Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

She often dreamed about lies.
Sometimes they were lies she had told herself; sometimes they were lies she had told others. Most of the time, though, it was lies other people had told her at some time or another which she had believed.
Lies that had brought her to this point, this place where she sat now, in dank, dark cage in a puddle of her own blood.
Nova grimaced in pain as she readjusted her position against the bars. She massaged the crick in her neck with hands covered in dried blood, and tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. Her back hurt to the point where the cacophony of pain had gone silent and settled in her bones as a deep-run fragility, as if the moment she moved from that spot she would shatter from the inside out.
Someone had placed a cup of water at the edge of the cage while she slept. She briefly contemplated making a move to get it, but decided she wasn't thirsty enough. Every now and again she would get a glimpse of the dream she had been roused from and wince, pushing the words down. Pushing the faces down. Blocking them out. Even her back, laid open by the nine-tails, was a preferable source of distraction from them.
It wasn't that she wanted to pretend those things hadn't happened, or those people had never existed. To lose those things would be to lose what little was left of her that she owned. But that didn't mean she had to relive it, over and over, night after night, years after it happened.
Her subconscious mind seemed to have other ideas about that.
The fragile numbness shattered as she peeled herself off the bars. Her skin was hot and raw, jolting her into wakefulness. She sighed, taking a long drink and settling herself cross-legged in the middle of the cage to breathe deeply and close her eyes, willing herself strength. The only light she had was that of a single brazier, which meant it was night outside. Far, far away, she heard a demon howl. The walls of the castle were too thick and well-defended to allow demons in, but the sound still made her shudder.
The door's lock rattled before it swung inward. Silhouetted in the doorway, Brillan nodded a brief greeting. There was no love lost between her and Faellian's personal butler, but in this instance Nova was relieved to see him.
"Am I done?" she croaked, and then cleared her throat.
"I wouldn't count on it," Brillan replied. "But you can come out, if that's what you mean."
Nova stifled another sigh. "He's got more planned?"
"I don't believe his Lordship does, but the many guests you stabbed in the ankle with that pin may not feel you have been sufficiently dealt with."
"It's a hard life," she muttered. Brillan ignored her, gesturing someone forward. Nova's heart sank as Grace stepped into the light with Nova's clothes in her arms.
The girl was visibly shaking, and the colour of her aura was pure horror. Her eyes darted between Nova's bloody countenance and the dark stains on the floor of the cage, and Nova found she couldn't look at her for long.
It had been many years since she'd seen anyone cry for her.
She put it down to otherworld softness, but it still shocked her as Grace clasped her hand and squeezed it under the guise of passing over the clothes. Her fingers were soft and warm, unused to labour, and bubbled all over with blisters as a result.
"His Lordship has allowed you to bathe," Brillan said, "So don't put them on yet."
Nova frowned. She wasn't usually allowed to bathe. "Who's coming?"
"Baron Ethred."
Nova grimaced and hid it with a cough. The Orthanian upper classes were all vile, but Ethred was a particularly unpleasant specimen. She'd had one unfortunate encounter with him at one of the lord's parties and was keen not to repeat the experience.
Grace turned and left, only to return a moment later helping another maid to bring in a tub of water. Steam rose from the surface, reminding Nova how cold it was. She shuddered, laying the clothes on the floor and stepping into the tub, letting out a long breath of relief as warmth enveloped her legs. The other maid immediately set to sluicing her body and scrubbing her down with a coarse cloth. Grace hesitated, hanging back. Her eyes were on Nova's wounds.
"They're better than they look," Nova muttered, glancing at the butler, who had his eyes narrowed on Grace, "Just do it, or this'll be you."
Grace took the cloth and dropped it in the water with shaking hands. Her face was visibly pink even in the gloom of the cell, but Nova couldn't tell if it was tears or embarrassment. Perhaps she'd never seen another woman naked before. Perhaps it was all three.
She stared blankly ahead as they worked, jaw set. Grace was timid about washing her back, taking care not to scrape the wounds, but the other girl had no such reservations. By the time she was dried and dressed her back was bleeding again.
"They don't want you yet," Brillan told her as he led her out by the chain, as if she cared. "You have time to eat and be presentable, and then I will return to get you."
She directed the sour look that had elicited at her feet. She might even have spit on the floor if she hadn't known from experience that she'd get three more lashes and another night in the cage.
Somehow, the indignity of it all never eased even after ten years.
As a royal slave, she wasn't kept in the prison block, but in a small dungeon under Faellian's personal quarters. It had two branching passageways beyond the door, one leading to Faellian's bedchamber and the other to the pantry. The pantry passageway was less used, and the squeaks and skitterings of shadelings accompanied them along the way. Nova caught glimpses of one or two before they scattered as Brillan tried to stamp on them.
"Vile things," the butler muttered.
"I think they're cute," Nova said. The butler tsked and yanked on her chain.
"They're vile," he repeated. "Diseased, greedy, filthy scavengers."
