Figurehead

twenty-four

I reward her confession with silence, although it doesn't last long.

"You didn't answer all my questions," I say finally. My voice is flat. Empty, perhaps. My closest friends hid this from me for months. "The healers said it was announced just days after he was crowned." Almost against my will, my eyes flick to the bedroom before returning to Tui. She looks tired, more so now that I know.

"Yeah."

"Tui, why didn't anyone tell me?" I ask hollowly. This concerns the empire, and they are my closest friends, have been for Dre. To hide something so significant, something that involves me- I don't know how to respond to that kind of- that kind of betrayal. Not to mention I should have been able to tell they were hiding something. I should have been able to see it. Unless I never knew them as well as I thought. Unless they have hidden so much more than this from me. The idea of it hurts. It physically hurts.

"Janf-"

I cut her off. "Don't bother." I take a deep breath, ignore the pressure building in my throat, the dampness growing in my eyes. "I need to.. Go."

She doesn't say anything or try and stop me as I leave. In my periphery, I can see the trusted palace guards- I don't know who they are- exchange glances, but they don't say anything or follow, either.

I walk. I walk through the quiet halls, some of them empty, some of them with the serving passing through, or with healers or civilians or palace guards walking through, like the one I walk now. I tug my hood down over my head as I descend the steps slowly, gritting my teeth against the cold, against any tears that threaten to fall.

"Hey!" I don't turn, but I suspect the guard's exclamation is directed at me, since others around me turn to look at me. "The healing aren't allowed to leave!"

I keep walking, despite the murmuring around me. The murmuring stops abruptly as someone comes and stands in front of me, face tight with suppressed frustration and a hint of concern. "The healing aren't allowed to leave," he repeats, voice stern but more quiet now.

"The trusted guards didn't try and stop me." I didn't intend to say it aloud, but I do, and I'm glad it was a mere mutter. Maybe it was lost in the wind. The furrowing of his eyebrows says otherwise. He tugs my hood back. "Hey!" I snap.

"Apologies, trusted messenger Janf," he mumbles hurriedly, hands fumbling as he pulls the hood back over my head.

I blink. I recognise him now that the tears have retreated, at least temporarily. "Oed, yes?" He nods. Dips his head, actually.

"Apologies," he repeats hastily.

"It's fine. Enough with the apologies." I don't mean to sound so curt, but his behaviour is so deferential. It makes me uncomfortable. I know trusted messengers have always held higher rank than most of the militia, but this is just.. Weird.

He dips his head again instead, and returns to his place in the palace while I keep trudging forward into the city, hoping he hasn't drawn any attention to me by his.. Unusual behaviour.

My feet lead me to the Sancta.

Because it isn't yet half-day, the time when most people visit the Sancta, there aren't many visible here. I stop inside the courtyard, yank my hood back, and cleanse my hands and face twice in water and once in mixed oil before heading into one of the meeting-places.

The doors to the meeting-places of the Sancta are always open. Always. First light, half-day, falling light, high night- doesn't matter when. There will always be open doors, and always people inside who welcome any in, known collectively as the Dienerin.