The world collapses in on itself again, people fading away like sand from a fist and that sound— the odd sound— rings louder than before. In a heartbeat, I find myself seated on the settee in my private parlor.
“Tara, you look happy.” I hear my brother’s voice behind me. My tongue quivers inside my mouth, throat hesitant to speak out something coherent. I look at him wide eyed, taking in his military uniform and leather belts strapped across his arm. Sweat drips down his brow. “Is it a good day?”
Beside me, the curtain flutters, a sweet spring wind caressing the ends of my hair. The smell of ginger tea wafts through the wisps of steams, and a decorated platter of assorted biscuits and cakes lay on the table before me.
“How did you get here!” I rise up from my seat and an ache shoots up from the base of my spine to my neck, a very painful reminder of the whale bone stuffed in my chest. My dress had changed from the muddy frock to a powder blue silk gown, dark blue ribbons at my waist and matching shoes. I look at the small mirror on the teapoy. Stone jewellery traded away for silver and my hair wound in an elaborate braid.
Who changed my clothes?
Tayash settles down on the chair by the window, a confused but amused look in his eyes. “I walked upstairs.”
Adam leans by the door threshold, his arms crossed across his chest and one leg stretched out.
"No," I tear my gaze away from Adam, "no that is not what I mean. But how did we," I point between the three of us frantically, "Get here, as in inside the castle. From the Cathedral to here."
Tayash rubs his temple with his index finger, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "You want to visit the Cathedral?"
"We were in the Cathedral, you—" dolt! “Wait, what day is it?”
“It’s Thursday, he says. My mind struggles to grasp the weight of his words. Four days have passed since a moment ago. Tara," his grin grows wider, "you're being ridiculously funny today. What is the occasion?
My brother. Grinning. My jaw drops down. That man never grins. He has never even smiled once since Frederick passed away. After his best friend’s death, he shut himself off in a shell and erected impenetrable walls around his heart. It is near impossible to elicit a reaction from him outside of the battle field or the training ground.
“Nothing,” I sink down in the chair, “absolutely nothing. You tell me, brother, how did you think of me?” Judging from his face, he doesn’t seem to experience anything out of the ordinary. Then. . . is it just me?
“Oh well.” My brother gestures towards Adam. “He said you wanted more books. You should have told me, Tara. I will send out some servants this evening.”
Adam. He remembers that conversation. I don’t know why but I feel my gooseflesh rising and my throat constricting at the sight of them. I glance down at the book in my hands. History of Ryftan Empire. “I am bored with these,” I mutter, too far drenched in a trace to make sense, “I do not understand these intelligent books of your choice. But why do you look so pleased?”
My brother shakes his head. He gazes out of the window, hand covering the subtle, fond smile on his lips. He sighs. It is then that I notice a delicate silver charm hanging from his leather cuff, shining and reflecting the gentle burning heat of the sun. “Nothing.”
That is it. I should've known. “Brother, these days, I think we are being affected by a mental problem.” I suck in a deep breath. There is no convenient way to say this out loud. “Tell me the truth. You haven't felt the same since the past couple days, do you? It's as if the world is a strange mix of colours and sounds and you do not know where you are? Even time stops!”
I watch my brother’s eyes light up. Behind him, Adam tilts his head, curious gaze burning holes in my skull.
“How do you know?” Tayash frowns.
“Isn’t it? We were in the Cathedral a moment ago— ”
— and now we are outside. Once again, what in the Devil’s name is going on! A gush of wind blows me off my feet and that sound— that irritating sound — force stops my pulse for a second. I am holding a tray of biscuits, outside the castle, just before the threshold of the infamous red district on the very edge of the capital. Blinding red chiffon hang from the balconies of those close knitted houses. They are stacked impossibly close— the roof of one house doubling as the courtyard of the one above it. I wondered if a simple breeze could knock them flat like a tower of uncemented bricks. That aside, however, how is whatever this is, even happening?
“This is not a place for someone like yourself, my Lady,” says Adam. His eyes are fixed at the drunk old ragamuffin holding a pillar like he would hold a lover, eyebrows scorned in distaste. “Your brother would have my head if he knew where we are.”
