My Pleasure, Darling

41: I am Tired (Can I Blame Felix?)

It's not my business to be sleeping in. Not when I'm a guest of a King. Although technically, if I'm considered Alexandria's guest, then I'm the guest of a princess. That kind of feels like splitting hairs. Either way, I feel bad for not getting up until ten.

On the flip side, of course, I did just battle with plague and, you know, death, so maybe I can get away with it. Just the once.

Waking up, I actually feel pretty good. Not great – but then I'm not sure I'll ever feel great again. I go through the motions of stripping off my clothes, of getting into the shower, getting fresh clothes, crumpled though they be, out of my bag. It feels strange to have this routine. As if I'm back in the barracks and nothing ever changed.

Everything has changed. I don't like it.

Melancholy doesn't suit me, so it's just as well I don't have a lot of time to punish myself. By the time I'm fresh and dressed and bandaged anew, there's a knock on my door, and before I can make my way through the small maze of rooms, there's another knock. Something inside me warms a little. There's only one person that anxious to see me.

"I wonder who that could be," I call out loudly, leaning up against the door, "knocking like that."

I half-expected her to laugh, but there's only a little whine, so I fling the door open to dissuade her anxieties. Alexandria steps in gingerly, and immediately attaches herself to what is luckily my good leg. I don't waste time in hugging her back.

"Good morning."

Queen Trysya is behind her, dressed casually in light jeans and a t-shirt. Like any normal woman might.

"Morning," the child at my feet smiles up. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"Andrea," her aunt interjects, "why don't you show Lois to the small kitchen? You can show her how we made breakfast."

I think it's a little weird that she's using the name Andrea. There's no need to hide her name, to assume a different identity for her, now that she is safe again.

Andrea looks up at me, pleased with herself. "We made pancakes."

"Pancakes? Now I am jealous."

"We left you some!" She grips my hand and begins tugging. I only just manage to put on shoes before she pulls me out of my room.

Trysya smiles at me. "We have a small kitchen where we can cook for ourselves without relying on chef. Mostly it's Simon who uses it. Turns out Andrea is quite the little chef herself."

I don't know how to react to this. Like I said. I'm not great with children. Now that the fear is over, now that I have no reason to do my best to keep Andrea quiet and passive, now that there is no danger to avoid, I am at a loss for what to say. Clearly the current topic of conversation is for Andrea's benefit, not mine, but I don't know how to participate in this kind of talk. Even though Andrea happily skips by my side, holding my hand tightly, like she's afraid to lose me.

It reminds me a little of that first morning she took my hand at the gas station. How unsure she was. Terrified to even ask for a little chocolate to calm her nerves. Now she is skipping around, pleased with herself as she leads me through a maze she has long since memorised.

I know this cannot be real. She will have to work through the trauma she has been through, the pain she has suffered. The skipping is just a façade. Maybe a façade to even herself, but it's still fake and I feel the weight of my empathy very heavily in my shoes.

"How are you, Lois? Recovery wise?"

"Very well, your majesty, thank you."

"Trysya. Please."