The Archshade

Twenty-Eight

Encircled by guards, I draw glances and whispers from the nobles and dignitaries as I step back into the palace. The heat prickling at the base of my spine forces my gaze to my feet. Every rumor these nobles can think of will be nowhere near as outrageous as the truth, and as I enter the foyer of the Arcadian palace, I can't help but wonder if I might be safer outside its walls.

In the entrance hall, the guards give me brisque bows then file out towards the barracks. The leader of the guards lingers, fixing me with a suspicious stare, but soon even he marches away, leaving me on my own. The heat of whispers and stares forces my feet to begin walking before I even fully know where I'm going. I have no desire to return to Daynar's chambers and run the risk of finding him there. I need time to think—time to weigh the truth before I confront him.

I tear the black robe from my shoulders and gather it into a bundle, holding it against my chest. This is all so confusing, but... it shouldn't be. Baden's here now. Just outside these walls, he's plotting and planning for us to escape. That's what I want... isn't it? I frown at my feet as I head through the palace corridors, wandering aimlessly.

If I tell Daynar of our plans, will he help? Will he forbid me from leaving? Will he arrest us? No... he wouldn't. At least, I don't think he would. I angrily huff at my indecision. What should I do? Should I do anything? Should I just wait...?

As I wander through the palace, choosing one less populated hallway after another, the white marble corridors eventually grow deserted. I pass down a hall of windows, walking through the dappled pools of late morning sun as the rays spill onto the stone floor. The freedom from prying eyes eases my agitation, but the silence filling the cavernous halls only encourages the buzzing indecision in my head.

In the middle of cursing the silence for its betrayal, a faint sound reaches my ears—a muffled, stuttering sob. Padding softly down the hall, I follow the muted cries to a small alcove beside a window overlooking the city.

"Tali?"

At the sound of my voice, she whips around, her maang tikka swinging wildly above her furrowed brow and violent glare.

"What?!" she hisses.

Caught off guard by her appearance, I hesitate before answering. The smudged kajal gives the dark shadows under her eyes a sinister hue that's made all the more prominent by the deep purple bruise under her right eye. Her lip is split, and there's another cut along her cheek, but the blood has crusted over. As she glowers at me, she pulls her thick, cotton shawl tighter around her shoulders. It's a plain garment, but beneath it, she wears an extravagant nightdress. Even for sleeping clothes, it's an intricate dress—all elegant embroidery swirling over a pearlescent fabric clinging to her chest and flowing over her hips. Yet, as I look closer, disturbing details reveal themselves.

The edge of a jagged tear slips out from beneath her shawl, betraying a vicious slash near her collar bone towards her left sleeve. At the back, the hem of her dress is also torn as if someone stepped on it. On both the nightdress and the shawl, small brown splotches may initially escape notice, but I've seen enough blood to know what it looks like dried.

"Are you hurt?" I whisper.

An angry tear slips from her eye, gathering at her chin with the others. "Go away!" Her snarl is guttural, more the snarl of an animal than a woman.

"I-I can fetch a healer or some medicine," I stammer. I brace for another snarl or even a yell, but Tali just deflates beneath my question.

"Just forget it. There is nothing to be done." She sighs and turns away from me, placing her chin on the windowsill as if she no longer has the strength to hold up her head.