Yuragwyn: Yours

---Chapter 23

∞Kaitra∞

The door creaks open and Calanthe slips in, fresh compresses in her hands. Her hair is now falling out and messy, and her makeup is streaked in large fans across her pale, freckled cheeks. She wipes her forehead with her bare arm before sitting down on the cot beside me. "How are they feeling?"

"I feel nothing until I try to move," I answer, lifting my arms slowly so she can see.

She blanches and turns away. There are small boils where the skin has burst now. My stomach too does a turn at the sight. She gingerly trades the compresses. "They might take a while to heal."

"I know," I whisper back. "So much for being helpful."

"You'll be fine," she says. "Now we have even more excuse to get together. Listen," she straightens up and leans over, her lips only inches from my ear. "Gossip is we've been discovered missing from all general whereabouts in Yuragwyn. They're sending five units over just to look for us."

My eyes grow wide, "But Traugott has been with the head guard all day practicing with the men. You don't think they've sent him too?"

"He's been appointed a guard himself," she answers, soothing my fears. "There will be five less units here to watch us."

"Does it scare you that this has happened so easily?" I ask, staring at the ceiling. "It feels just too perfect."

She twiddles her thumbs a bit, and her dark eyes dart here and there. When no faces can be found, she looks back to me, "It scares me terribly. Traugott sees it in good fortune. Briallen doesn't care- she hasn't cared about anything as of yet. She has avoided me all day, when I try to go speak with her."

And then my conversation with Briallen all those ages ago in Quieve comes back to mind. Calanthe still trusts Traugott blindly. I cannot do the same.

"Kaitra, can I ask you something?" Calanthe whispers.

I nod, already pretty sure of what she will say, but still completely torn on how I should reply.

"What," she pauses and starts again. "What do you think of Traugott?"

Thoughts tumble around in my mind like little children all wanting to be first in line. There is so much I could tell her, so much she needs to know. I remember him chasing me through the woods that very first day, and I remember him putting my hair up in a bun the day we ran through that wood again. I remember him slapping me the first day, and I remember him holding my hand today, at the gate. Then I think about what I really think about him, and I am confused. It's like there are two sides of him in my mind: the man I've always wanted, and the man I could never stand. Nothing harmonizes. He is both my dearest friend and my worst enemy.

I have to pause and think again. When did he become anything but an enemy? I remember the River Rapha and him holding onto me there, pulling me to safety and most probably saving my life. I remember him helping me with the pegasuses on the boat when the storm raged that night, him standing between me and the railing as the waves crashed over us. I remember the look in his eye when he came to see me after I burned myself, full of genuine worry and care.

"Well?" She prompts.

I am brought back out of the scrapbooks in my mind and to the pressing question before me. What does one say when they are completely and totally torn by a person?

Nothing.

I close my eyes, "It is not for me to say, Calanthe. I have little belief that you would like or listen to my opinions."

Calanthe gets up quietly and leaves, and I regret the harshness of my words. Surely I could have given her some nice word, to calm her heart and make her smile, even if I did not fully believe those words. My burns continue to throb with intense pressure, and I grit my teeth against the pain and try to calm myself before I say something else I shouldn't.

₰Traugott₰

The commander, Cyneric, points out a cot for me, and I set my pack down at its foot. The room reeks of sweat and dirty boots, and I take only shallow breaths through my mouth while we grab our change of outfit and march down to the bathroom.

I am in the last group to bathe, and the water is dank and grey by the time I slip into it. Still, it relaxes my muscles, and I close my eyes and stretch a bit. I think about all my comrades, fighting to the death on the plains and in the woods of Yuragwyn, and here I am, bathing in the palace in Granziar. A pang of guilt stabs at me. I should be in the thick of all that blood and gore; I should have a blade in my side or an arrow in my back. I should have died nearly three years ago. Neither Kaitra nor Briallen would mind, and, truth be told, I think Calanthe would rather Enion be here than me.

"Trevelyan!" Cyneric barks. "Get moving!"

I rush through the pretense of actually bathing and get dressed and in line, my hair still dripping. Cyneric points me to a chair. I sit down slowly, tense at first, but then relax as a servant pulls out a razor with which to shave me. The weeks of rustic living and running away fall off in small grungy piles.

Cyneric looks at me twice, then three times, before shaking his head and ordering us upstairs and to bed.

//•••//•••///•••\\\•••\\•••\\

I wake up more refreshed than I have since we left, and immediately I feel guilty because of it. I am getting comfortable, but mice never let down their guard around the blind cat. I saw Cyneric's confused expression when he saw me clean shaven. Does he recognize me?

In morning free hour, before training, I go in search of Kaitra. I doubt she fully realizes the extent and severity of her injuries: burns like hers never fully recover.

And then again, she might know her situation completely and is keeping this nonchalant manner for Calanthe and Briallen and me. Still she is convinced that showing us her weaknesses will cause us to find her useless, yet, she goes out of her way to be rid of us forever. What does she want? Her fear and self-consciousness pin her into a paradox. I am helpless on the outside.

"Kaitra?" I whisper. She still lies on her bed, compresses pressed onto her burns.

She turns her head towards me. "What, Trevelyan?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. It's my arms that are the problem," She answers. A ghost of a smile plays on her lips.

"Are you able to get up and move around then? Your burns will heal faster if your blood flow continues smoothly."

"If you insist, Trevelyan," Kaitra grumbles. She swings her legs over to the floor and stands. Her legs shake a bit, and I grab her hand to steady her. There is no mistaking it. We have a connection, Kaitra and I, deeper than any friendship could ever go. I wish, as she looks at me, that she sees the same, feels the same.

But then she breaks away and leads us into the hall and down the stairs without a backwards glance.