Page 82 of Unravelled
Mira sat up more fully, her gaze flicking between the two women. “How long have I?” she asked, her voice low, sharp at the edges.
“Long enough,” Perrin replied gently.
Mira’s jaw clenched. “You gave me something,” She swung her legs out from under her body, the sudden movement making her dizzy. “Without asking.”
Neither woman answered right away. Danlea’s eyes remained on the fire, unreadable.
“It was not to harm you, just to help you rest” Perrin said softly.
The silence that followed was thick, but not ashamed. Not apologetic. Danlea didn’t move.
Mira's eyes narrowed slightly. “How did you know I was here?”
“Your bonded called for me,” Perrin replied, her tone soft and sincere. "He was concerned about your sleepwalking."
Danlea gestured toward the washroom with a slight tilt of her head. There was no command in it, only understanding. An invitation. A moment to center. Mira rose, her limbs stiff, and made her way to the adjoining chamber.
Inside, warmth enveloped her. The soft scent of dried lavender and lemon balm hung in the air. Lamps flickered gently. As she lowered herself into the steaming bath, Mira let the water draw out the tension in her limbs. Her thoughts were quiet.
She considered the secrets she’d uncovered, the memories beginning to take shape, and the revelation that the truth she had once believed now fractured. Losing her memory had been as much a political maneuver as it had been an act of protection. Sarelle had taken them, not out of cruelty, but out of desperation. To protect Ren. But protect him from what?
When she emerged, a robe lay draped across the vanity. She slipped the plush fabric over her skin with deliberate care. Her reflection in the mirror, illuminated by the silver light.
A gentle knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, Perrin stepped inside without waiting, already holding a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Wordlessly, she crossed the room and set it down beside the combs and powder on the vanity.
“You have questions,” she said simply.
Mira gave a small nod, toward the cup, not Perrin.
“Will this one make me sleep too?” Her voice was calm, but there was steel threaded through it.
Danlea crossed the room and stood behind Mira, fingers already combing through her hair.
“Tonight marks a turning,” Danlea said softly, her fingers steady as she worked. Danlea’s hands never faltered. She began to gently curl Mira’s hair with steam and quiet reverence.
“What do you remember?” Danlea asked. "Of you moments that were hidden from you?"
Mira tensed under Danlea’s touch. Her guiding hands, the gentle positioning, it all made her feel managed, like a child dressed for ceremony she didn’t ask to attend. She nearly pulled away.
But Danlea’s presence was steady, unhurried. There was no force behind her actions, only care. A quiet rhythm that spoke of patience, of purpose. Like water smoothing stone. Mira’s breath eased.
“Fragments,” Mira whispered. “Like the dream of someone else’s life.”
Perrin stepped forward. “They’re yours. Memory doesn’t always return as a storm. Sometimes it comes like mist.”
Mira's gaze flicked to the mirror, her reflection watching back, wary and worn but not afraid.
Danlea picked up the porcelain cup and held it out. Mira took it but didn’t drink. "You can drink or not. One offers a clarity, the other shelter. But both carry cost."
Silence settled, soft as snowfall. Mira stared down at the cup, steam curling like breath into the air.
“I’m tired of being protected,” she said at last. “I want to know what I am being protected from.”
Danlea met her eyes in the mirror. “Then drink. Knowing that this is a choice freely made.”
Mira drank. The tea was hot and bitter, and she coughed once, the taste unfamiliar, grounding. She heard Perrin’s voice echo around the room. “It will open the way.”
Danlea’s eyes were clouded and pale, but deeper than sight. The room seemed to still, the air softening, shadows melting into stone.
