Page 71 of Unravelled
He stepped closer. His eyes caught fire. The flames leapt to hers. She screamed, but the sound never reached her ears. Her lungs filled with smoke. The book snapped shut with a sound like thunder. The light fractured, and the ground gave way.
???
Grass beneath her fingers. Cold dew on her bare feet. Mira sat up with a sharp gasp and the dream shattering like glass around her. Her chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, her skin slick with sweat despite the chill in the air. Her lungs ached as she tried to draw a breath that didn’t taste of ash.
But there was no fire here. Only the garden. Wide and quiet. The soft hush of early dawn lay over it like a blanket, the trees touched with silver-blue light. The scent of wet earth and morning jasmine filled her lungs, and it steadied her, little by little. Her fingers clenched against the damp grass. Real. Cool. Alive. She was outside. The palace loomed behind her, cloaked in shadow.
She didn’t remember walking here. Her nightdress clung to her legs, soaked from the grass and sweat. Her hands trembled, but she could feel them now. Feel the tremor and not just the terror. Above, the sky stretched wide and velvet-dark, stitched with stars. The moon hung low, a silver arc caught between the palace spires.
Mira stood slowly, her knees unsteady, her breath still uneven. She crossed her arms around herself, holding the heat of her own skin. The silence wrapped around her like fog. But the garden was not empty. Queen Danlea sat alone beneath a tree, the branches clawing gently at the sky. She rested on a stone bench, posture relaxed but regal, a figure untouched by fear or night. A velvet cloak spilled around her, dark as the sky, its silver embroidery gleaming faintly in the starlight. She did not look over, but her voice drifted through the hush, calm and sure.
“You’ll catch your death, standing there like that.” Danlea turned slightly, lifting one side of her cloak and holding it open with a quiet invitation. “Come sit with me. There is enough warmth for two.”
Mira hesitated, her breath fogging in the air. But then her feet moved, slowly. She stepped into the clearing and lowered herself onto the bench.
The cloak fell around her shoulders, and it was warmer than she’d expected. The scent of orchids and old parchment wrapped around her. They sat in silence for a while, the hush between them filled only with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant coo of a morning bird somewhere in the trees. The palace behind them remained still, its looming shadow forgotten under the soft weight of dawn.
Danlea’s voice came again, low and level, but not unkind. “Do you need clarity?”
Mira’s fingers curled into the velvet. She stared at the crushed grass between her bare feet, the dew like cold silver threading over her skin. The words hovered just behind her teeth, sharp and trembling, begging to be released. But what if speakingthem made them real? What if, once they left her mouth, they couldn’t be taken back?
Mira swallowed, then said, almost too quietly, “I had a dream..."
Danlea gaze was still on the trees, on the pale streaks of light curling over the palace eaves.
“It was the altar chamber,” Mira said. Danlea turned her head a fraction. “But it wasn’t how I remember it. Everything was… wrong. Her voice dropped. “There was something waiting for me.” Mira looked down at her hands. “What if it wasn’t a dream? What if it was a memory? And if it was… ?” Then, gently, Danlea took Mira’s cheek and turned her face toward her, careful, deliberate, her milky eyes penetrating her soul.
“Why do you question your choices?”
Mira swallowed, her throat dry despite the cool air. The weight of that gaze made it impossible to lie, even to herself.
“Sometimes it feels like I’m not choosing at all,” she said. “Like I’m just… drifting. Pushed forward because I can’t remember why I started. Why I said yes. Why I would have.”
The Queen’s presence was a strange contradiction, calm and quiet, yet impossibly vast. There was no judgment in her voice, no pressure in her stillness. Only space. And in that space, Mira felt something soften in her chest. She realized, suddenly, how easy it was to speak with her.
Danlea didn’t look away. “Then trust who you are now,” she said softly. “Even if the past is unclear. Even if the reasons haven’t come back yet.”
Mira’s lip trembled. Danlea’s expression didn’t change, but her posture shifted. Her shoulders dipped slightly, a subtle uncoiling, as though she, too, had once known that feeling. The garden remained still, the hush of dawn stretching out between words like threads waiting to be woven.
“You don’t need every memory to know yourself,” Danlea said. “You’re still choosing. Every moment of who youare now.”
Mira closed her eyes. Let the words settle. Let the cloak hold her steady. And for the first time in what felt like days, she let herself lean. Just a little. Just enough to feel the warmth of another person beside her.
They walked back through the quiet corridors in silence, the hush of early morning pressing gently around them like fog. The palace had not fully woken yet, its torches dimmed and windows silvered with the last traces of dawn. Mira’s footstepswere soft against the stones, the hem of her damp nightdress catching slightly at her ankles.
Beside her, the Queen moved with quiet grace, the sweep of her cloak around Mira’s shoulders whispering with every step. Mira had been in awe that previous morning, intimidated, uncertain, every word she spoke measured twice. And yet now, walking in silence beside her, wrapped in the Queen’s warmth, she felt… safe. At ease. It confused her, this sudden comfort, this quiet trust blooming in the space between them. But she wasn’t ungrateful for it. Just unsure how something so soft had settled into her chest so quickly.
Danlea did not press her. She did not demand it. She simply walked, steady and unshaken, like someone who had already seen the road ahead and knew there was time.
They reached Danlea’s chambers just as the palace began to stir. Nerra was waiting inside, already at the small preparation table, laying out the wrap and herbal dish with practiced hands. She looked up as the door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the Queen beside Mira, but she dipped her head without question. Danlea stepped aside, allowing Mira to cross the room.
Together, they finished the ritual in silence. Mira lifted the softened cloth, infused with the crushed herbs nand oils and Nerra gently guided the Queen to sit. With deft, careful fingers, Mira wrapped the veil over Danlea’s eyes, letting the scent of sage and ashwood bloom gently through the air.
Danlea leaned back slightly. “You are learning, both of you. You needn't judge yourselves so harshly. ” she said softly. Mira felt those simple words settle inside her like warmth in her chest.
“I’ll leave you to rest,” she murmured.
Nerra stepped forward before Mira could gather the cloth. “I’ll clean up,” she offered, her voice quiet but steady.
