Wind Wielder

Chapter 16 - The Court of Dreams

***Trigger warning: Mentions of alcohol dependency, grief, and suicidal ideation. Please read at your own discretion. ***

Zara did not move to the House of Wind that night.

Nor the day after that.

Time seemed to pass strangely. Zara knew by the rise and fall of the sun that well over a fortnight had passed. Knew it by the way the leaves on the trees covering the mountains below her had changed color. It was well into Autumn now. And soon, the air would turn from crisp to cold.

A month. It had been over a full month and a half since the battle. Since Zara had been home.

Zara kept her eyes on the balcony of her room. She kept expecting Kazia to appear there, all radiant smiles and golden plumage. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla would overwhelm Zara as Kazia would lift Zara into her arms and say "None of it is real. You may come home now, you may see me again."

But Kazia did not come. So Zara kept waiting.

And when the waiting grew tedious, Zara asked the Palace for bottles of rum. It gave her them.

Rhys had appeared the moment he returned from escorting Zephyr out. He had seen the crumpled and ripped red and gold sheets and curtains in the corner of the room, and had snapped his fingers. They were gone a moment later, replaced by Night Court colors.

"What do you need?" Rhys had asked Zara.

"Time." Was all Zara could respond with. All she could bring herself to speak.

Zara had not spoken since.

The mind was a perilous thing. Zara had always prided herself for having a strong mind, a stronger sense of will and determination. The mind was what held conviction, what formed a sense of perception and being. It was what formed a sense of self, and cradled a sense of purpose, nurturing it and protecting it.

But Zara had no sense of purpose now, no sense of self. And her mind now suddenly seemed determined to rip her apart.

Had Kazia died alone? Was it painful? Zara searched her memories desperately, trying to recall the last time she had seen Kazia. It had been before the battle had even begun, standing on the hilltop and seeing her among ranks from afar. Zara had told Kazia she loved her then, Kazia had said it too. Had Zara known it was the last time she would see Kazia, there would have been a million other things Zara would have told her.

Zara would have thanked Kazia for her kindness, for her friendship and sisterhood. Zara would have thanked Kazia for choosing to stand by her, when all others were afraid and dismissive. Zara would have thanked Kazia for being her rock Zara could lean against when things became too much, when Zara was overwhelmed and fickle.

If Zara was a tide, rising and falling with each wave, Kazia was the shore. Steady, cheerful, grounded.

But Kazia was no longer here, and so Zara was lost, drifting out to sea.

A crack resounded in the hall outside the door, and a knock came moments later.

Rhys peeked his head through the door. "Zara?"

Zara merely stared, waiting for him to enter. He did so, tucking his hands into his pockets. He strolled into the room, eyes glancing over the unmade bed, the untouched food, and the many bottles of rum left empty in the corner. "How are you?" He asked.

Zara shrugged, leaving the question unanswered. She was sure he could tell, given her state, the state of the room she was in.

Rhys withheld his sigh, not before she missed the slight furrow of his brow. "I'd like to take you to the House of Wind today. Will you allow it?" Rhys asked.