Harwal, book 3

Chapter 12

"I… I didn't specifically hear your story," I mutter. My throat is all dried up.

Harwal huffs and shakes his head as he straightens. "As you say."

What in the world just happened? I swallow a thousand times and sit up, pouring myself a glass of water from the side table. I stare at the wall where Harwal's shadow moves back to the corner. I chug more water and palm my cheek in confusion. I slide my hand down to my chest and feel the steady rhythm.

What I felt was not panic. I bat my eyes and frown. Ashamed. I was ashamed that I got caught eavesdropping. It's been so long since I've felt shame. How embarrassing. I'm like a kid getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

Dante stomps into the room and perks up as he sees me. "Morning," he says cheerfully. "Did you sleep well? Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine," I mutter and get up. Somehow, my clothing feels incredibly thin and revealing at this moment. "How are you? Do you feel better? What time is it?" I tug my flimsy clothes and bite my lip. What the hell is up with me? "Did you sleep well?"

"Calm down," Dante says and comes to wrap an arm around my shoulders. "I'm fine. I feel much better, and I slept well. It's five in the morning." He answers my barrage of questions and points at the clock on the side table.

I rub my hands together. "Is there anything for you to eat? We should ask for breakfast."

"I'll go ask," he says and leans to kiss my cheek. "Take a shower and freshen up."

I nod, staring blankly at the floor. I feel so strange. I got too much information and then that odd shameful feeling. I shake my head and straighten up.

"I'll take that offer, get some cheese buns if they have any," I mumble and waddle towards the bathroom with Dante on my side.

"I'll be back soon," he says, kissing my cheek once more before leaving.

I stare at the bathroom door and tug my fingers for a moment. "Wait, did you want something?" I ask, turning towards Harwal, but he's sleeping. His head is lulled to the side, and his chest rises slowly.

I suppose his 'softer' look was because he was tired. Has he been awake the whole night? He must've looked after Dante.

I look down and stare at my hand, clutching my chest. I wipe my chest and shake off the gesture. I'm appreciative. I need to thank him later.

I lock the door behind me, check the availability of a towel, and go to take a shower. I stand in the lukewarm water and close my eyes.

I honestly am a bit shaken by the whole story of the Zohra. It's not what I expected, and I'm not sure if I should feel pity or fear. Harwal said it was long, long ago, longer than I can even fathom. That's when they were oppressed. Then they rose against… gods of sorts and killed them.

How could I not fear them? Sure they got their fucked up problem with the maturing ceremony thing, but the god things helped them with it, but they still killed them.

But… Can I blame someone for something their ancestors did?

I blow out a breath, spraying the wall with droplets. I rub my eyes to clear the mascara and grunt.

What bothers me most about his story is the part about him being something of a pure Zohra or something. He said that nobody is as big as he is because of it. That brings me back to the conversation I had with grandma.

I stare emptily at the white tiled wall, which is not really white anymore, as it's filled with dirt and soot of previous customers.

Have I seriously misremembered that fucking rapist? Did my mind make a concoction from nightmares? Is it really possible for my mind to be so fucked? How can I not remember it right?