The Ones We Love, Part III
“How was your first day?” Aonva asked at dinner. With Kurgm and Sirshi still with their respective masters, it was only Oshal, Aonva, and Roshil at dinner. Roshil was feeling better, at least enough that she wasn’t miserable anymore.
Oshal concentrated on the forest. The peace and quiet. The birds chirping as they returned for the warm season. The rustling of the leaves. As he did, the white noise of emotion slowly faded away. He could focus on his sister and Aonva.
“I think I made a new friend.”
Oshal explained what had happened in the forest. After he was finished, he sensed his sister’s skepticism, which he still preferred over misery.
“I’m no expert,” she said, “but I don’t think that’s how friends work.”
“Was everything alright?” Aonva asked. Her worry came through clearly, in both her voice and over her thread.
“We were fine,” Oshal said. “I don’t think he meant us any harm. He was confused about why we were there. I think he was more scared of us.”
“What did Lady Durwey say?” Aonva asked.
“That we’d go back later after she talked with Grand Master Gorkle.”
That calmed Aonva a little. Oshal was starting to think she was always worried about something. In particular, she seemed worried about Roshil. Before that morning, Oshal had thought there was nothing about which either of them needed to worry, that Roshil was a lot happier in the castle than she’d ever been in the city. Now he wasn’t sure.
“So long as they take good care of you,” Roshil said.
“They are.” Oshal smiled to reassure them both. Everything was fine. “What about you two? How were your days?”
“Quiet,” Aonva said. “Master Kaernin doesn’t say much. It’s important not to waste words, he says, since words hold power, and we should be responsible with it. I’m not very good at it, though. I keep getting nervous and talking too much.”
Judging by her rising anxiety, Oshal figured that was happening again. It was like a storm kept forming inside her head. Dark clouds rolled in over a once peaceful sea. Aonva herself was on a boat trying to reach the shore, but the waves tossed her boat away before she could ever reach it.
“That’s okay,” Oshal said, hoping to calm the storm. “I like it when you talk.”
“See?” Roshil said. “It’s not just me.”
The storm in Aonva’s head died down, although the sun didn’t come out yet. It was still there, waiting for her to drop her guard. In an instant, the storm could reform, and she hadn’t reached the shore yet.
“What about you?” Oshal asked his sister, hoping to avoid talking about that morning at all.
“I’m learning how to knit socks. I don’t know why now, rather than during the cold season when we could’ve used them.”
“Nights get cold sometimes, so I think we’ll still want them.”
“He’s right,” Aonva said. “Actually, it won’t be until the hot season when it’s warm at night, and heat typically leaves the body through the feet, so until then, it might be nice to have something like that.”
“I don’t know how long it’s going to take. Master Grund just says ‘It’ll take as long as it takes.’”
Oshal laughed at her impression of Lord Grund. The more time he spent with her here, the more convinced he was that she was happier here. He only wished she could’ve been this happy at home.
He turned his thoughts to the people around them, following their threads. Sure enough, there was still a sense of discomfort like there’d been when they’d arrived at the temple. In fact, it was like that almost everywhere Roshil went. Aonva didn’t feel that way, and he was sure Kurgm and Sirshi were fine. But people around them were uncomfortable with Roshil. Why did everyone act that way? Did Roshil know about it?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He realized he’d been frowning and quickly smiled. “Nothing.”
An overwhelming sense of hatred passed by them, and he heard Roshil growl at it.
“Monster,” the hatred said as she passed.
Oshal felt his efforts at cheering up his sister falling apart. The sunny meadow of happiness was blocked out by dark clouds swirling around a volcano.
“Who was that?”
Roshil’s own anger died down, but it didn’t disappear altogether. “Master Udra. She likes to walk by and call me a monster sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because I look different.”
“So?”
“Not everyone’s as nice as you.” Roshil’s anger rose again. “Some people don’t care who you are, they only care what you look like. Everyone hates me here. The only people that don’t are usually sitting with us.” Something else entered her mind. It felt like an echo booming through the mountains. Pride, respect, even a little awe swirled together in Roshil’s head. “Some people don’t, but they’re the exception.”
The storm grew inside Aonva. Her fear and anxiety mixed with guilt and love. Her boat was still tossed by the sea, but she wasn’t alone on it. Oshal recognized the feeling from his father, usually before he tried connecting with Roshil.
Roshil wanted to push them all away. Oshal was familiar with that particular feeling from her. It’d always followed her father’s attempts at connecting with her, and preceded her running to her room.
“Please don’t go,” he said.
“We’re not allowed to leave the great hall before dinner’s finished unless a master is with us,” Roshil said.
“Why does everyone treat you like that?” Oshal asked.
He heard her lean in closer from across the table.
“They treat me like that because that’s what that dragon did to me. It made me a monster.”
A shadow of fear came over her. It fell over her mind, blocking out the smallest light of happiness. He sensed that thread, always calling to him to follow it into the darkness.
Oshal reached through his own fear and offered his hand to his sister.
“You’re not a monster. You’re my sister. They’ll see what I see in you one day.”
“No they won’t. It’s a curse. They can’t.”
Before Oshal could respond, the end of dinner was called. Everyone stood up and waited. He reached out and felt the threads of the officers getting farther away. Once they’d left, everyone else filed out of the great hall.
Roshil was cursed. That’s why everyone treated her that way. His sister would never be happy, and he couldn’t change that. He couldn’t change the way anyone felt about her. No matter what he did.