Lyara and I walk side by side. We had talked things through and I'm believing we were now good. So I thought, but now looking at her, I don't know if things would ever be the same. We're walking quietly, just occasionally smiling at each other. I feel a need to liven the mood so I do. "Remember when Matron Hilda caught you sneaking bread?" I say, nudging her shoulder lightly.
"She nearly broke her spoon chasing me," Lyara chuckles, her eyes bright. "Worth it. That bread was still warm."
I grin. "You were scary then. I couldn't approach you."
She shrugs. "Probably would have shared it with you. If I knew you then."
"You would? Why?" I ask, intrigued.
She shrugs again like it meant nothing. "The day I threw you into the gutter, you look like a kicked puppy. I felt bad. For the first time."
I roll my eyes. "I'm still suffering the consequences."
We both laugh. We're close to the orphanage gate when I suddenly halt. The front of the orphanage is alive with movement…. children racing around, their hands filled with fruit and sweet bread. Bags of flour, rice, and dried meats are stacked by the door. Crates of vegetables sit under the shade of the tree and standing at the center of it all, like a scene from a dream, is Alara.
She's smiling, laughing softly as she watches the children. Her dress catches the fading light. For a moment, she looks… perfect then her eyes land on us, on Lyara. Her smile instantly fades away and without a word, she strides toward me, her hand wrapping around my wrist. She pulls me from Lyara's side so fast I stumble a step.
"My father wants to meet you," she says, her voice low but urgent, almost excited. "Come. And… I brought all of this. For the orphanage. For you."
I blink, unsure how to respond. The kids are still cheering, crowding around the food like it's a festival. But I feel a strange tightness in my chest. Lyara walks up beside us. She's smiling but it's the kind of smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Thank you," she says, her voice sweet as sugar. "Really. All this… it's generous. And, um… I'm sorry for being rude to you before."
Alara raises a brow, her hold on me tightening like she's scared Lyara would snatch me away the moment she lets go.
"Ashen is just my friend," Lyara adds, keeping her tone light. "Nothing more."
Alara now steps forward and I see the flicker of something sharp behind her smile. She leans toward Lyara and pushes her lightly on the shoulder, the push is not hard, but not soft either. "I don't care," she says, still smiling. "I just don't like you."
Lyara stiffens but doesn't show any atom of anger. She still has the smile of earlier and except I know she isn't one to smile, I'd think it's genuine. Alara on the other hand continues, her voice dropping lower. "Ashen's not going to be here much longer. My father's going to change everything. He won't be an orphan anymore. And you… won't matter." She turns to me, tugging at my arm again. "Come. My father wants to see you."
I look at Lyara. Her smile hasn't changed, but now her eyes are glossy like glass and unreadable. She nods slowly. "Go," she says, her voice calm. "Sounds important."
I hesitate, but she's already turning away. "Lyara…"
"It's fine," she says over her shoulder. "Go." And with that, she walks back into the orphanage, disappearing through the doorway without looking back.
I turn to Alara who's smiling like she's won something. I pull my hand from hers and her smile fades. "What's wrong, Ashen?" She ask.
"Nothing," I answer. "I can walk and don't need to be dragged around or treated like a possession."
"Ashen.." Alara calls, dragging the last letter. She takes my hand in her and squeezes it softly. "I'm not treating you like a possession. I just care so much about you and I don't want pests hovering around you."
"Lyara's not a pest," I snap before I can stop my self and her expression shifts to surprise, then her eyes misty.
"You're loud," she folds her arms and turns away like a sulking child.
I scratch the back of my head. Wondering what I did to become a babysitter now. She stays like that, back to me and her shoulders moving side ways. This isn't going to end, so I might as well apologize for being me. For being Ashen Drelhart. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been loud."
She immediately turns to me, her smile returning. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it. Come on," she says again and I go I don't think I have much of a choice anyways.
**************
The castle gates open wide for us, and I'm hit with a wave of sound and scent, music, laughter, roasted meat, spiced wine, perfume too sweet for the air. It's a grand celebration, all shinny and glittering.
Rich people parade in silks, jewels gliding through the courtyard like they belong to another world. Tables are overflow with fruits I've only seen in books and meat that makes my stomach twist with both hunger and nerves.
Before I can take any of it in, servants approach. Alara whispers something to them, and they nod, bow, and usher me away. I follow, my heart hammering in my chest. They take me down polished halls, past rooms glowing with candlelight, into a space that smells of lavender and fresh linen. I'm given a clean bath, the warm water almost burning my skin at first. Hands scrub my arms, my back, my hair. I want to protest, but I don't. I just sit there in silence, letting the steam clear my head. After that, they dress me in a fine dark trousers, a soft cream tunic embroidered at the collar, a vest that fits like it was sewn just for me. My hair is brushed back and tied at the base. When they finally step away, one of them hands me a mirror.
As I stare into it, I barely recognize the boy staring back. That's not an orphan. That's not Ashen. That's someone else.
The doors open and Alara walks in. She stops mid-step, her breath catching. Her eyes go wide and her lips part in a stunned smile. "Ashen," she whispers. "You look…"
She doesn't finish. Instead, she runs to me and wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I freeze, unsure where to put my hands. She pulls back and places her palms on my shoulders, her eyes searching mine. "You're so handsome," she says, grinning like a child at a festival. "I knew you would be. You clean up better than anyone I know."
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. "Come on," she says, grabbing my hand. "He's waiting."
"He?"
"My father," she says, like it should be obvious. "You're going to meet him now."
I blink, my stomach turning cold. All my life I've avoided meetings like this. People of class, the rich, the lords. I don't even show up when they pay a visit to the orphanage. I'm always in my peaceful zone. Watcher's Rise.
Today, Alara's taking me to meet her father. The Overseer. The man I speak down on and blame for the problems in Viremont. The heavens know I'm not ready for this. Worse part is, I might never be ready for this.
I stand before the two grand doors, my heart pounding heavily in my chest I'm scared someone would hear it. Alara giggles by my side, waving at daughters of Lords and ladies. I look at them. One glance but it's enough to remind me that this isn't my world or place and I'm only important because Alara is holding onto me.