Even years from then, Nia wished she hadn't said that not because of how rude it sounded and was maybe, slightly, just a bit, wounding to a kid, but because of how he'd cried from the sixth bell to the twelfth bell without stopping. Wailing until Nia started crying too out of frustration because he wouldn't shut up.
"SHUT UP" she'd screamed at him. Her blood had rushed in her ears, her eardrums threatening to burst. Her heart had hammered, and her teeth gritted against each other, until bone dust coated her mouth. Or it could've been the powdered sugar she'd been absent mindedly sprinkling into her mouth. Who was to say?
She had tried locking her hands over his mouth. But he'd licked her palms until she was disgusted enough to let go and she laughed at that. Her fury turned into loud, tearful laughter. He'd proven the very thing he was crying against. He'd seen her laugh and cried harder and louder. She remembered the terrifying creak of the floorboards and her mother's steaming silhouette.
She could still feel the sting of her mother's rolling pin.
"Nia. Nia. Nia. Nia. Nia."
Nia sat up and faced the boy, clearly fed up. She clenched her jaw, and fisted her hands in the blankets. The expression on her face was probably murderous assuming from the quick rush of blood out of the boy's face and his slow, deliberate steps away from her.
"What, mop handle?" she asked, using his own insult. Her voice croaked not from sleep but pure threaten.
He creased a brow at that, in confusion. She quietly wondered about that familiar insult. As familiar as her own hands. Realization waned in as she remembered the lips that shaped the words. Not rugged, simple ones but pretty, pretty lips. The color of wildflowers and sea wind and dreams. Her heart softened, and she let out a breath, relaxing her features. She wanted to go back to dreaming, the one place she could find Ailen again. Her heart ached at the memory, wanting to run away from it as much as it wanted to run to it.
The boy gulped. "Letter."
"Nya," she said, reciting one of the alphabets of Iozun.
He twisted his lips. "What?"
"Bad answer to a bad question," she shrugged.
"Remind me to never wake you up again. You're most hurtful in the morning."
Nia kept a blank face, blinking at him in feigned boredom.
The boy shook his head. "You're hurtful all times of the day," he said to himself.
Nia pushed back her hair and lay back on the mattress, her arms braced underneath her head.
"A letter from the Kingdom. Another one. It came this morning. It's addressed to me."
A single ring ran from ear to ear, deafening everything. It wavered, dancing on the ripples of her fear, each wave stronger than the last until it pulled her under. It was funny how terror was described as being underwater, surrounded, suffocating. But being underwater meant pressure, it meant substance, a depth to get lost into. True terror was a numbness, not a detachment. To me, to me, to me. It was floating through nothingness, a constant, a substance that couldn't be thought of and couldn't be defined. Amorphous. It was unknown, but it was Nia's best friend. A friend that had been there forever and would never leave. It had wiped her tears and emptied her until nothing was left to hurt. It welcomed her back, and Nia reluctantly walked to its open arms, each breath a trudging step. A letter, a letter, a letter.
"An invite to tea, today evening. She says she was most intrigued by us both. I think she knows about Ayrith.We can go. The Master isn't making us practice anymore. He's busy working with the Coronacs."
Nia nodded, biting her cheek.
She stood up in her cotton pyjamas and walked to the chair where her cloak hung. Draping it across her shoulders and pulling on the hood, she walked to the door.
"Wait, where are you going?" asked the boy in a panicked voice. "Is something wrong?"
She smiled a small smile. "Everything's going to get so much better."
The boy smiled back, gleaming. "We'll be fine, Nia," he said reassuringly.
She could almost see dreams and visions flitting across his eyes of their future.
The nothingness tightened its embrace.
"You'll be fine," she said and left out the door.
✵ ✵ ✵
"Me? For tea? Are you sure? You must be insane!" squeaked Ana.
The boy held her hands and looked right into her eyes.
"Come with me. She said I could bring guests. Be my guest, Ana."
She bit the inside of her cheek. "What am I going to do? Say no?" she said, grinning.
The boy grinned back as she flung her arms across his neck and pulled him low for a kiss. Their lips met excitedly, pulsing with raw life.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and walked her to the bed. Laying her down. Their lips separating for a single second as she looked up at him with big doe eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair clung to her face. They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity and thirteen minutes.
"I'll be your guest," she whispered, flush beneath him.
He smiled.
✵ ✵ ✵
Author's Note: Ugh. i forgot i had to post all this before i could post a really really good scene. whatever, something about the wait making it worth or something. come back soon for the next part and vote and comment or else... teehee. and yes, i do really think i did sumn with the title. fight me.
love,
Cora. ✮
YOU ARE READING
unraveled
Fantasy"I've seen rats with better attention spans than you," she said onto his face. And then the boy was there pulling her onto her feet and off of him. "But have you seen them with such beautiful faces?" he asked, standing up, brushing off th...
