“I’m starving,” I mumbled.
Rhien chuckled, nodding her agreement. “You should be.” She helped me to my feet, and before leaving, we both strode over to where the masters had resumed sitting in a half circle. She put her palms together like she had when we arrived, repeating the same sentiment. “Thought is life.”
“Life is thought,” they all returned.
Though I didn’t repeat the phrase, I bowed in my own show of respect. “Thank you, masters.”
They bowed to me, and I turned to follow Rhien out to the corridor so we could go and eat. I hadn’t completely readjusted yet, and as we walked out the door, I paused, unable to shake a peculiar feeling. Rhien kept walking because she hadn’t noticed me stop, and so I reached for the waist of my trousers. Pulling the front of them, I glanced down just to make sure. Yes, everything was as it should be, and with that confirmation I was able to shake that unfamiliar strangeness.
“What are you doing?” Rhien laughed.
I glanced up and released my waistline, letting it fall back at my hips as my cheeks colored. I opened my mouth, unable to answer at first and only managing to get out an embarrassed huff of laughter. “Nothing…”
I caught up with her and we continued walking, and though she looked thoroughly amused, she didn’t say anything about it. For all I knew, she was familiar with all the possibilities of being in someone else’s memories—she had been in mine.
When we reached the dining hall, I stopped at the entrance to see where my family was. I found Nilson and my mother, sitting with Kingston off to the right. The very next person I spotted was Ava. She was with Nira and Akamar at the far end of the hall, and as my eyes scanned their table, I locked gazes with Nira. She stood and started over, looking like she wanted to speak with me. Rhien recognized that too, because she said goodbye and parted ways with me.
“Where have you been all day?” Nira asked. “You’re spending time with Rhien?” Her gaze dropped briefly and landed on my hand, and she grabbed it in surprise. “Why haven’t you taken care of this yet?”
I pulled my hand out of her grip, because the more time that passed, the more ashamed of it I was. “Have any more questions you’d like to blurt?” I asked with feigned boredom. “So I can answer them all at once.”
“Yes, actually,” she said. “Were you born this cheeky?”
I couldn’t help but smile, but my gaze wandered past Nira to the table she’d come from, and I realized Ava was watching. I met her blue eyes with mine for only a moment before she looked away. Nira noticed the fading of my smile, and glanced back over her shoulder.
“Have you talked to her?” she asked.
“I tried this morning,” I answered, and just like that, my mood fell. I let out a deep sigh. “She doesn’t want to be around me.”
One corner of Nira’s lips tugged into a sympathetic smile, and she wrapped her arms around my waist to pull me into a comforting hug. “Give her time,” she said. “She’ll get there.”
I squeezed her back for a moment, and then let her go. “I take it she’s speaking to you.” It made sense, why else would they be sitting together?
“When I first saw her this afternoon, she broke down, crying and apologizing and begging for forgiveness.” Nira shrugged. “Now she says a little here and there, but—” She stole a brief look at her sister. “She’s just… broken, Kiena. And it’s Hazlitt’s fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“She does,” I murmured.
“I don’t think she does.” Nira shook her head. “Not the way you expect her to.”
I took another gander at the table, only to find that Ava was looking again. Once I caught her, though, she rapidly looked away. It did nothing to help me know what to think. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, or whether or not she really blamed me. Even though it was hard, I truly was going to have to do nothing other than wait. Wait for Ava to come to me, to either blame me or forgive me. To tell me she wanted me around or wanted nothing to do to me. It was torture, but there was nothing else to be done.
“Go and be with her,” I told Nira. “She needs company.”
Nira nodded in understanding, but for a few moments, she simply watched me. Then she gave me another hug, saying, “You’ll be alright.”
I smiled gratefully when she let me go, and as she went back to her family, I went to sit with mine. Supper passed normally, although, while I still wasn’t back to completely being myself, I was happier now that Ava was here safe. My mother and brother seemed to recognize that, and even if I wasn’t overjoyed in our interactions, they were happy enough for me.
After I’d finished eating, I excused myself to my personal chamber. Though usually I’d stay up later than this, I was exhausted from exploring my ancestor’s memories. It had taken its toll on both my body and my mind, and I needed to rest. Plus, it was late enough that I didn’t need an excuse for going to bed early. So I changed into my sleeping clothes, put out the fire, and slipped into bed. I was so tired that I fell asleep almost instantly, but I woke a short time later because of a sound like someone had knocked and opened a door, and a flood of light that reached my eyes.
Someone had opened my door, and the torchlight from the hall streamed into my room as they entered. I caught the person’s silhouette just before they closed it from the inside.
“Ava?” I called in the dark, sitting up. I couldn’t be dreaming. This was real.
There was no response, but soon I felt the bed beside me dip in, and her cold legs slipped under the blankets at my side. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. All I knew was that she’d just got into my bed and still hadn’t said a word.
“Ava,” I whispered, reaching out with a blind hand. It landed on her shoulder, low enough that I could tell she’d already lain down. I could’ve created a current of sparks to light the immediate area around us, to see what she was doing or judge by her expression what she expected, but I got the feeling that’s not what she wanted. “Are you alright?” I asked, lowering myself back down at her side, facing her.
Though she’d let my hand set on her shoulder, I was afraid to do any more, afraid to touch her more firmly or anywhere else, because she hadn’t wanted me to touch her at all this morning. But in the dark, there was a wet sniffle, and it broke my heart just to hear it. Just to know that she might cry.
“Whatever you need,” I said. “Without expectation.”
She sniffled again as one of her hands landed on my hip, and it lingered there for a long span of seconds in what I knew to be hesitation. But then she sobbed. She broke out into genuine, uncontainable cries, and her arm wrapped all the way around my waist as she pulled herself into me. Her face buried against my chest, and at first, I froze in her grip.
While she’d come to me, and she was close and holding me, I was still afraid to touch her. I was afraid of how much it had hurt when she pushed me away. But she was sobbing violently, and that overcame my fear of being hurt, because she was hurting far worse than it would hurt me to be rejected. So I risked draping an arm over her, lightly at first to test her reaction. She gave none. Not a strengthening of her own grip on me, nor a pulling away.
I set my hand more solidly against her back, holding her a little tighter. More than anything, I wanted to tell her that everything would be fine. I wanted to murmur comforting things, to tell her that I was here, and that I loved her. But like I’d known she didn’t want the light, somehow I knew that she didn’t want me to say anything else. So I just held her. I was unable to fall back asleep until she was finished crying, no matter how exhausted I was, because I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t devotedly and unconditionally here for her.