"Are we talking about shadelings or humans?"
Brillan shot her a dark look and didn't speak to her again. He cursed as a small pack of them darted around their legs, little more than dark puffs of fur on bandy legs, and she heard Grace squeak behind her. The slop of water and a hissed warning from the other maid followed. Though Nova didn't hear the words, Grace's response was acerbic and her companion didn't answer.
At least the girl had a backbone.
Though a backbone wasn't always a good thing, she supposed, because Grace still hadn't worked out that it was a smarter idea to avoid her.
"I'm sorry," was the first thing she said as they were left in the kitchens, approaching Nova where she had settled in the corner with a small bowl of gruel.
Nova glanced at her before shovelling more food down. Between mouthfuls, she replied, "What for?"
"I don't know. Giving you the pin, I guess. Washing the wounds too hard. I just....sorry."
"You didn't know what I was going to do with the pin. The wounds needed to be washed."
"And?"
"And that's why I don't understand what in Vestra's name you're apologising for."
Grace frowned and sat on the bench beside her. Nova stiffened.
"I haven't heard of Vestra."
"Not surprised," Nova mumbled, scraping the bottom of the bowl with her spoon. "She's a Caelumese goddess, not a Nictavian one." At Grace's blank look, she added, "A goddess worshipped by angels. My people. She has no Order in the Reach, that's why you've never heard of her."
Grace nodded. "I see."
Nova stole another glance the girl's way before putting her spoon down. Grace looked over at the noise and they met eyes. This time, Nova was the one to flinch and look away. She didn't like how Grace was staring at her, as if trying to see through her at something that wasn't visible. A moment later, the girl sighed and took Nova's bowl.
"Do you want a new shift?" she asked. "That one's bloody already."
"I don't care," Nova muttered. When Grace didn't move, she added, "I really don't. Ethred can burn in the Pit if he doesn't like it."
"I don't care about this Ethred character," Grace retorted. "I'm asking you. I'm not supposed to give you another one, but I will if you want it." She scowled. "Do you?"
Nova scowled back at her. Then she sighed. "That would be nice."
Grace huffed and stalked off with the empty bowl. Once she was gone, Jan came over, rolling dough in her hands. She was plastered with flour and it showered onto Nova's legs as the housekeeper spoke.
"She never stops talking about you, you know," Jan murmured, eyes still on Grace's back as the girl had a heated debate with the pot washer over where she was allowed to put Nova's bowl.
Nova grunted. "What does she say?"
"Much of the same," Jan replied. "She doesn't understand how you got here."
"Bad luck, mostly."
"I told her that."
Nova smirked. "What was her response?"
"If looks could kill," Jan said with a sigh. "Acts like she's never seen a slave before."
"Maybe she hasn't," Nova said, watching Grace as she moved off and vanished around the corner into the washing room. "Sounds nice."
Jan chuckled. "Certainly does."
As Jan moved away to start pounding the dough on the kitchen table, Grace returned, a clean shift in one hand. Traces of a scowl still lingered on her face, and her look, as she handed over the shift, was somewhat chilly.
"Here."
"Thank you." Nova put it on the bench beside her and stood up. There was a draught in the kitchen, but compared to the cell it felt balmy. Grace squeaked as Nova reached down and began to tug off her bloody garment. She paused. "What?"
"Aren't you going to...." Grace's eyes darted around the room. "Go around the corner or something? There are, you know..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "men in here."
Nova cocked her head. "I don't follow. Are you saying I need to hide?" She chuckled. "Because if you think there's anyone in this house who hasn't seen it all already, you're sadly mistaken."
Still chuckling, she wrenched off the old shift and handed it to Grace, who had averted her eyes despite Nova's words. The new one was softer than the last. She rubbed it between her fingers, frowning.
"I used vinegar and herb oil on it," Grace said. "I read somewhere that it softens the fabric."
Nova lifted it to her nose. The tang of vinegar cut through the dusky scent of herbs, but it was faint. She took another deep breath and flexed her shoulders, savouring the ease with which the fabric slid over the stumps of her wings. No stinging or scraping, no catching on scar tissue. Grace looked a tad alarmed when Nova smiled at her.
"Thank you," she said.
Grace's cheeks flushed red. "You're welcome."
Nova didn't have time to ask why Grace's face was almost glowing; at that moment, the maid who had helped bathe her in the cell approached with a hair comb and a wash cloth. Nova looked her up and down. She didn't recognise this one even in the light; it wasn't unusual for her not to know their names – that required them to talk to her so they could tell her what it was – but new faces were uncommon. The lord's wages were too good to pass up for most, even if it meant putting up with Faellian and his tantrums. Most only left on the end of the lord's boot and Nova wondered who this one had replaced.
Whoever she was, she had caught on straight away that Nova was considered bad company, and didn't look inclined to be gentle with the comb. Nova's stomach sank, and all her muscles and the wounds on her back ached anew at the thought of more pain. All the same, she turned and waited. When nothing came, she glanced over her shoulder. Grace had stepped in front of her.
