Under the Willow Root

Chapter 43

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." ― Edgar Allan Poe

"Pretty Girl, sit," I say firmly. She sits. "Speak! Good girl! Now, whisper."

Luca laughs as Pretty Girl utters a sort of closed-mouth cross between a bark and a whine--her "whisper."

"Very good," he applauds. "When did you teach her that?"

"We've been practicing," I say with a grin. "When she stays with me."

Pretty Girl has been alternating between staying with me and staying with Luca so that she doesn't feel completely abandoned when I have to leave. Mother Wenla was reluctant at first, but once Pretty Girl was completely house-trained, she relented. Now everyone loves her, especially my students. If they work hard during their lessons, I let them spend the last few minutes playing with her. They've been very productive lately.

Pretty Girl's discipline runs out and she leaps up to put her paws on my shoulders. She's eight months old now, and even more gangly and weird-looking than she was as a baby, but I love it. I melt every time I see her. I can tell she's going to be absolutely gorgeous in another few months. I just hope I'm still here to see it.

It's been six months since I first met with Bard and Caris. It's early spring, maybe April. I've been in this world just over two years. The waiting has been driving me insane, but at the same time I can't help dreading the day they tell me it's time to leave. It's exhausting. One minute I can't stand the thought of leaving, and the next I feel like if I don't get it over with, I'll die.

"Has there been any word?" Luca asks, like he can hear my thoughts. Or, more likely, he can see them on my face. "About...you know."

"It's getting closer," I say, rubbing Pretty Girl's ears. "But nothing specific. My...contacts will only tell me a little. All I know is that it will be before the fire festival."

"Little more than a moon," Luca says softly.

"Or sooner," I say, tears pricking my eyes. "I don't know how much notice they'll give me."

"Well, we'll just have to fit as much fun as we can into every day from now on," Luca says, forcing a smile. "Just in case. I wish you would let me take you riding."

"Definitely not," I say firmly. "No horses."

"They're perfectly safe," Luca insists, but without much force. It's an old argument.

I haven't exactly lied. I am afraid of horses. But I'm more afraid of running into Cimari at the stables. I know from my time as a slave that she's an avid rider. If things haven't changed since then, she spends a lot of time at the stables. I don't need Sadra to tell me that riding with Luca is a completely unacceptable risk.

"The City hall, then," he suggests. "There's a public sing tonight."

"Maybe," I say hesitantly, but the idea appeals.

I like to sing, even though I'm not that good at it. I've heard of the City's "sings," but I've never been to one. Huge groups of people come together to sing grand, massive chorales. I hear them sometimes from my room in the Temple. I think it would be nice to be a part of something like that.

"Maybe...yes?" Luca says, smiling hopefully.

"Alright," I laugh. "Yes."

"You do have a nice voice, you know," he tells me. "You just need to let it out."

"You have a nice voice," I disagree. "I sound like a mouse with a stuffy nose."

Luca laughs, then covers his mouth. "You do not."