The Broken Crown

Chapter 33

Asha

Asha wondered if spirits actually did help when you were in pain. Everybody else had had their cups filled, and refilled, and refilled again. She knew she was old enough that no one would question her, they might even understand. But every time she thought of crossing into the circle of light from the fire, she saw Thomas and how his life was controlled by the drinks he had, how he was consumed by the spirits rather than them consumed by him. He was a good man, a much better person than she was, but he was held back.

So there she sat back, alone, sipping from her tea. Above her, she could hear the rain pouring down onto the terrace above her. Somewhere where she sat, leaning against a wooden pillar, there was a leak. Every now and then, a drop of water would drip into the wet soil.

“Kahari,” someone greeted her. At first, she did not react. She had yet to get used to that name. When she finally looked up she found Equem leaning over her. His body took up her vision and shadowed for the fire behind him.

“Yes, Equem?”

“I am so very sorry for your loss.” He sat down, his knees in the height of his broad chest, his arms resting on them.

“So you’ve said.” She was tired of people being sorry for her. Was it not enough that she was sorry all the time? She tugged her own knees closer to her chest.

“Aren’t you cold?”

 She was, actually, and drenched wet, but she liked that. She liked feeling. “No.”

 He swallowed, putting one hand on her knee. “Very well then.” He rubbed it gently before standing up. “You know you can always come to me, don’t you?”

She nodded; she knew. In fact, she could not forget. He had saved her what seemed like an eternity ago, when she was nothing but a helpless little child. She was not a helpless little child anymore, and she did not need his help.

 He left her wordlessly. Those who had collected around the table were looking at her anxiously, surely worried for their Kahari. Asha had always looked forward to this day, never thinking that it would mean the old Kahari, her father in every sense of the word, would be gone. She let her head fall forward against her knees. When she looked up, a good while later, her eyes were brimmed with red and she was no longer alone.

 Anaïs smiled kindly. “Asha?”

 Her voice was as kind as her smile. Asha had never liked her particularly, not until this day. She saw a pain in the eyes of the woman who had been her father’s lover, a pain that she recognized. Now that she knew the North, she could only imagine the terrors that Anaïs had been forced to face while working as a serving girl.

 "Asha, are you alright?”

 She nodded. “I’m alright.”

 “Good,” Anaïs whispered. “I brought some food for you.”

 The pale hand that was reached out to her was full of bread. Gratefully, she took it and chewed on it. The very second the food entered her mouth, she wanted to throw up but she forced it down. “Thank you.”

 “Eat it,” Anaïs told her. “It’s good for you.”

 “I’m not that hungry.”

 “I know.”

 Asha smiled a small smile and held the bread to her mouth for a few seconds before finally taking a bite. “It’s so strange.”

 “What is?”

 “Sadness,” she said. “I don’t know… This is the first time I’ve really… felt it.” When they had dragged her father’s body out, throat cut open, and begun throwing accusations here and there, Asha had cried. Of course she had. But after that… nothing. For five days, she had felt strangely numb. “What are they saying about me?” She nodded towards the group of people around the fire.