Quiet Places

This time, I wake up to someone calling my name. I groan, and still half-asleep, shove at the weight on me. Another voice calls, close to my ear. I slap at it and feel a face that I shove away. I hate being woken up.

Finally, the weight on me disappears, and I happily resettle into the chair. But I still can't fall back into my peaceful nap, as there's quiet conversation keeping me awake. I finally crack open my eyes and glare at the scene before me.

Adrian looks grumpy, but Lucien's just grinning. Behind them, Dante's holding a sleeping Virgil in his arms. I put the dots together, and look to Adrian. "Was that...you?"

His pout grows deeper. "That you slapped? Yes, it was me."

I can't help it, and let out a little giggle. "Sorry. I don't like being woken up."

"Awfully childish of you," says Dante, laying Virgil down in a chair.

I shrug in response. "What can I say? The sensible parts of me just aren't awake yet." I notice Lucien's grin widen. "Don't go getting any ideas, you."

"It's too late, I'm sure," says Adrian wryly.

"What's too late?" asks Virgil in a sleepy voice. I look over and see him patting the chair. "Adelaide?"

"I'm over here," I giggle. 

He finally opens his eyes and looks over in confusion. "That's not very nice."

"Speaking of childish," I giggle. He tilts his head and frowns. "Dante did it," I add.

He turns to glare at Dante instead, who holds up his hands in surrender. "It was that, or she would have shoveled you onto the floor."

Virgil turns back to me with puppy eyes. I just roll my eyes in response. "He makes it sound like it was on purpose. These three woke me up and my half-asleep brain was trying to get the weight off me."

"Oh." After a moment of thought, Virgil grins at Dante. "Hey. I won."

Oh great, now what?

Dante tilts his head with a slight grin. "What? You got your reward, didn't you?"

"I got it willingly," he pouts. "It doesn't count."

"It only counts if you get it willingly," I retort. Virgil frowns even deeper.

Dante chuckles. "Well, there's your answer." He takes a seat as well, next to Adrian, who's already lounging in the chair.

"Did you guys really wager on who could find me first? I just wanted some alone time," I grumble.

"You're the one who said we could call you any time," says Lucien, leaning forward.

I sigh. "I know, but…" I change the subject. "What's with this library anyway? Why is it so big?"

"Ah, that," replies Adrian, waving his hand dismissively. "They expect us to study."

"... that's your punishment?" I ask dubiously. Adrian nods, obviously unhappy. "You've got to be kidding," I giggle. "That's all?"

"Ugh. You have no idea how boring it is," he replies, sagging in his seat.

"You're right, I don't," I reply quietly.

"Lucky," he sighs, then actually looks at me properly. "Wait. Why did you say it like that?"

"Thralls don't generally receive much of an education, remember?" says Lucien.

"That's right," says Virgil. "How can you read, anyway? Why did you know all those books?"

"I sort of taught myself. I attended a lot of poetry readings and worked it out. And no one bothered to stop me from picking up books when I served them in the library," I answer.

"That's rather impressive," says Dante, his eyebrows raised appreciatively, but I shake my head.

"We all do it. I was working with a lot of other thralls trying to learn. It's just, well… most thralls don't have the energy to do anything but take care of themselves. I'm just lucky, really. One of the reasons I was able to get the fidelis enchantment is that I have a high blood capacity and good recovery rate."

"What a waste," sighs Virgil.

I cock my head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"If you had been obedient, you could have really done well. I mean, you could have even served the Council personally."

"Screw the council," I spit. "I would have done the same thing."

Lucien raises his eyebrows. "Easy for you to say now, with your masters being as accommodating as we are."

Ugh. I hate that term. But if I say anything about it, they'll definitely use it just to annoy me. But that doesn't change my mind. "I'd still do it," I reply resolutely. 

But Lucien just shakes his head. "You would fight, at first, I'm sure. But if we - or they - were determined to break you, it would be easy."

I level him with a steady stare. "What makes you think I would be easy to break?"

He chuckled arrogantly. "Don't pretend, little bird. You're well-trained. All your talk about your 'limits' is just talk. I can tell you've had a cushy life. You don't know what real hardship is."

I stand, feeling cold with rage. "Don't mistake compliance for weakness. And don't mistake my kindness as a sign of an easy life." I march past, to leave before my anger gets the best of me.

But Lucien grabs my wrist as I pass him. "Where do you think you're going?"

I glare at him and try to yank my arm back. "Out. Away from you." But he won't let go. So I concentrate on lighting the skin of my wrist.

I hear the slight sizzle, but he doesn't let go immediately. Quick as a flash, he reaches forward, and I feel my fingers wrenched back as the poppy lock binds my hand. He finally lets my hand go, but I don't even look at him as I stalk out of the room.

I want somewhere quiet, and secret. But I'm also tired of being cooped up inside again. I head for the garden. It's a new moon - which is good for feeling hidden, but I find myself longing for the sun. Still, I want to find somewhere tucked away before anyone tries to find me. I remember the weeping willow and head straight for the corner of the garden.

Luckily, the branches split very low, so even with one nearly-useless hand, I can clamber up into the branches. There's not much of a breeze to sway the trailing branches, but the trickle of the water is reassuring. Though I do wish it was louder, loud enough to cover my sound. I just want to feel the world, without necessarily being a part of it.

The rough, cool bark feels strangely comforting, and I inhale the calming woody scent as I lean against the trunk. Finally alone - well and truly alone -  the events of the past week finally start to hit me. I feel that familiar deep weight bloom in my chest as I stared listlessly at the leaves. I want to cry, but I can't. I'm a long way from being able to cry. So instead, the feelings of loneliness and worry just tangle themselves into knots around my heart. So I close my eyes, feel the rough bark on my back, listen to the ambient sounds of the night, and try not to think about when my solitude will be broken.