The next few days were excruciating. Every small bit of human interaction was draining, even though she only ever saw the servants sent to attend her and Agrippa, the healer. She would get up and move around, excited to recover her strength, but soon found that everything made her feel weaker and more tired than before. Her stomach seemed to have shrunk to the size of a pea due to her lack of food, and after a few mouthfuls of the healthy slop Agrippa kept giving her she felt ready to vomit.
She repeated a mantra to herself, trying to stay sane.
Step by step. Brick by brick.
Delilah often glowered at the sight she saw in the mirror. Her skin looked grey and sickly, criss-crossed with ugly, half-healed scars, her face sunken, eyes wild and staring. Her hair had grown since Nell cut it, but it was drab and faded. She could see every bone in her body.
She fought against her own impulses to keep from shattering the mirror and eventually pushed a chest of drawers in front of it. She'd rather not see herself. The simple task left her trembling with a vicious headache that lasted the whole day.
Days blurred into weeks, but Delilah didn't bother to count them. This time the guards didn't leave her door, and she didn't need to be told to know she was confined to her room. Eventually Agrippa began to take her through exercises to revive her wasted muscles, which involved spending time in an enclosed garden courtyard close to her bedroom. The sunlight, the breeze, the rustle of tiny trees... it was all glorious. Being outside was when she felt most alive.
Although the towering palace walls enclosing the garden made her chest lock up. They were too similar to Goriath.
One day, she woke to see a girl sat on her bed. A strangled shriek escaped her and she sat bolt upright, her vision already swimming at the abrupt movement.
"What are you doing – get out!"
The girl was nibbling on a pear. She looked to be about twelve years old.
"Hello. I'm Alana, Aylin's sister."
Delilah blinked uncomprehendingly.
"Oh! Don't you even know Aylin's name? I'd have thought Marko would have told you. But you were away when they met..." She tipped her head to one side, lovely chestnut skin gleaming in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Her long dark hair rippled with gentle, natural waves, and her eyes were huge and brown.
"Aylin. Marko's fiancée," Delilah said, feeling stupid. "You're from the Southern Islands?"
"Oanu, yes. And they're married now," the girl chirped.
Delilah snatched the bedcovers to her chin. "How the hell did you get in here? I have guards."
"They don't watch the windows."
"You climbed in? Impressive." They don't watch the windows. Interesting.
"Thanks!" Alana's eyes glowed.
"I'm not meant to have visitors."
"That's exactly why I'm here. I've been dying to see what you look like for ages, but Agrippa and the king haven't let anyone come near you. Aren't you lonely?" She didn't wait for Delilah to answer. "Your room is lovely. It's bigger than mine."
"I'm the princess." Like it isn't obvious.
"Oh yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Do you want to go for a walk? We can climb out the way I climbed in!"
Delilah looked up at the high, small open window – the lower ones were solid glass panes. There was no way she could get out there in her state.
"Maybe if you go and speak to my guards, they'll let us," she said. Meek. Mild. Obedient.
"Oh, okay." Obviously disappointed to be following rules, Alana jumped up, took a huge bite of pear, and opened the door.
The guards' jaws dropped when they beheld the little Oanu girl standing on the wrong side of the threshold.
"Good morning, kind sirs. You must be tired, guarding this door all night. Delilah and I would like to go for a walk. We'll stay together, so you have nothing to worry about."
"The princess is not allowed to enter every section of the palace, and she is not to leave its walls," a guard said. "Gaol has instructed men to stand sentry at these points."
"Well, then we'll know where to stay away from, and your duties are no longer required. Maybe you should get some sleep? No offence, but you both look awful."
Delilah didn't know whether to laugh or cry as the guards exchanged bemused looks. They were obviously sleep-deprived, with dark circles around their eyes, and they weren't thinking clearly.
"I'll... inform the captain of the guard," the second man said. "I suppose it could be allowed, if he knows about it."
"And I'll head to the barracks." The first guard seemed to crave sleep above all else.
"Great! Let's go, Delilah," Alana said.
"I'm not dressed yet," she snapped.
After ordering the girl to wait outside until she'd donned a long, unassuming grey dress, Delilah emerged and they set off through the palace at a brisk walk. Now it looked how she remembered it, with sunlight streaming in through countless windows and arches, lighting up the white walls and golden scrollwork, the decorations as chill and beautiful as frosting on a cake. Everywhere they stepped, she heard the chatter of running water, the distant flap of footsteps and murmur of voices.
When they encountered people whose faces went slack with shock and horror to see her out and about, Delilah decided she preferred the palace at night, away from prying eyes. They passed a group of courtiers who shrieked at the sight of her, and later on a gaggle of politicians who eyed her nervously, hands fidgeting.
"The palace certainly is busy today," Alana commented. Delilah detested small talk, but Alana seemed to love it.
Aren't you afraid of me? She wanted to scream. How can you not know what I was, what I did? Had Alana been sheltered all her life, or had she only arrived recently? Had news of Delilah's exploits and murders not yet reached Oanu?
Delilah was wondering whether to ask her what she'd heard when they rounded a corner to find two tall, handsome young men deep in conversation.
One was Marko. The other was Finias.