Alisiyad Chapter 16 ~ Rag Doll

Liseli looked down at her dress ruefully as she stumbled along the path.  There were grass stains on it, and it was wrinkled.  She walked crooked, blinking as she came out into the light.  Her ears felt like they were full of water.  The people paid no attention to her as she passed them; she paid no attention to them.  She wanted to know where Russ was, suddenly it was very important to know where he was.  He was in danger and he didn’t know it.  Alisiya was planning on doing something to him . . . where was he?

She fought down a rise of panic and told herself not to be silly.  Alisiya had wanted her to think over things, so of course nothing was going to happen right away.  But soon.  I hate that smug little bitch.  The thought leapt to her mind with sudden vehemence before she closed her eyes and took a breath to steady herself.  Who was that Child to tell her what she wanted, and what her destiny was?  Nobody.  Nothing.  No one.  Her head pounded dully, but she didn’t feel the pain anymore, just a numbing thudthudthud.

Finally she caught sight of him; he was standing under the balcony, near the edge.  She moved toward him slowly like she was walking through eddies along a shore.  He saw her coming, and met her halfway.

“Hey.  I . . . oh hey . . . whoa . . . have you been crying again?”  He spoke slowly as his eyes traveled over her disheveled appearance.

“No.”  She swiped at her cheek, feeling a grass blade fall from it.

“You have.”  He sounded disappointed.  “You’re all smeared up and . . . were you on the ground?”  As he talked he pulled his sleeve down over his hand and started to wipe at her face like she was a little girl.

“Yeah.  I was lying on the ground crying my little heart out because I was so embarrassed,” Liseli said, tilting her face up so he could clean it.

“Are you joking?”

“Yes.”

He paused.  “You don’t look like you’re joking.”

She sighed.  She felt rattled, spent, and dizzy.  She didn’t want to talk about it.  What was there to say?  He’d probably misunderstand and accuse her of being out to kill him.  “I tripped over a tree root and hurt myself.  I messed up the dress, too.”

“It looks okay.  Are you okay?”

“Mm.”  She shrugged.  So-so.

“Are you still mad?”

“No.  It’s no big deal.”

He paused, looking at her in doubt.  “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged a little, then smiled.  “Well . . . okay, good.”  He left go of his sleeve and lowered his hand, but she kept her face titled toward him, so he bent down and kissed her.  She leaned into him for a moment, but then quickly drew away.

“Russ . . . .  Your breath reeks.  What did you do?”  She sniffed.

“Oh.”  He lifted a hand into front of his mouth, smiling apologetically.  “I had a drink.  Can you tell?”

He was wavering where he stood, and he speech had been a kind of slow and distant the whole time.  But she hadn’t really noticed, because she felt the same way.  In a fog.  She frowned.  “Early for drinking, Russ.”

“I know.  I only had a couple swallows.  It was Currun’s brain killing special,” Russ said, resting his hands on her shoulders.  His smile brightened.  “I found out stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Well . . . I don’t remember it all.  But I think the King here might want to kill us.”

“Oh.”  She paused, thinking.  Then she nodded.  “I think so too, maybe.  Do you know why?”

“It has something to do with the River.”

“Prophecy?”

“Yeah.”  He looked disappointed.  “How’d you know?”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his hands.  “Mm . . . Eliasha told me.”  She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to lie to him about it, but she couldn’t help it.  She didn’t want to tell him.  “Look, let’s not worry about that right now.  When does the play start?”

“I don’t know.  This afternoon.”

“Okay.”  She began to walk her fingers up his arms, and he looked down uncertainly.  She took a breath and cocked her head to the side.  “Let’s go inside for a while.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”  She took his hands from her shoulders and pulled him toward the stairs.  “Come on.”

“I’ve been drinking,” he said with suspicion, but didn’t resist.

“I don’t care,” she lifted one shoulder.  “I want you . . .  right now . . . silly.”