"I'll do it," she said.
"Jan told me to...."
"I'll do it. It can't be that hard."
The other maid's face twisted. Nova grinned at her over Grace's shoulder, eliciting a sneer that only buoyed her spirits more.
"Plait," the maid finally spat, "tied with this." She thrust a length of purple ribbon at the otherworld girl and slapped the washcloth into her hand. "Make sure no one can see blood."
She turned on her heel and stalked away. Nova glanced over at Jan, who was watching with a resigned expression but made no move to intervene.
Grace's hands were gentle as she brushed Nova's hair. Every time Nova flinched in anticipation of pain when the brush hit a tangle she stopped, only resuming when she had relaxed. It was a challenge not to turn around so she could see what Grace was doing and reassure herself that she hadn't somehow skipped to a time and a place she would never get to go back to.
"Excuse me?"
Grace's hands left Nova's hair and Nova opened her eyes, blinking. She hadn't even realised she'd closed them. A maid stood there, and judging by her garb she was one of the kitchen maids rather than a chambermaid. In her hands she was clutching an urn. Faint wisps of an aura clung to it.
"Are those ashes?" Nova asked, before Grace or the maid could say anything.
The maid went ashy grey herself, staring at Nova like a Listener had just broken into the kitchen and started speaking Common. Then, quickly, she nodded.
"How did you get them?" Nova pressed.
Grace frowned. "What do you mean?" She gave the urn an appraising look. "They're a relative's ashes, aren't they?"
The girl nodded again, encouraged by Grace's interest, but her eyes flicked back to Nova.
"If the relative has been cremated, that means they were Orthanian," Nova said. "Orthanian death urns are stored in sealed tombs. They do not leave the priesthood's possession until they are interred. Or they shouldn't, anyway."
"It's only temporary," the maid hissed, and turned imploringly to Grace. "I was wondering if you would bless them, so that he doesn't suffer in the afterlife for the shame I brought him." She shot a dirty look at Nova which she didn't think the girl had meant her to see. "Then I'll return them."
Grace looked mortified. "I-I'm not.... I know you must have...but...."
"She's not heaven-sent," Nova said, scowling. "Not the voice of Kiel or Orthan. Or any of the others. If you want an ordinary woman who just so happens to have come from a different world to say a few words over whatsisface's ashes then I'm sure she'll oblige, but don't expect miracles."
She sat heavily down on the bench by the fire, ignoring the heated glare she received.
"She is right," Grace said in a small voice, "I'm really not. But I'll say a few words if it would help you."
Nova rolled her eyes as the two women moved off. The brushing had taken her mind off the roaring pain in her back, and now it had stopped there was nothing else she could think about.
Apart from, perhaps, the maid from before noticing that Grace had left and stalking over to rub it in.
"She's coming back," Nova muttered, without any real hope.
"You need to be ready in case Brillan comes," the woman replied tersely, tearing the brush through Nova's hair even though Grace had almost finished. Between winces, Nova tried to put a name to a face. She wasn't sure she'd ever known this one's name, but it was clear that she knew Nova from something. The house staff avoided her, but they weren't outright malicious. It wasn't her, but the lord who owned her that was the problem.
That was what she liked to tell herself, anyway.
"I did say I would do it."
Nova sighed in relief as Grace spoke up from behind them a moment later. The brush spines dug hard into her scalp for a moment before leaving her hair altogether. The maid didn't say anything as she stalked away.
"What did you do to her?" Grace asked. "She really has it out for you."
"I would love to know," Nova replied, closing her eyes again as Grace's fingers ran through her hair, separating strands for the plait and laying them over her shoulders. "Could be anything. What did you do with the ashes in the end?"
"Oh," Grace cleared her throat, "I made up a prayer to Orthan and told her to return them."
Nova opened one eye. "You made one up?"
"Talking vaguely about eternal love and blessings in the afterlife usually covers all the bases," Grace muttered, "She added all the specifics in herself and then tried to get me to put my hand in the urn."
"Did you?"
"Of course not. I'd have to wash before doing anything else and I'm not rinsing someone's father down the sink."
Nova snorted.
"Well, I'm glad you're finding it funny." Grace huffed and moved in front of Nova, sliding pins into the sides of her hair to keep the stray wisps in place. Nova frowned up at her, trying to read her expression, but looked away when Grace cleared her throat. The girl's aura flared and then faded again. "You're done. Let me clean you up."
"It's fine," Nova muttered, averting her eyes. "No one will actually notice, you know."
"And you know I don't care about that." Grace glanced at the kitchen door. "Let me clean them up properly. They'll get infected if you leave them open like that and I already drew up a bucket of warm water. So you might as well."
When Nova didn't respond, Grace took her hand and urged her to her feet. Nova stood, staring at their linked hands, and offered no resistance as Grace led her to the pantry and closed the door behind them.