Page 101 of Anathema

“Thank you, Rykaia.”

She turned toward the door, but swung back around. “Why are you here?”

Dumbstruck by her question, I pondered it for a moment.

“What drove you beyond the Umbravale?” she clarified.

“I told you, my sister and I were chased through the woods.”

Crossing her arms, she shifted on her feet. “And, so, if you were to go back, if you found your sister, would you stay in your world?”

It was a good question. Would I? What was there for me? Certainly no family, nor home, nor the village I’d grown up in. None of them wanted me.

“I don’t know. In my world, I was considered cursed. An outsider.”

“Did your family curse you?”

“The villagers. I was found by the woods as a baby. The governor thought it was an act of mercy, but the villagers thought me an aberration. And then, of course, there was the accident.” I lowered my gaze to my fidgeting hands.

“What accident?” she asked.

While it was a stain on my conscience, even after all these years, I hadn’t decided how much I should’ve shouldered the blame for it.

Remorse bit into my words with jagged teeth, as I relived that day, telling her the story of how Lilleven and her brother had taunted me, picking at my clothes and calling me Lorn. I didn’t know why I bothered to detail it all. Maybe because I’d listened to everyone else’s versions of the story my whole life, and it felt good to put the truth out into the universe. Or maybe I needed to remind myself of the truth. Either way, I kept on, “She told me she longed to see me burn at the stake, so in retaliation, I told her I longed to see her trampled by horses.” Even then, I still winced at the harsh words I’d spoken. Didn’t matter that she’d threatened me, too. What had bothered me most was that I’d let her words crawl beneath my skin. “As she was crossing the road, a carriage barreled into her. I should’ve been burned, or banished for her death, but I suppose the village saw fit to punish me in other ways.”

“I find it interesting that any time a girl is unusual, or dare I say, unique, she’s deemed evil, or cursed.” From the ledge beside the basin, she lifted one of the bottles there, uncorking it for a sniff. “I’ve also learned to survive on the mere crumbs of social graces. Like you, I’ve grown thin and weary from it,” Rykaia said with an unexpected doleful expression, setting the bottle back down. “I’m sorry, Maevyth. I’m sorry they treated you so horribly. But I’m not sorry she’s dead.” With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her, and for a moment, I pondered her cold words. How easily she’d spoken them.

Distracting myself, I glanced around again, marveling at the gorgeous detail in the glass above me, the frescoes painted on the outside of the windows and down the walls, the absolute luxury that I had never known myself. Grandfather’s winery had allowed us to live comfortably, but never royally.

The door flew open, and I startled, nearly tumbling backward into the water. Rykaia strode in, carrying a white garment. “I nearly forgot your nightclothes.” She slipped past me and plopped it down with the towel.

I only managed a quick, “Thanks,” before she slipped out of the room again, closing the door behind her.

Pausing for another potential interruption, I stared at the door a moment, then undressed quickly, discarding my black dress and choker alongside the stone basin. The wavering light from the candles offered a small bit of illumination, as I carefully stepped down into the warm water that gathered around my legs like a hearth-heated blanket. A stone ledge beneath the water served as a place to sit, and I closed my eyes as I breathed in the steam rising from the surface. How the water remained warm was a mystery I didn’t have the energy, or care, to untangle. But I was grateful for that magnificent heat that soothed the ache in my muscles.

Candles flickered around me, the water dark and depthless as I peered down at my submerged hands. Aleysia would’ve hated bathing with candles. My sister had always feared the dark, but I was the opposite. I’d always found the light far too scrutinizing.

On a long exhale, I rested my head against the edge of the basin and closed my eyes for a moment. In the quiet of my mind, I saw my sister–cold, bruised and beaten.

The pressure in my sinuses had me sitting upright, and I pulled my knees into my chest. For the first time since having separated from her, I finally broke. Every horrible thing from that night sank its teeth into my conscience and tore away at my heart. I wanted to reach into the void and pull my sister from whatever misery she suffered, to divide the burden so that she might have a moment to breathe. While we may not have been blood, I loved her as a second half of myself. A twin.

My mind tormented me with the fateful moment when I’d jumped through that archway. A hasty act of stupidity. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should not have left you, my sweet sister.”

I cried for what seemed like an eternity in the span of mere minutes. All the agony and pain poured out of me in hot tears that fell into the water like poison rain. I let the misery I’d tucked away ravage me, pulling me into the depths of possibilities I didn’t want to imagine, the worst being her death. Until I had no more tears. Nothing left in me.

I stared out at the mountains in the distance, where the moon appeared as a downturned crescent. I’d never seen such a thing. Most of the second moon remained off to the side, out of the window’s view. I wondered if the two ever crossed, what it’d look like.

The distraction dulled the pain and guilt that my head refused to relinquish.

A voice inside my mind told me that every decision Aleysia had made, had been her own, and that I was not responsible for what might have happened to her. That voice carried the distinct tone of Zevander, mirroring what he’d said to me earlier about refusing to eat. While I loathed my irascible captor, in spite of his grumpy demeanor, he’d spoken some measure of truth.

I lifted my head from my knees and glanced around at this sacred space that belonged to him. A space that I had invaded with my anguish and tears.

From the ledge beside me, I grabbed the bar of soap and sniffed it, greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of warm vanilla, and a spicy berry with a hint of cinnamon.An intricately embellished brass flask that reminded me of an anointing bottle sat off to the side of the soaps Rykaia had provided, and I lifted it and unclasped the small chain connected to the cork top. A delicious scent emanated from the bottle—one I knew distinctly. The woodsy, amber scent that roused my senses.

Foregoing the berry soap,I lathered the other onto the sponge and washed myself of the grime and dirt I’d collected over the last few days.

Once coated in the musky-smelling soap, I stepped off from the ledge where I sat, surprised to find the bottom was much deeper than it appeared, as the water rose up to my neck. I dunked my head below the surface, the vastness of the bath reminding me of the times Aleysia and I would bathe in the river, though the river water was nowhere near as warm and comforting.

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