Page 36 of Unravelled
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By mid-afternoon when Mira woke, the palace hummed with its usual business. Soft footsteps echoing along the corridors, silks brushing against stone, voices low and measured behind arched doors.Mira stepped into the great hall chin lifted, her dress gathered neatly at the waist by her apron. No one would guess she had been out all night. No one would see the worry still coiled at the base of her throat.
Across the room, Harwen waited near the eastern archway, her hair freshly braided, her apron a more formal wrap of pale blue linen. She looked every inch the perfect attendant. Calm, organised and collected.
“Hello Mira,” she said softly, stepping closer. “I hoped they’d pair us for the lantern placement.”
Mira gave her asmile. “You don’t think I’d let you place the lanterns crooked on your own, do you?” she joked, though she felt her eyes lingered a little too long, trying to hide the fear still clinging to her.
Harwen huffed a quiet laugh. “I heard they are only crooked because you tie the strings too short. Which is why I'm doing the tying today,” Harwen declared cheerfully. “You'll do the placing. Teamwork.”
They retrieved the four wicker baskets, brimming with carefully packed lanterns, small glass bowls of oil, reed floats, and silk cords already trimmed to length. The halls had become quieter, most courtiers and attendants wrapped in pre-festival duties or final preparations, leaving the gardens and balconies theirs for the afternoon.
The sun had dipped low in the sky by the time they made it out into the open air. Golden light dapplingthrough the gardens and catching the fine threads woven into the lantern silks. The fountains trickled quietly, and bees hovered near the star-vinehedges. To Mira, it felt like one of those lazy summer afternoons that might stretch on forever, just as the summer began slipping away, soft and slow.
“I’ve decided I’m going to catch one this year,” Harwen announced as she knelt beside the reflecting pool. She was arranging a trio of lanterns along its edge. “After they’re released. I’ve been practicing my timing.”
Mira arched a brow and paused, tying a cord around a hook. “You know they’re designed to float away, right?”
“Which is exactly why it’s impressive,” Harwen said smugly. “I almost had one last year.”
Mira paused, she watched Harwen tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear, her face lit with excitement and determination. It was rare to see that kind of joy in anyone lately.
“You would get a request of the Navigators if you did. What would you wish for?” Mira asked gently.
Harwen didn’t answer right away. Her hands were steady as she placed another lantern at the edge of the path, fingers brushing the delicate sides with care. She sat back on her heels, eyes drifting toward the open expanse of the garden.
“For someone to listen to my village,” she said at last. Mira stilled. Harwen didn’t meet her gaze, not at first. Her voice remained soft, even. “They send requests. Petitions. One after the other. Shortages. Sea rot. And the council sends back scrolls full of reasons. Policies. Delays.” She looked up then, and her eyes met Mira’s with a quiet smile, bittersweet. “So if I catch one, that’s my wish. We just need someone to listen.” Mira nodded back.
They didn’t speak for a while after that. The wind shifted gently, tugging at their hair, ruffling the corners of their sleeves. Together, they worked steadily through the rest of the garden, placing each lantern with quiet precision. Some were strung from the arching iron hooks above the flower beds. Others were placed on reed floats, ready for the evening release. The air grew slightly colder, golden with the slanting light of afternoon.
When the last lantern was set, Harwen stepped back and wiped her hands on her skirt. “That’s all of them,” she exclaimed, satisfied.
Mira looked around, heart swelling with the beauty of the garden covered in lanterns. The palace felt transformed. Not just prepared, but hopeful.
“Thank you,” Harwen replied, voice quieter than before. “For listening.” Mira met her eyes. Harwen’s expression brightened again, cheeks a little pink from the wind and sun.
“I hope your wish finds its way to someone. Navigator or human.” she offered gently. There was a beat of silence between them. Mira gave a small nod, the kind that said she understood more than she would ever put into words.
“I need to change. If I show up to the release looking like a stable hand, Perrin will have a fit.” Harwen smiled before waving as she disappeared into the palace.
Mira turned and took in the gardens. Beyond the carefully tended flower beds and labyrinth of hedges, the land sloped gently upward toward the tahla tree on the hill. Its branches stretched wide and ancient. The tendrils of leaves swaying in the breeze like an old sentinel watching over the palace grounds.
It stood alone at the crest, its green-blue leaves caught the last of the sunlight, turning them into shimmering coins of light. Delicate blue blossoms clung to its boughs, their fragrance carried on the warm breeze. The scent tangled with something half-remembered, half-forgotten.
The trunk thick with age, knots twisting through its bark. Its branches stretched wide, as if trying to embrace the sky. Strong yet flexible. Built to endure, to bend but never break. A realization struck. Her crossbow. It was made of Tahla wood. She hadn’t been to the Tahla tree since…since...
The memory slipped away before she could grasp it. Mira lingered at the edge of the path, her fingers idly brushing her sleeves, eyes drifting over the tahla tree, the forgotten memory pressing against her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite hear.
"Lost in thought again, Mira?" That voicebroke her concentration. Smooth, warm, laced with lazy amusement. She didn’t turn immediately. She didn’t have to. Ren. A soft chuckle, the rustle of fabric as he stepped closer. “You get that unfocused look on your face.” Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear as he inhaled the subtle fragrance of her hair.
“Ren,” she started, but her voice wasn’t as sharp as she wanted it to be. Ren let out a hum of questioning, barely pulling back.
Mira exhaled slowly before stepping away and turning to face him. Ren stood in the center of the path, dressed in effortless finery. Midnight-blue waistcoat and pants, embroidered with faint gold constellations, an open collar dress shirt underneath, revealing the sharpness of his collarbones. His ever-present smirk played on his lips.
Steadying herself, "We’ve been over this, what happened in the library changed nothing." She meant for her voice to sound firm, final. But the words wavered. The memory lingered between them, pressing against the space she had tried to create. She could still feel the ghost of his almost touch, the way he had looked at her.
Ren’s expression darkened, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "You really think it didn't change anything?" Ren ducked his head to meet her eyes. His gaze locked onto hers, searching, relentless. "If you do, then why are you looking at me like that?" he asked softly, the words nearly a plea.
