Chapter Seven - Alani

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The warden's heavy snores fill the air. Alani waits, counting each one. She stares at the mural painted against the wooden ceiling. The Great Goddess Gaia and the Great God Pontus stand together in an unfurling green meadow. Their likenesses are rendered in a colorful impressionistic style, the paint strokes soft and tender.

The mural is new. When Alani first moved into the warden's bedroom, there was a mural of Elch and Epiphagi and Chattan, along with Common Men. The flowers surrounding them were so beautiful and realistically rendered, Alani thought she might cry. It had been the first moment she'd wondered if perhaps things wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps this shallow, cadaver of a man she'd been forced to marry had a soft side after all.

She'd been wrong. And the mural had been painted over.

Alani counts to twenty. The warden hasn't ceased his consistent snoring, meaning he's most likely deeply asleep. Alani sighs, relaxing for the first time since entering the bedroom. She shifts her legs out from beneath the duvet and stands, carefully checking her foot placement so she doesn't touch the squeaky floorboard by accident. Hot water runs beneath the bedroom's wooden floorboards, and Alani gives herself a moment to relish in its warmth before tucking her feet into her slippers. Though her dressing room lies beyond the bedroom, Alani still treads carefully. She once woke the warden up in the middle of his sleep. She'll never make that mistake again.

There's a soft, cotton robe hanging on a hook and Alani pulls it down. Her Fate catches the light of a nearby torch, and Alani allows herself a brief look before slipping her arm into the sleeve. Mother. Despite that Fate, it seems as though Alani can't have children, which is both a blessing and curse. She would never want to bring the warden's children into this world. But, on the other hand, she had always hoped to have children of her own one day.

Sighing internally, Alani finishing tying the knot on the robe's belt. She adds a silk scarf and checks herself in the silver mirror to make sure it's fully covering her neck. Satisfied, Alani turns to her sewing kit. She's been working on a hat for the warden. She doesn't intend to finish it, but it's proven a decent excuse for injuries.

Alani picks up a sewing needle. She sucks in a breath, closes her eyes, and plunges the needle into the pad of her forefinger.

Pain sears up her left hand and Alani bites down on her lip to keep from crying out. She places the needle back on the painted table, breathing heavily, and stands.

The door to the warden's suites is still well-oiled enough to not make a sound as Alani pulls it open. The warden said he didn't want Alani to know when he was coming, but it seems to have worked more in her favor than his.

Two guards stand outside the warden's suites. They click their heels together and salute.

"Your grace," the one with the larger red feather says.

Alani holds out her finger. She screws up her eyes, welling them with tears. "I've injured myself. Please, I must see the healer."

The guard who spoke widens his eyes. "Of course, my lady. Right away." He takes her other hand and leads her through the warm, well-lit hall. They pass tapestries and shelves full of trinkets, statues and a wall full of mosaic. Soft torchlight flickers from iron-wrought sconces set every few steps against the stone. Other doors mark other rooms. Alani's explored most of them, but there's one at the end of the hall that's been locked for the past nine years.

They stop at the entrance to the healer's bedroom. It serves as his examination room for those not locked within the prison's basement dungeon.

"Yes?" Gregor opens the door. He looks convincingly confused, even though this isn't the first time Alani has visited him in the middle of the night. Whenever there are new guards posted outside the warden's door, Alani seizes her chance.

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