarely ever changed. They could not talk about their interests, for it was clear they could not carry a conversation long enough for both of them to feel intrigued.