Figurehead

thirty

It's not easy to keep hoping he'll wake up. It's been eight days, after all. He has only three or so left, at the most. I put the now-empty spoon back into the now-empty bowl and set it on top of the chest of drawers before taking a cloth and wiping any remnants of the soup away from his lips. The doors shut with a thud.

"Whose idea was it for you to stay in here?" I turn to see Lus standing shakily, a staff in his hands. He's obviously wearing more than a loincloth now, but still, I can see hints of cloth-wrappings around his arms and legs.

I shrug. "I don't know."

He nods, shuffles into the room to stand at the end of the king's bed. "It's hard to see him like this."

I nod. My neck has healed a lot more now, and it's only a little uncomfortable to move my head. "It is," I murmur.

"You seem alright," he comments, glancing at me. "Did you sleep too?"

I nod. "I slept for two days. I seem alright because it's been a week," I point out.

He sighs heavily, fixing his gaze on his kin. "I haven't seen him so.. Still, for so many Dre." I press my lips into a line, knowing that the last time Dein and Lus were so subdued was after Dein's sister died.

"I could never have imagined things would turn out this way," I murmur after a long pause. I hesitate before standing, pushing the chair over to him so he can sit.

He nods his thanks. "Go get the other chair. From in there," he nods at the other door, the one next to my piled belongings. I cross the small space, stepping over my pallet and past my things, pushing the door open for the first time.

The room I see is almost half the size of his bedroom. There is a hearth in the wall at one side- to my right- and a large desk in the centre. There is another door, on the wall opposite me, but it is barred by a chest of drawers, next to which are a small pile of cushions and a chair. At the back of the room- at my left- is a shelf and another chest of drawers.

Upon closer look as I step inside, I can see the things on the desk have been arranged neatly. Unused parchments in a pile there, a handful of nibs next to some ink wells, sealing clay beside it, sealed messages on the other side of the desk, the Escrituras in the desk centre. Remembering why I'm here, I take the chair and leave the room, closing the door behind me.

"You remember when you first met?" I glance at him as I sit. "I mean, when you first met Dein. I don't know if we'll ever remember how you and I met," he adds, shaking his head a little at the fact.

I return his smile. "I remember," I say softly.

To become honoured as trusted messenger, each potential trusted messenger is tasked with sending messages from one of the Sirdiu or Escatin to another. However, they aren't told this, merely going about their duties as normal.

For my first task, a High healer- a mere potter, she pretended to be- gave me a message to send to a former High Commander in Anshakim, who I had thought was merely a stable-hand. My second and final task was unusual. Normally, more than four tasks are required before a messenger is considered trustworthy.

But then, I had befriended one of the Escatin. And not any of Escatin blood, but the almost-brother of the prince. Being a trusted messenger himself, he'd somehow managed to reduce the tasks required of me to two. "How did you reduce the required tasks for me?" I'd asked him, but he'd never told me. Riu had eventually- Dre later- let slip that he hadn't needed to do anything, actually. The Sirdiu had seen our friendship, seen that Lus' relationship with the prince had been told to no-one, and assumed I could be trusted that way.