“Exactly! I was sitting in my parlor literally moments ago, and you were there— !” I shout at him, completely livid and anxious. But then a metaphorical brick of impending doom hits my head. Adam is everywhere, wherever I go. My eyes sting, jaw hurts and head thrums with a scorned ache. “Don’t lie to me, Sir Adam. You see everything, I know you do. You even tattled me to brother,” I am barking on top of my voice, but the knight pays no heed. “Hah. . . do you even notice what I say?”
“Please pardon me for being outspoken but this is not a place for someone like you.”
“That is what I said! Why am I here? And why are you here?”
“It was your idea to celebrate your birthday in this way,” he says with a tick of his jaw, “doing something for the children of these harlots.”
My birthday…? Is it April already? Two months in mere minutes? I look up at the sky. Thinning wisps of summer cling to the morose clouds in the most desperate manner, as if they are holding on for the sake of their own existence. “Sir Adam, are you playing a joke with me?”
“No!” He groans, then pinches the bridge of his nose, “your brother would have my head if he knows we are here.”
It is April already. The willful colours of wildflower and daisies do not splash against the grim sandstone of these houses. In retrospect, would my meagre biscuits ever satiate the hunger of the children running amok in those dilapidated residences? Am I… going mad? “No. No, no no. I was with you in my private parlor. Moments ago.” I blinked and looked at my body. Muddy brown dress and straw slippers. “How did we magically travel from spring to summer? And this isn’t like me at all! I do not help people so superficially.”
The displeased look on Adam’s face continues to grow. “My Lady, what has happened to you? You have been pestering me practically all day and night to accompany you just for these few biscuits.”
He is lying. “I, pestering you? Where? In your imagination or your nightmares?” Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, I suppose he has about the same knowledge as I do. I narrow my eyes, jaw clenching at the falsehood he just sprouted. “Which exact day did I decide to be here?”
Adam’s eyes flitted to the right; a subconscious action he never knew he had. His eyes move to left and right directions when I ask him something about the future and the past. “About a week before,” he says, “You said you wanted to go and I couldn’t dissuade you. I followed you as of my own conviction.”
“How did we get here, Sir? Through foot or by a carriage? And I don’t consider myself generous enough that I would let you sit beside me— ”
“There.” He interrupts me and points to a black carriage behind us. “And I am to accompany you at all times, but didn’t you say that you like my presence?” Two brown horses are attached to the rather small carriage, which bears no decorations save for the very tiny emblem of our house engraved in a tiny corner. Visible only if squinted quite hard.
I cringed. “I did?” Anyhow, wasting time with him will lead me nowhere. I trot forward, enough confidence in the state of my clothes that they make me look like a deranged daughter of some peasant who can only offer cookies out of goodwill. If people ask who that finely weaponized knight is, Adam can surely lie about being my fiance. Yes well, I am pretty enough to snag a knight from the ducal house. “This won’t do,” I say to the warm blue skies, fists holding the tray in a firm resolve. “We need to build a community work centre. Carpentry, sewing, painting, instruments, basic grammar and mathematics.”
“And why would you do that?” Adam’s words hide a bitter undertone that I could not understand.
“I can’t possibly let children rot, can I? All of them are equal and I am merely giving them a small chance at proving their merit. Also, take funds out of my allowances. If I can not make myself prettier with that money, I might as well make someone else.”
“No.” Adam hisses a muted whisper. “Why would you do something for this place when you are going away soon?”
“I am going away?” My eyes widen. Do I blab such nonsense in one of my delirious fits sometimes? “Where to? Why?”
“Not that,” Adam grits his teeth and forces his face to the side. “You are seventeen already. There is only a year left now.”
“You are not making sense now. A year left? For what? The next memory loss shenanigan? Or the next— ”
A horde of children about half my size hound me and snatch away the tatters of the biscuits in my tray. Behind me, I see Adam struggling with a larger horde as he has a larger sack of snacks. As if he realises, Adam raises his head up to look at me. I stand there, frozen under the shade of Abbess Petunia, the largest brothel in the district. We were on the threshold of the district moments ago. Before I can throw the platter away and rush back outside, a woman dressed in red silk knocks into my side, sending me down to the pavement.
“Thief!” A voice yells, as I am engulfed by dirt and half naked children. A few men wearing black cloaks rush past me, narrowly missing stomping on my temple. That is the last thing I see before my head hits the ground and the world before me fades to black.
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