Page 38 of Dark Island: Rescue
"Of course," Tamira said while narrowing her eyes at Tula. "I'll pile it up."
"Thank you." Tula turned toward the door.
Sarah stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Are you feeling alright?" she said quietly. "You look pale."
"I'm just tired." Tula managed a reassuring smile. "I keep having strange dreams that wake me up at night."
That, at least, was true.
"Dreams?" Liliat perked up. "What kind of dreams?"
"Nothing interesting. Memories from childhood are surfacing for some reason. You know how dreams are—everything jumbled together in ways that make no sense."
"I had a dream once that I was flying," Beulah said. "Over the ocean, like a bird. It felt so real I was disappointed when I woke up."
As the others launched into a discussion of memorable dreams, Tula slipped out the door.
When she reached her suite, she drew the heavy curtains closed, eliminating the artificial sunlight that illuminated the interior courtyard, trying to emulate daylight.
The bed was neatly made, not by her but by the maid, and it was a shame to mess it up, but Tula kicked off her slippers anyway, pulled back the covers, and then paused. Should she change into nightclothes? Nah. Her dress was clean, and it was comfortable. There was no reason to bother with a nightgown just for a short nap.
She lay down fully clothed, pulling just the top sheet over herself. The pillow was soft, the mattress comfortable, but sleep felt impossibly distant. Her mind was on Areana's talk with Annani tomorrow, with Tamira's accusations, and with the constant feeling that the walls were closing in on her and that soon Navuh would find out that she was pregnant and she would be watched even more than she was now.
Think of something else. Something calming.
She closed her eyes and deliberately called up memories from childhood, before everything had shattered, before the world as she'd known it had ceased to exist. Her mother's singing, her father's long-suffering expressions. The way their small house smelled of freshly baked bread in the morning.
Happy memories.
Playing with the carved animals her father made for her. Her mother braiding her hair. Gulan mending her torn dress with tiny, perfect stitches before their mother noticed that she'd added another tear to it.
And then, inevitably, memories of the palace. Following Gulan through those massive doors, overwhelmed by the grandeur. Meeting Princess Annani, who had immediately made Tula feel welcome, made her feel like a friend, a confidant.
"Tula!" Annani had exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. "You're perfect! Exactly my size!"
Annani was tiny, the size of the twelve-year-old Tula, which made Tula the perfect dummy to curl up in Annani's bed and pretend to be the sleeping princess while Annani snuck out on adventures with Gulan. The right size to hide in small spaces and eavesdrop on conversations. The right size to be useful.
Every little service had been rewarded generously—a bracelet here, earrings there. Always with a wink and a finger to her lips. "Our secret, sprite."
Gulan had always tried to return the gifts because they had been too much for the services rendered, but Annani refused to take them back.
The memories grew softer, hazier, bleeding into eachother as sleep finally began to claim Tula. The palace corridors became longer, wider, until she was walking through them not as a child but as she was now, a grown woman, pregnant and desperate to provide her child with a better fate than that which awaited him here.
The dream solidified around her.
She stood in Annani's room, but it was both exactly as she remembered and completely different. The walls shimmered between past and present, the furniture shifting styles every time she looked away. Annani sat at her vanity, but when she turned, her face kept changing, not her features, just her expression. Sometimes she was the young princess Tula remembered, full of spirit and hope for the future, and sometimes she was older, wiser, sadder.
"I have something for you," dream-Annani said, holding out a bracelet.
It was gold, delicate, with tiny bells that chimed when they moved. Tula remembered that exact moment. It was payment for once again taking Annani's place in her bed, pretending to be the sleeping princess.
"We can't take it," Gulan said.
Dream-Tula held on to the bracelet with greedy fingers. She had no intentions of giving it back.
"It's too much," Gulan said.
"I have one for you as well." Annani tossed her another bracelet, which Gulan caught with ease.
