Ties That Bind

Heart's Blood pt. 2

The first thing she hears upon her return is that Nisa is dead. This means nothing to her and it means little to Winnara, for she has a batch of Shadows who will be ready to take Nisa's place given a few more years. If anything, Nisa's absence means Ofelia has one less person to skirt around.

Shelagh pulls her aside into one of the infirmary rooms, where a body is laid out on a table, covered in a white cloth. Even in Shasan people see white as the death color, but perhaps this is a coincidence. Ofelia doesn't know what Shadows do with their dead. Now that she thinks of it, Ofelia doesn't even know what Tormoirans would do. She can't remember or perhaps she never knew.

Shelagh nods to the body on the table and Ofelia steps forward, pulling the sheet off in one swift movement. Without the covering, the faint smell in the room intensifies to something pungent and unbearable. After a moment of visceral reaction, Ofelia schools her face into a more neutral state and looks blankly down at Nisa's decaying corpse.

Nisa's body has stiffened and puffed up. Her skin is tinged green, turning purple in some places as it begins to blacken and rot. Nisa's eyes are open and blank, bulging out of their sockets from the death swelling. She's been dead at least two or three days, judging by the state of the body and what information Ofelia has acquired.

The stench of death calls the butterflies, the white ones that eat up what's left behind. They thump against the window at the other side of the room, begging to be let in so they can feast on the hearty meal just out of their reach. One butterfly hits the glass too hard and plummets to the ground, whereupon several others zoom down to take care of it.

The nails on Nisa's fingers and toes are missing. Ofelia grits her teeth and looks closer, walking circles around the deady body as she looks for what Shelagh wants her to see. She inspects Nisa's fingers and feet. The skin between her fingers and between her toes are cut up. Little scratches mar the skin of her feet. Skin has been torn away all along the inside of her arms. A slit just under Nisa's chin marks the spot where a dagger must have gone in- marks the spot of the injury that ended her life.

"Zimena," Ofelia murmurs, having seen her work before.

"That's what I thought," Shelagh responds, tone icy. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her nothing," Ofelia answers, making sure to keep her voice level. "You have been in my head. You know what I've said to her."

Shelagh takes a step forward and shuts the heavy door behind her, pointy shoes clacking on the stone flooring. Her hair is unbound and wild. It spills forward as she leans closer, voice dropping to a hiss.

"She is not one of us. The Shadows of Tal Moori are respectable. We do not train our Shadows to torture or manipulate others. Zimena of Wayfinder is not one of us. She is not a friend."

"Clearly," Ofelia murmurs, against her better judgement.

Shelagh's hand strikes out to slap her. It's not the worst Ofelia's been dealt, but something about the action of being slapped is more embarrassing than a punch. It's like being a reprimanded child, although no one at Tormoira would have ever hit her (at least to her memory- everything is so fuzzy now).

"Zimena wanted information and I doubt she would have left without having gotten what she wanted," Shelagh continues, leaning forward. "Nisa was not a spy. Pray tell, what information do you think she would have had?"

Ofelia grits her teeth. "I said nothing that would have given her a lead. You know what I've said."

"All she needed was an inkling," Shelagh says. "I looked into her information at Wayfinder and found she worked freelance after she worked through her initial contract with the man who bought her. Now, she works mainly in Habria."