damsel in distress

Chapter 3

This time, it’s still four. But I am in my parlour, looking over the faraway Verha sea.

“Tara, you look happy.” I hear my brother’s voice behind me. My tongue quivers inside my mouth, throat hesitant to speak out something coherent. I whip my neck around, gawking at him wide eyed, taking in his military uniform and leather belts strapped across his arm. Sweat drips down his brow. “Is it a good day?”

Beside me, the curtain flutters, a sweet spring wind caressing the ends of my hair. The smell of ginger tea wafts through the wisps of steams, and a decorated platter of assorted biscuits and cakes lay on the table before me.

“How did you get here!” I rise up from my seat and an ache shoots up from the base of my spine to my neck, a very painful reminder of the whale bone corset stuffing my chest. My dress had changed from the muddy frock to a powder blue silk gown, dark blue ribbons at my waist and matching shoes. I look at the small mirror on the teapoy. Stone jewellery traded away for silver and my hair wound in an elaborate braid.

Who changed my clothes?

Tayash settles down on the chair by the window, an amused look in his eyes. “I walked upstairs.”

Adam leans by the door threshold, his arms crossed across his chest and one leg stretched out. He is looking in my direction, but at some point lower than my eyes.

"No," I tear my gaze away from Adam, "no that is not what I mean. But how did we," I point between the three of us frantically, "Get here, as in inside the castle. From the Cathedral to here."

Tayash rubs his temple with his index finger, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "You want to visit the Cathedral?"

"We were in the Cathedral, you—" dolt! “Wait, what day is it?”

“It’s Thursday, he says. My mind struggles to grasp the weight of his words. Four days have passed since a moment ago.  Four days. It was supposed to be four hours. “Tara," his grin grows wider, "you're being ridiculously funny today. What is the occasion?

My brother. Grinning. My jaw drops down. That man never grins. He has never even smiled once since Frederick passed away. After his best friend’s death, he shut himself off in a shell and erected impenetrable walls around his heart. It is near impossible to elicit a reaction from him outside of the battle field or the training ground.

“Nothing,” I sink down in the chair, “absolutely nothing. You tell me, brother, how did you think of me?” Judging from his face, he doesn’t seem to experience anything out of the ordinary. Then. . . is it just me?

“Oh well.” My brother gestures towards Adam. “He said you wanted more books. You should have told me, Tara. I will send out some servants this evening. And please, for God’s sake stop roaming in the library past midnight. Come talk to me if you’re bored. I’d like to listen to all the ridiculous little things you say.”

Past midnight? Adam, you godforsaken liar.

I glance down at the book in my hands. History of the Snowcrest Bastion. “I am bored with these,” I mutter, too far drenched in a trance to make sense, “I do not understand these intelligent books of your choice. But why do you look so pleased?”

My brother shakes his head. He gazes out of the window, hand covering the subtle, fond smile on his lips. He sighs. It is then that I notice a delicate silver charm hanging from his leather cuff, shining and reflecting the gentle burning heat of the sun. “Nothing.” 

That is it. I should've known. “Brother, these days, I think we are being affected by a mental problem.” I suck in a deep breath. There is no convenient way to say this out loud. “Tell me the truth. You haven't felt the same since the past couple days, do you? It's as if the world is a strange mix of colours and sounds and you do not know where you are? Even time stops!”

I watch my brother’s eyes light up. Behind him, Adam tilts his head, curious gaze burning holes in my skull.

“How do you know?” Tayash eases into the chair, rubbing his chin with a finger.

“Isn’t it? We were in the Cathedral a moment ago— ”

“We?” The grin drops off my brother’s face.

“You.” I cough, pressing the book to my chest. “You were in the Cathedral. I was in our library. Reading this.”

“The Snowcrest? The Sangyals?”

“It’s Himachal, if we follow their terminology. Snowcrest is simply a translation in our language.”

My brother’s jaw ticks and the vein on his forehead pops as he forces himself to smile. “You’re learning their language, I suppose? A lot of free time on your hands.”

I steal a glance at Adam. That impassive, expressionless snake. Gods he is handsome.

“No.” I slide the book back to the table. “And don’t divert the subject. We were talking about time.”

“Go on.”

“On Sunday, you were at the Cathedral. The spring harvest.”

My brother nods.

“Where were you on Monday, the day after?”

He rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers, tapping the crossed foot twice on the chair. “On a visit to the Gold towers, south of this city.”

“I know where the gold towers are,” I snap. “The day after and the day after?”

Tayash falls a little silent. “The recruitment of soldiers takes time and resources. Must I discuss those matters with you, dear little sister?”

“Why? Are we at war?”

Tayash laughs. “Stop reading all those books.”

“I do not remember what happened four days prior. And it is your fault that you stock up the library with these books on wars and diplomacy. Then you make me feel so stupid and moronic as you and your kingsguards all laugh behind my back —”

“You should be in your bedchambers already.” I hear Adam say.

I see books. Dim, dark, dusty, mossy, leather bound books. “You…” I push myself off the shelf. “You all are making a fool of me.” My fingers paused at the spine of the History of the Snowcrest Bastion. “Why are we back inside here?”

“It’s eleven at night, my lady. I have his highness’ strict orders to escort you to your bedchambers.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

But Adam doesn’t look at me. He never does. Eyes fixed on the books behind me, jaws set in an unreadable expression. No, it is the exact same face he wore yesterday. Yesterday. Or four days ago? Does he ever smile, or cry, or rip his hair out in anger… Why have I never seen him do that? All I know of him is that he is cold, a tad bit shorter than my brother and that he could have been the most handsome man in our kingdom… or is this even a kingdom? I step away from him, the books, out of the library and back into the well lit corridors that lead to my chambers. The Azov peaks still stare straight into my soul and the wind is unnervingly cold.

And that night, I do not dream. I do not sleep at all.