"I'll think of something," I promised. "But I'm going to need paper, Tobias. A lot of it, because my letter to Ayla is going to be long."
He nudged the bowl towards me again. "I'll say it's for your wedding list. Things you want in our suite. They'll laugh at me, but I'll remind them that I'm too dumb to know how to make it properly."
"But you aren't," I reminded him.
"I'm really not," he promised.
Sixty-Eight
Meri
The house was quiet at night. Too quiet.
In the compound, there was always some noise somewhere. As a girl, it had been Ayla and Callah turning in their sleep. Even breathing beside me made a noise that softened the silence. Sadly, not in Jeera's home.
Oh, every so often I could hear someone outside on the street, but that was rare. Occasionally, I'd heard sounds from the women's room. I was pretty sure what those were from, but I would never mention it. Such things were not discussed - at leastIdidn't know how to discuss them.
But sleeping was hard lately. Not because I wasn't tired. Oh, I felt like I could never quite rest as much as my body wanted. Instead, my problem was I could never get comfortable. Lying on my stomach was out of the question. The child was so large, my body couldn't even get into that position.
My side was better, but then this thing inside me began to move. Often, it would bounce or kick and make me need to pee. Tonight was one of those nights, but I didn't want to get up yet. I just wanted to lie here in the almost-darkness of real night where no one was listening or watching me.
"I don't know how to be a mother," I whispered to my stomach. "I know it's not your fault, but what if I mess you up? What if I make you into a monster because that's the only way I know how to be?"
The child inside me rolled again, making me groan with the intensity of it. Lessa had encouraged me to rant about Gideon. She'd listened to all of my stories, not even caring that they weren't in order. I'd screamed and wailed, getting all my anger out.
I hadn't cried.
The next day, she'd let me focus on the clothes. I'd told her I didn't want to talk about it that time, and she'd assured me we wouldn't. Instead, she'd run her handover my hair like a caress before clasping my shoulder and giving me the fabric I'd need to sew.
She was always doing that. Lessa had no shame about offering hugs, a hand, or even those little touches that somehow made me feel better. Ayla and Callah didn't do that, but I didn't blame them. We'd been raised that touching was improper. Only married couples should caress like that, but my husband hadn't.
He'd held me down. He'd backhanded me. He'd screamed in my face, shoved me against the wall, and ignored me otherwise. Once, a girl in sermon had held my hand like that. Mr. Cassidy had screamed at us for an hour about the sins of friendship, gossip, and the temptations of flesh. I hadn't really understood what he'd meant back then, but I was pretty sure I was starting to.
Because when I thought of Lessa, it wasn't at all the way I thought of Ayla. Ayla was my friend. She was someone I could rely on, trust, and who would always be there. Ayla was like what I thought a sister should be. We'd always joked that we were more of a family than our real families were, and it was true. She and Callah had been a constant that made me think there was always a reason to keep hoping.
But Lessa?
My lips curled into a smile as I thought about her. She was almost golden - all over! Supposedly, her scales were "sand"-colored, but her hair was the brightest blonde I'd ever seen, her eyes were like fresh honey - which was one of the many foods I liked a lot - and her skin was as smooth as the finest silk.
I hummed softly to myself. I had words for those things now. Honey, gold, silk. I also knew the difference between linen and cotton. I'd been learning the trick to sewing chiffon. I'd caressed velvet! I'd tasted chocolate on strawberries. All of those were things Lessa had shown me. Stupid little meaningless sensations that felt like they meant the world.
"I want to be like Lessa," I whispered to my stomach. "I want to be proud and sweet and unashamed."
Mostly, I wanted to be able to reach out and caress her hair the way she did mine. I wanted to hug her the way she always did with me, but my body didn't make that easy. I couldn't exactly stand behind her and wrap my arms around her shoulders because thisthingkept me from getting close enough.
I also wanted something more. Sometimes, when we talked, I found myself looking into her perfectly golden eyes and thinking about leaning in the way Jeera would with Brielle. That was silly, though. They were lovers. Not wives - or however it was said up here - but two people who had something. Jeera and Brielle had passion and romance. They touched the way I'd thought my husband would touch me, but he never had.
They were also gentle, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was what I longed for. For once in my life, I wanted someone to hold me softly.
Yet ever since I'd come here, all of my new friends had said the same thing - even Ayla. They'd told me I needed to decide whatIwanted. Lessa had said it more bluntly, which made it finally make sense. I needed to stop trying to bewhat I thought everyone wanted me to be and figure out which parts made me happy, and which parts were me simply seeking praise as a substitute for that happiness.
Sadly, I didn't know.
What I was sure of was that I could ask. Over and over, I'd said things that should've been stupid or rude. I'd been confused about stuff these people all took for granted. Not once had any of them shamed me for it. Not even the Wyvern.
The most feared man on the surface of the Earth had told me it was okay to be myself. He'd promised to protect me, and he wasn't the only one. That meant I didn't need to be strong or powerful, but did I want to be?
Not like Ayla. No, I'd be too scared to fight with men. I hadn't even been able to look at that boy without remembering everything Gideon had done! No, I wanted to be strong like Brielle. I wanted to be confident, mostly, but that would take time.