Unsurprisingly, it lay in the House of the Cleric’s wing. She strode down the grand hall connecting the three buildings, the floors polished marble with a runner of orange carpet down the center. The Colour of Compassion should remind the lawmakers, a body of mostly men, to remember the suffering of the poor.
She passed oil paintings of “important” men striking dramatic poses. Some appeared proud in armor, shiny breastplates and pauldrons, sitting gallantly upon destriers, resplendent and martial. Others wore the fashion of their time, some in curious garments that Avena had never seen before: jackets of velvet with puffy sleeves, thick scarves wrapped about necks, voluminous pants that almost resembled skirts divided for riding.
Refractor Charlis’s office lay on the fourth floor. She felt only lightly winded when she’d finished her climb instead of a dizzy spell, glad her stamina returned to her. Each office had a brass nameplate affixed to the darkly polished doors. She passed several, belonging to other priests and refractors, before she found the one she searched for.
She opened it onto a smaller office, an antechamber with a desk covered in parchment, its chair pulled back as though its occupant had left it in haste. The walls were painted in rainbow hues, the seven colors forming chevron patterns that spread out from the middle and vanished behind a shelf. It held a complete set of religious tomes upon it.
“Deffona?” Avena asked as she glanced around the small room. A small coat rack stood by the door. She hung her satchel from it and frowned. There was no place in here for her friend to hide. “Hello?”
The door to Charlis’s office opened and a smiling Deffona stepped out, her cheeks rosy with delight. She adjusted her veil and then clapped her hands together. With a girlish squeal, she rushed around her desk to Avena.
Avena matched her gleeful excitement.
The two embraced as words poured out of their mouths, both speaking so fast at and at the same time, their words merged to form something akin to birdsong. Avena greeted her friend while Deffona apologized for not visiting her more while she recovered. Their excitement echoed through the room as they rocked together in a tight hug.
Finally, Deffona broke the hug and took a step back. “Why are you here? Did you want to take me to tea? There’s this wonderful tea house nearby. They serve a delightful Relashim oolong.”
“No, no,” Avena said. She turned to her satchel and pulled out the thick envelope. She thrust it at her friend. “Dualayn’s answer to Charlis.”
“He’s been expecting this,” Deffona said, hugging it tight. “We’re trying to head off the king’s mad ambition to seize all of the Border Fangs for himself.”
Avena smiled. She felt like a tiny link in a jewelchine network, not unlike the one she’d built for her earthen gauntlet. She wasn’t an important cog, but her turning had done something to arrest this looming disaster. A war with Roidan over something as petty as jewels made little sense to her when the two countries traded all the time.
Deffona set the envelope on her desk, then her eyes flicked up and down. Her gaze narrowed. “Is Ōbhin being delicate?”
“That’s a word for it,” Avena answered.
“Yours?”
“Disappointed in me and reticent to see my weakness get me injured again.” A weight pressed on her. Avena’s good mood evaporated.
“Weakness? You? He said that?” Anger flashed across Deffona’s face. “I thought he had some sense. Maybe he’s as blind as a cockroach in the sun, but surely he could have recognized you’re not weak.”
“I’m not strong,” Avena said.
“I don’t mean physically!” She waved her bare hand in the air, her yellow sleeve rustling. “That’s not the strength that counts, and you know it. Look at you. The only time I’ve seen you look more miserable was after Chames’s death.” Deffona’s face tightened. “I should have been clearer with him. Maybe it was the rosebush metaphor that confused him.”
“Rosebush?” Befuddlement rippled across Avena’s expression.
“You know that it isn’t your weakness he’s worried about.”
“Fingers said he’s scared of seeing me get hurt, but I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I didn’t mess up. I just can’t remember how. It’s all jumbled up in here.” She tapped her head. A fuzzy ripple ran through her body, a strange disassociation. She felt unreal for a moment. Alien.
“You okay?”
“I just . . . I still get dizzy sometimes,” Avena muttered.
“You did have a sword stuck in your head. It’s a miracle that you’re alive. Elohm’s Colours healed you through His gems.”
“Through Dualayn.” Avena swallowed. “How can I prove to Ōbhin that I’m strong if he’s running away from me? He won’t let me train. I need to get better so I won’t mess up again.”
“Why do you think you messed up?”
“I took a piece of steel in the head.” She rubbed at the spot, feeling for any leftover damage. Her fingers caressed whole skin over hard bone. “How else could it have happened?”
“I don’t know.” Deffona cocked her head, her veil rustling over her wimple. “Even if it was your fault, that’s not why Ōbhin’s acting this way. He doesn’t want to see you get hurt again.” A smile blossomed on her lips. “He wants to keep you safe like a prized treasure.”
Avena furrowed her brow. “You really need to stop reading those books. They’re not realistic. I don’t want to be his prized treasure. I want to be at his side.”
“Even though it’s dangerous?”
“How can I keep him safe if I’m not beside him?” Avena asked and then blinked at her words. They shocked her. “I . . . I don’t want him to go off and do dangerous things when I’m not around.”
“You’re finally realizing it, aren’t you?” Deffona clapped her hands together and sighed again. “Love.”
Avena sank
