Chapter 5: Reading

The fact that Carrad’s hair matched mine and Kalim’s was nothing in comparison to the sudden… connection to him. As though I’d known him my entire life. I tried in vain to find any memories connected to him without making myself sick again. He seemed to register the recognition in my eyes, but said nothing about it. Instead he studied me for a moment, as though trying to figure out what the best approach to talking to me would be.

“Elsa,” he finally started. Calmly. Gently. “If you can, I’d like you to tell me all that you remember.” I stiffened for a moment, scared. If remembering that had made me black out for an entire day… did I really want to do that again? But Kalim and Carrad were both counting on me. And I had this sudden need to make Carrad proud of me. After a moment, I took a deep breath.

“I remember… I remember my mum and dad. It was my little brother’s birthday. Aden. His name is Aden.” Names seemed more important than anything to me right now. “And then… my room. My room and a picture of me and a girl… and then suddenly I was on a beach when I was really little.” This memory came much easier than the others. “Crystal-white sand, peaceful waves… I was playing in them. The waves, I mean. And someone… someone was calling to me. Someone I knew. Know. Someone I know. And they pulled me up onto their back, and then… then Kalim stopped me. And I woke up here.”

Silence followed my words for a while. Kalim had stood somewhere while I was recalling what I’d seen and was now standing behind his father’s chair. Though for some reason, I felt that they weren’t related. They looked nothing alike, besides their hair color. Their face shapes were too different; their eyes didn’t share the same color. Nothing about them suggested they were father and son. He stood with his hands on Carrad’s shoulders -- half restraining, half just letting him know that he was there. It seemed an eternity before anyone spoke up.

“You didn’t mention the physical change you saw in me,” Kalim mentioned. I sputtered for a moment, not thinking he’d bring it up.

“His hair. Yours too. It’s red. I… I remember it being blond…” I wasn’t sure how to justify my words, and I came off sounding like I’d gone mad. Then again, with all that had happened and the fact I believed myself to be in the land of the Fae in the first place, I guessed hair changing color wouldn’t be the first sign of madness. Carrad wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this news at first. Kalim leaned down and whispered something into his ear, which seemed a satisfactory answer to the older man. Part of me wanted to demand what was said, but the other part of me -- the shy, more polite part -- kept me from asking.

“Elsa,” Carrad said slowly, “this isn’t going to be pleasant I’m sure, but it’d really be best that you try and remember everything you can as quickly as your health will allow.” I shuddered, reluctant but understanding why I needed to do it. I nodded after a moment.

“I’ll… do my best,” I replied, and he nodded in return.

“That’s all we can ask of you. Thank you.” He stood, gave me one last look-over, and headed for the door.

“I will remember,” I promised suddenly. The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. I just had to make him proud of me. I had to show him I was useful; that I could do something right. He turned, startled by how sudden I’d spoken. Then he gave me a gentle smile.

“I’m sure you will,” he said warmly before heading back to his office.

Kalim still stood behind the chair Carrad had been sitting in. From time to time he’d study me like he wanted to say something. Ask something. Just as he opened his mouth again, there was a very soft knock on the door.

“Enter,” he said automatically, then made a face like he wished he hadn’t. Abin opened the door and walked in with her cart of remedies. Had it always been a pale blue? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t keep my mind concentrated long enough. Abin was looking better though. She was less pale, and her look of determination was back on her face. She picked up a cup of her warm herbal brew and presented it to me, unsure if I was well enough to drink it myself. I nodded and lifted my hands to take it from her. I made a face as I drank it. She fussed over her cart for a few moments longer, hurriedly put her hand on my forehead, looked me over, and turned her back on me again.

“Abin,” Kalim tried to interrupt her, visibly not enjoying the sudden movements.

“I’ll only be a moment, Master,” she babbled, “I just need to check on a few things before I can leave her be. She doesn’t seem to be running a fever but she’s showing signs of --”

“Abin.”

“-- I'm not entirely sure if I’m correct or not, but I have a few remedies ready just in case and if worse comes to worst I can begin healing again --”

“Abin.”

“No really, I’ll only be a moment longer, and then --”

“Abin.” I was too busy watching her frantic movements to realize that at some point he had moved around to her side of the bed. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and her eyes unfocused. It was clear she was somewhere far away. Her hands and arms relaxed, the creases of worry in her forehead vanished. After a moment, Kalim removed his hand from her shoulder and regarded her evenly. “She’s going to be fine. If she needs anything, we’ll come get you first. On my words I mean this true.” His last line seemed some sort of pact or vow; the words were ancient and important. She looked at him for a moment before nodding. With a moment’s hesitation, she left her cart beside the bed and made her way through the door.

Suddenly a very uncomfortable silence descended on the room. I picked up a book off of the stack on the floor that had steadily grown and opened to the page I’d dog-eared.

“Would you read to me?” he asked abruptly. I must have given him quite a confused look because he gave me a half-laugh. He almost sounded nervous. “I had a friend when I was little who used to read to me a lot. She went away a while ago, and no one reads to me anymore. I like reading myself, but it’s different when you hear someone read out loud.” I considered this a moment. I couldn’t remember a time someone had read to me, though I was sure someone must have at a point.

“I’m in the middle of the book,” I warned. He pulled one of the chairs up next to the bed, now leaning against the wall rather than looking straight at me.

“I don’t mind. I’ve read that one before. What just happened?” He settled into the chair, composing himself neatly. He could have been a model for an artist to paint or sculpt. I was suddenly very aware of the fact I hadn’t taken proper care of myself in maybe weeks. Not that it would have mattered; he was prettier than me on a normal day. It seemed that with my memories, new emotions were surfacing, and jealousy was one of them.

“Merd just finished her conversation with The Great Kahn and is on her way back home,” I answered, trying not to let on how threatened I was feeling by his appearance. He closed his eyes and grinned, waiting. I sighed and began reading. It was an odd sensation, reading aloud. Especially to a party that didn’t respond at all to the words I was saying, though I could hear in my own voice the reactions I had to reading what was written. At one point I stopped altogether, wondering if he was asleep.

“Why did you stop?” he asked after realizing I wasn’t going on. He trained his eyes on me pleadingly.

“I’m tired, and a little hungry.” It wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I realized it wasn’t a lie. He pulled the rope near the door, but he looked reluctant to leave. “I’ll read more to you tomorrow, or whenever I wake up, or whatever,” I promised. He seemed to like that answer; he smiled, a smile that reminded me of a little kid when you told them something they really wanted to hear.

“You swear?” He asked, and his voice held something besides just hope for the books. He was hoping for something else, too.

“On my words, I mean it true,” I responded exasperatedly. It took me a moment to realize that I’d never said that phrase before, but it felt familiar in my mouth. And it felt stronger than any promise I’d ever made. He smiled again, but this time it was more of a satisfied, ‘something is beginning’ smile. It was confident but relieved at the same time.

He closed the door behind him, leaving me confused by my own words.

Author's Note

For some reason the formatting changed, and I'm unable to get it back to normal. Sorry for that.