Light of the Heavens

XXVII. Vestali

Vassa's silence as dawn crept over Sarom was almost deafening to Seben. The apprentice fire-speaker hadn't realized how much she looked forward to the teasing and absent bumps or brushes of contact throughout their normal routine. Vassa was still there, but also...not. She had withdrawn behind her silence into some other place. Her body remained in her usual chair, feet kicked up on the windowsill that looked out over Sarom, but she seemed stiff and lifeless.

Rhujag's large hand settled on Seben's shoulder when he saw her staring at the masked woman for the hundredth time. "I'll keep an eye on the feyling," he said beside her ear. "She won't talk to me."

"And she will to me?" Seben said. Her feelings still stung from trying to greet Vassa and start a conversation. The masked woman hadn't even stopped to listen, immediately brushing the young woman off wordlessly to take a seat in her chair, her back to them.

She hadn't spoken to anyone, not even to the bard she'd rescued.

Seben didn't know if it had to do with the song or something else, but she understood that something was wrong. Apparently it was also on her to bridge the gap, as Vassa wasn't willing to. It bothered her most because she suspected that the root was pain, not anger. Seben doubted this was her fault or Rhujag's. It didn't even seem to be the bard's.

Her hurt feelings wanted to snap at Vassa to get her attention, but Seben was certain that would only drive the masked woman further into the world of her demons. She gathered her nerves and approached Vassa from the side. The hood and mask that were so familiar served now as a formidable barrier, one that Seben hoped wasn't impenetrable. The young woman laid a dark hand on Vassa's shoulder, expecting a flinch away, but the masked woman stayed motionless. Hopefully that was progress.

Vassa couldn't bring herself to relax even when she felt Seben's warm, celestial aura brush against her. All night, she had been unable to rest, tormented by the memories of everything Lysaerys had done to her. The sickening insinuation that she had wanted it, asked for it, made her want to scream. She loved Lysaerys, but that didn't change how much agony and helplessness she had endured at her lisse's hands.

And it's true, isn't it? You did everything your love desired, no matter how it broke you inside, Vassa reflected bitterly.

"Vassa," Seben said gently, trying to reach her friend through the oppressive silence.

Her name sounded so fragile, pleading. It was absent the command Vassa was accustomed to. Not once had Seben ever taken anything that Vassa hadn't given freely. For the first time since they'd all risen, she turned her head towards Seben, to listen to the apprentice fire-speaker.

"I'm right here," Seben said, almost sighing in relief. "You're not alone."

"Perhaps I should be," Vassa said quietly, the words jagged and harsh even if they came from a small sound.

Seben squared her jaw. "I'm not going to abandon you, whatever you think you deserve."

"If you knew me, you would reconsider," Vassa said dismissively.

"I do know you," Seben countered, gaze unwavering as she looked directly into the masked woman's eyes. "I know you saved me. I know you gave a young stablehand money enough to live for years and left him a faithful companion. I know you stopped a desperate urchin from losing his freedom. However rotten you think you are, I've seen the contrary."

"Whims," Vassa said dryly.

"You told me patterns tell the truth of people," Seben said, forging ahead. "I've seen enough of one to know who you are now and I don't care who you might have been."