Nevermore

Chapter 3

While the rain is still staved off, Roshan takes me outside, insisting that I need fresh air. 

I think he just wants to show me all of his humble house, which he seems proud of. Like most village homes, a clay oven rests outside. His garden is small, but provides more than enough for him to consume. Walking between the rows, he proudly shows me the flourishing marigolds, flamingo flowers, and the occasional calla lily. Roshan animatedly tells me that sometimes, if you look up into the canopy, you can spot magenta orchids.

I'm starting to think that he's been alone for a long time, with nothing but flowers for company. It begs the question once again: why is he here? He's a young man who should be working with his father. By this time, it would have been customary for him to marry some girl. Something doesn't add up. I sneak long side glances in his direction, but only pick up truthfulness.

He must notice that my thoughts have wondered, because something in his eyes saddens. I wonder what he's thinking.

"What are you thinking?" he asks me. I startle. 

I'm not sure how to respond. He'sstarting to warm up to me, and I'm afraid my next question will ruin his good mood.

I decide to venture into my inquiry as nonchalantly as possible.

"Did you build the house yourself?" I ask innocently.

His jaw twitches, but he answers tightly, "Yes, I did,"

I'm surprised. The house looks to be about five years old. He must be around the age of seventeen, possibly eighteen. How did he manage to build the clay abode so young? 

Something in his expression tells me that I shouldn't continue this line of inquiry. Instead I ask, "If I've been sleeping on the bed, where have you been sleeping?"

I can tell he doesn't want to answer, but I ruthlessly stare at him until he does. 

"I haven't," he sighs.

I cock my head to the side. Seeing my confusion, he reluctantly explains. "Your fever was atrocious- and obdurate at best. You were burning up, and still half delirious. I had to watch you. I'm afraid that if I didn't, you wouldn't be standing here," he grimaces.

I let my features soften. I feel more remorseful than ever. Now that I'm looking at him with a more honed eye, the bruises under his eyes are salient as is the stubble shadowing his jaw. 

"I'm sorry," I murmur.

Once again, he just stares. I'm not sure he knows what to say. Is he mad at me for being such a burden?

In answer to his silence, I add, "I'm nothing but a burden. You don't know what you've brought on yourself by allowing me to stay. I'll leave,"

"Where would you go?" he laughs humorlessly. 

Where would I go? I can't go back to my father's kingdom, I could be tried for attempted murder. The nearby villages would either turn me in for quick money, or run me off. It's clear I can't navigate this jungle. Still, I don't like forcing my situation on Roshan.

"Don't go," he demands.

I try to read his expression, and I think he really does want me to stay. But I don't know him. What if he forces his body upon mine? There would be nobody to stop him. What if he tries to kill me? Nobody would know. Still, one look at the tenderness he reserves for his garden sways me. I believe he has good intentions.

He's lonely. Still, where he is life, I am death. Maybe I can make my retribution by damming his alienation. 

"I'll stay," I admonish.

He smiles.

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Moonlight shines through the gap in the curtains. Through my window, the gardens are as calm as ever. It has that strange night quality of being beautiful, but as empty as glass. Surreal. 

I sigh. I've never enjoyed my nights here. The suitors have ruined any tranquility the moon brought me. Any peace was shattered by their arrogance, their obnoxious extravagance, and the endless meals filled with petty talk. They don't love me. I have the king's dowry. I am money and nothing more.

Shaking my head to clear these thoughts, I hastily jump to my feet. I can't fall off that cliff again. It's a long climb back to the top. 

Suddenly, I'm suffocated by spacious room. I hate the soft linens, the gold framed mirror, the luxurious cushions, and most of all, I hate my own reflection. I stumble out into the hallway, seeking solace. Instead I;m met by rich ivory statues and thick rugs. I hate it here. 

I'm not quite sure where I'm hoping to escape as I trudge along. I trip on the rug, falling face first. The air is knocked out of my chest. Gathering my bearings, I glance up to meet the empty glare of-

I jolt awake with a gasp. My hair is plastered to the side of my face in a cold sweat. I laugh in shaky relief. I'm not there; I'm here. 

i glance around. Per usual, Roshan isn't here. Mother Moon blushes her radiance through the uncovered doorway, onto my pallid face. Collapsing back into bed  like a dead woman, I don't take long to fall asleep once more. 

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Author's Note: I know this took a long time to get to you. I appreciate your patience! Don't worry, there's more to come! Hopefully you weren't disappointed in this chapter!