The Witch and The Thief

9

Lucida cocked her head to the side as she studied her, "It makes perfect sense about you."

What was that supposed to mean?

Maera ground her teeth and fought the desire to ask the question even though there was no doubt in her mind that she would not appreciate Lucida's corresponding reply. If she gave one. More likely, Lucida would change the subject altogether and never broach the matter again.

"What was it like there?"

"Cold," Maera murmured, "and lonesome."

"Even amongst all those other children?" Lucida's eyes softened for a moment with emotion that almost looked like remorse before disappearing, replaced by disinterest.

They sat in awkward silence for several moments, and Maera bit her tongue to keep from asking why Lucida was there in the first place. When the quiet became intolerable, Maera opened her mouth without knowing what she was going to say but was interrupted by Lucida, who stated, "Aggie told me you caught the thief here again and tried to help him escape."

Maera swallowed. Her heart pounded in her chest, and chills of dread raced down her spine. "Did she?"

Lucida's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, "You don't trust me, do you?"

"W-why would you think that?" She nervously asked, choking on her words.

"'Tis probably for the best," Lucida lifted her shoulders in an unconcerned shrug as she stood, ignoring Maera's question. "We'll be down shortly to dress you for the wakening ceremony."

A wave of dizziness slammed into Maera so hard that she thought she might faint. "So soon?" How was it possible she'd slept the majority of the day away?

Lucida stopped and turned, meeting Maera's terrified eyes. An emotion that might have passed as compassion in any other person flared to life for a split second before it died, replaced by apathy. "A warm bath sounds heavenly, don't you agree?"

Maera refused to reply and held still until she heard the cellar door slam shut. She closed her eyes, angrily brushing away the tears that fell. Why did so many of her kind feel they had to be cruel because they were born striga? Would it be too much to ask for a little sympathy in the hours before she faced her death?

Choking back a sob, Maera opened her eyes, expecting to be faced by the pitch-black void once more. Instead, she stared with mouth agape at the warmly lit cell and copper tub filled with steaming water releasing the aromatic scent of lavender into the air. In Lucida's throne sat a stack of fluffy towels and a new chemise draped over the tall back.

Maera slowly rose to her feet, groaning against the stiff aches that had set in from her hours sitting on the hard ground. She glanced around the cellar, taking note of the wall torches banishing the shadows to the far reaches of the room. The lingering darkness made her mind wander to Lachlan, and the first time they'd met.

As much as she wanted to curse that day and dredge up hatred for him, she couldn't. Her heart wouldn't allow it. But neither would she allow herself to pine after him and wish they'd met under different circumstances. He was long gone by now, and she had far more important things to worry about at present.

Warily, she approached the tub, half-expecting it to be a cruel trick or delusional imagining. But everything remained as it was, even after dipping her finger in the water to find it to be the perfect temperature for a relaxing soak instead of scalding hot or bone-chilling cold.

Tears stung her eyes, her chin wobbled, and Maera suddenly felt terrible for all the horrible things she'd thought about Lucida.

Before she knew it, she'd stripped out of her stained chemise and was settling into the deliciously warm scented water, biting back a moan as it slowly eased her aches and pains and left her feeling refreshed.