Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Fifty Nine: The Village

It was a week of monotonous travelling before they saw a settlement.

Not that Nova minded monotony. She was well-used to it — so used to it that it was welcome just to be living out the same day with changing scenery. It was only in the past year that her life had changed from the endless cycle of Harkenn's study, the cage beneath his bedchamber, the kitchen hearth, and the Assembly Hall. Even if the routines were all the same, at every stopping point the world looked a little different around them. She wasn't sure she could have handled anything more.

Her panic attacks had become less frequent, but anxiety still haunted her nights. She couldn't help watching the road recede behind them for a cloud of dust signalling her impending recapture. Despite their circumstances, she couldn't help clinging harder to Grace. She had become familiar over the months. She was the only constant Nova welcomed.

Though not unchanging. Neither of them had said it, but both of them had noticed Grace's breasts had grown and were often sore, that she had to pee constantly, that she was still sick and nauseous most mornings and sometimes evenings too. It felt too volatile a thing to bring back out into the open after they'd found an uneasy peace. Nika said nothing when treating Grace's aches and soreness, as if he sensed it would be unhelpful, but Nova could see his concern growing each day. Even Thorne was antsy, often seeming confused and irritable when he dropped in to eat dinner with them, as if he sensed something was different but couldn't put a finger on what.

Travelling with the Unspoken, though, had been a more pleasant experience than she had anticipated. Used to being social outcasts and coming from all walks of life, they thought nothing of the fact that she was disgraced Caelumese royalty, an ex-slave, or that she dressed like a soldier. Scars were an everyday reality for them. She was used to the way people set her apart, but it hadn't been so apparent before travelling with people who accepted her just as she came. There was a palpable difference in attitude when she strayed into non-Gifted circles; they were far warier of her. No one wanted to mess with Harkenn's personal slave, but they didn't respect her as her own person, either. It was easier to stay with the Unspoken, moving each night to whichever fire welcomed them; often Cara's, and also the fire that Thorne shared with Nika and a couple of his friends.

More than friends, in some cases, she thought, as the party slowed and she spotted Thorne and Astra ahead, walking side by side with their hands almost touching. No other Unspoken used tents; their newfound closeness was a secret to no one, but Nova sensed more to it in their auras, a strange mingling as if they'd grown closer than just a physical sense.

"Oh thank god," Grace murmured beside her in the wagon, massaging her lower back as rooftops and chimneys came into view over the rise. The landscape had gradually shifted from wide grassy plains into a scattering of fields and orchards as they left the cradle of the mountain range around the Reach, but this was the first settlement they'd seen beyond the odd isolated homestead. "I would kill for a hot bath tonight."

"Is it bad?" Nova asked.

"Just stomach-ache." Grace's tone turned faintly evasive. She wasn't quite lying.

"There's no point sparing my feelings," Nova said, and when Grace flinched she realised that had come out harsher than she'd meant it.

"I'm just bloated," Grace said with a shrug. "It's uncomfortable. And everything hurts from being sick."

"Have you told Nika?"

Grace smiled at her. "Yes, Nova."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you're cute when you're worried."

Nova wrinkled her nose, which only prompted Grace to laugh.