He smiled self-consciously and looked down.  “Ah . . . yeah . . . I just think I might have passed out over there and not woken up yet.”

She pinched the palm of his right hand.

“Ow, hey.”  He winced.  “Alright.  No, wait a minute.  You have to eat something first.”

“No.”

“I mean it.”  He stopped, digging his heels in.  “I want you to eat.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Russ.”

He laughed.  “You’re telling me what to do.”

“I . . . oooh.  Russ, I have a headache, don’t cross me.”  She frowned and tugged on his arm.  Her head didn’t really hurt, not anymore, but he didn’t have to know that.

“You have a headache because you haven’t eaten anything,” he shot back.

She dropped his hands and crossed her arms.  “Fine.  What do you want me to eat?”

He took a step back.  “I’ll go get something.  You go up to my room and I’ll bring it to you.  Promise me you’ll eat it.”

“Russ—”

“Promise.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Alright.”

“Say it.”

“I promise.”

He kissed her cheek and turned around, jogging unsteadily back toward the pavilion.  She realized a moment too late how it would look: “Oh hey, I’m just getting some food for Liseli, she’s going to eat it in bed and then we’re going to have sex.  What time does the play start, by the way?”  She wanted to call him back, but didn’t want to yell.  So she turned and stomped toward the stairs, shaking her head.  Him and his stupid food. . . .  Sometimes he can be so clueless.

Liseli went into the bedroom and took off her sandals, dress, and necklace, then crawled into bed.  By the time Russ arrived with the food she was sound asleep.

They spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon in the bedroom, by themselves.

Russ told Liseli about his conversation with Currun, and about what he’d seen in the little ivy covered building the day before.  She wondered why the building hadn’t been locked yesterday.  But that wasn’t important; what was more important to her was the story of how Byzauki and Ilia died, even after Alisiya promised them that they were the ones.  She didn’t like that.  Alisiya had promised her things . . . not that she’d really believed her at all at any time . . . no . . . .

“Currun seemed pretty cut up about his sister, he blames Leeton and I think that’s why they were trying to use Eliasha’s parents to fight him,” Russ said, as they lay in bed.

“You think that’s why they brought us here?”

“Makes sense.”

“I don’t like it.  They could’ve told us if they wanted us to get involved.”

“Maybe it’s different this time.”

“How?”

“I dunno.  Maybe they’re trying to decide if we’re . . . impostors.  That’s what Currun called it.”

“I still don’t like it.”

He agreed, but they still didn’t know what to do about it.  They couldn’t just leave — where would they go?  At least here they were being fed and housed and treated like respected guests.  Out there, alone, they had been wandering in the wilderness.  The possibility that the Erykumyn expected something dangerous and grandiose in return for their hospitality was worrying, but that was only a guess.  What was certain was that they were trapped somewhere far from anything they knew.  This wasn’t home.  They were well aware of that.

She never did tell him about Alisiya, though.  She felt as though she should, but every time she was about to, something held her back.  Everything to do with the Child felt like a bad dream, the kind of dream you didn’t want to tell anyone about if they’d been in it.  Nothing could happen to Russ unless she let it, though . . . isn’t that what Alisiya had said?  So what good would it do to tell him about it?  It wasn’t like it put him in any more or less danger . . . .

Liseli did let herself wonder, at one point, as she watched Russ sleep and absently brushed her fingers through his hair, what it would be like to be completely “free” of him.  Ever since she’d met him he’d been taking up her thoughts; whether she was happy with him or mad at him, thought she loved him or hated him, he was still constantly there.  It was like an obsession, really.  Surely that’s what Alisiya was referring to with all that talk of freeing her mind and clearing her senses.

Maybe it wasn’t healthy to be so wrapped up in another person.  It was confusing and troublesome when she thought about it that way. . . .  All she really knew for sure was that the idea of no more Russ — no more Russ at all — made her feel sad, and scared, and very, very alone.