Every Glistening Night

Chapter Seven

A hundred eyes bear into my back, lurking from the treetops to the bushes. I vibrate with a nervous energy magnified by a sleep deficit. It's been three nights. And many more are to come.

The trees' canopy opens, allowing the sun to blind my bleary eyes at full strength. I raise a hand to block it, though it still makes me squint. I drag my feet to my mother's cave, hoping she won't be too displeased that I didn't bring my raeriel. It was too much to try to figure out a way to sneak it from my trunk. Lessons would be ineffective anyway, since I'm so tired.

I duck inside the rocky room. My mother sits pressed against the wall, as always.

"You don't have to be so obvious about it, Celisae. I know quite well that I haven't bathed in a while."

"What?" I say, handing her the fruit I scavenged the other day along with some meat from today's second meal.

"Your nose appears to have smelled the greatest abomination in the forest," Mother states. I realize that my face is scrunched from fatigue and has probably worn the same, pained expression all day. I try to relax it, though I'm unsure of how successful my efforts are.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"I don't see why you're returning so soon," Mother continues between the berries she pops in her mouth. "It takes three days to die of thirst, not one."

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice edging on a growl. Mother freezes in place, a blank expression on her face. I sigh, slumping against the stone wall. "I really am sorry, Mother. I—I just couldn't come. It was—" I was about to say that it was too dangerous, but it occurs to me that maybe Mother shouldn't know about the hooded woman. I don't want her to be as racked with worry as I am.

"You didn't even bring your raeriel," Mother says after a moment.

"I forgot." The excuse tumbles off my lips with practiced ease. At this point, it might actually be true.

"Sure," Mother scoffs. "Whatever you say, daughter."

"I'll refill the water buckets," I say, though weakness in my arms protests against my offer. They ache from last night. Even the slightest tick sends pain shuddering through my muscles. "Actually, Mother, I had to do a lot of physical labor yesterday. I didn't want the... soreness in my arms to interfere with my playing. I'll bring it next time."

Mother appraises me with her eyes. "Whatever you say, Celisae."

I take a breath and forge onward. "I hoped we could go over something else today instead."

Mother's unkempt eyebrows twitch, but that's the only sign of surprise I get. "And that is?"

I choose each word carefully. "I was wondering if there's a way to keep sunlight from burning me."

Mother doesn't reply. After the first minute ticks by, I get the distinct impression that I've rendered her speechless.

"Why the sudden interest?" Mother asks at last.

"Well, it's just that my... uh... fingers. They've been awfully sensitive lately. You know from the dyes and the playing..."

"Please, Celisae," Mother cuts in. "You don't honestly think that I'd believe you've been practicing the raeriel to the point that your fingers hurt." My gaze flickers to the ground. When it returns to my mother, her eyes have narrowed. "Unless there's another instrument you'd rather play. Perhaps the ciwien pipe or the obrie, or the laivo."

My eyes fall away from her again. Mother clucks her tongue.

"It is the laivo, isn't it? You prefer plucking those silly strings compared to playing the rich raeriel. Really, Celisae, you get so much more color, depth, and resonance out of the raeriel."