Page 59 of Sunder

“Both,” Athan affirmed. “Context and most relevance seems beneficial.”

His eyes moved to hers.

He felt it. Her unhappiness. And he was sorry, but this was necessary.

She’d heard it all before, although now it was coming from inside of her, whispering and promising. Irksome, to be sure.

Mama must have seen it in her expression because she put an arm about her. “I’ve been packing up your things.” She said it with a forced lightness to her tone—as if it was an event she’d been looking forward to for a long while. But she paused. Frowned a little. “That is... we assumed you would go with him.”

Her parents shared a look, and she could well imagine the conversation that went along with it. They couldn’t possibly have him. Allowing the occasional visit was one thing. But offeringhim a place in the tower—most especially when it would be passed to her elder brother...

It would only delay their eviction.

There were other properties. Smaller offerings on the outskirts of the district. Undesirable, by their standards, but surely an upgrade to the hovel they imagined Athan lived in.

Where they were packing for her to go without having seen it.

She took a breath. They hadn’t cast her out. That was worth something.

“He has a home,” Orma assured her. “And an infirmary. To tend his patients so they needn’t come too close when they are ill.” She did not mention it was situated just beside. That she was worried terribly about shared walls and being unfit to care for Athan if he took sick.

“That sounds perfectly situated,” Mama insisted, squeezing her tightly for just a moment. Orma had wanted that, hadn’t she? Comfort and familiarity?

Why then did it now feel disingenuous?

“I should like to see your room,” Athan cut in. “If that is permissible.” He said it with that smile of his, and it seemed Mama was not immune to his charms because she grew flustered for just a moment before stammering out her assent.

“Of course. Orma, if you’re not up to packing, I can have someone come to help or...”

“That will not be necessary,” Athan added. “But thank you for the offer.”

He went to Orma and took her hand, waiting for her to lead the way. It was not far. The library was on the fourth storey of the tower itself—up on level from the sitting room.

He did not pick her up, but kept hold of her hand as she descended to the ground floor.

“Making your escape?” Athan asked, giving her hand a little squeeze.

“No,” Orma murmured, more sullen than she’d hoped it to come out. “You wanted to see my room.”

She’d had a different one, once. Up higher, with views of the ocean where she’d sit and pretend she was one of the flutter-flies she’d see in the garden. Wild and free as she’d go from one flower to the next, then up to the tallest trees to make nests for the winter months.

Then they’d come out all at once when the winters were over. They’d dance and flutter in the sea spray before charging into the coast in search of spring flowers to begin all over again.

Perhaps he wouldn’t know it was strange that her room was on the lower level. Perhaps he wouldn’t realise its significance. That it meant they’d accepted there would be days when her wings couldn’t support her to go up where she belonged.

But there was an ache he must have felt as she trudged toward her room. It wasn’t difficult to find—that was rather the point, after all. Servants had to bring meals. Healers had to do their checks.

She wondered how he saw it. It was a room, but it was also her sanctuary. Or had been, when no one else was in it. Those times felt like an invasion and it set her skin to prickling whenever she would hear the latch move.

It was one of the larger rooms—although she could not recall what it had been before. She just remembered Mama bringing her once it had been redecorated, showing her the plush chair where Mama would sit with her. The pretty bedspread that had been brought new, and didn’t she like the flowers embroidered along the hems? All soft colours. Nothing dark. No black or grey. Those were too sombre, and Orma needed only the prettiest colours to get better.

She’d been drugged at the time, her mind very far away from rooms or flowers or what colours brought healing and which ones didn’t. She just knew what it felt to be lowered into a bed.For her mother’s hand to smooth against her brow before she kissed it. To like it far better than the cellar room with the...

She curled into herself.

Wouldn’t think about it.

Couldn’t think about it.

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