Fourteen

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The refection staring back at me is unrecognizable

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The refection staring back at me is unrecognizable. Her skin is too pale. The freckles kissing her cheeks and nose have faded to a dull brown. The tunic and trousers she wore weeks ago hang from her frame. When she tilts her head from side to side, I cringe at the sharpness of her once round cheeks. Dark circles rest below her eyes, and her hair hangs in stringy strands past her shoulders. I didn't notice the changes while in Allaji, but I was slowly withering away.

With a sigh, I dip my hands into the washbasin and scrub my face. It's the third time I've washed my skin. I woke up this morning with the overwhelming need to make myself clean of any remnants of Allaji. The rational part of my brain tells me I have done all I can and now I just need to give myself time to let the memories fade. But another side doesn't want so much of a speck of dust from the island to follow me home.

I dry my face with the damp towel and look at myself again. This time my reflection is not alone in the small round mirror. Kyron leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. "We should reach port in the next hour."

"I can't wait," I say, the words feeling like sand in my mouth. I haven't ventured out of this room since I woke up. Kyron and I spent yesterday in bed, snuggled against each other. He fell asleep minutes after our kiss, and I spent hours staring at him. We were safe within these walls. There were no questions to answer or consequences for our actions to face. Families weren't torn apart in this small room and an imminent war didn't exist. No crowns, no angry deity, just Raelle and Kyron.

I gather my hair to the nape of my neck and try to wrap it in place with a leather tie. My hands shake with nerves, and I lose my grip twice. Groaning, I toss the tie onto the counter and press my fingers to my eyes.

Kyron moves behind me until his chest is to my back. "May I?" he asks.

I look at him over my shoulder and nod. He separates my hair into three sections and sets to work braiding it. I close my eyes and enjoy the gentle tug. It feels good to give him control. For too many days, the wrong person ruled over me. They didn't treat me with respect and saw me as nothing more than a possession to dangle in front of their court. Everything I did was to keep hold of the smallest pieces of me—every breath, every word, every movement. I'm finally at peace knowing I'm in safe hands.

After tying the end of the braid, he guides me to face him and smooths down the tiny hairs framing my face. "No one expects you to walk off this ship like nothing happened to you," he whispers.

I shake my head and swallow past the lump growing in my throat. "No, but they will look to me for hope. If they see me as a survivor, they can continue to hope the same for their loved ones. I need to show those families that Zek hasn't won."

"You're better at this than me," he says.

"Better at what?"

He reaches for a strand of hair next to my cheek and twirls it around his finger. "Leading. Giving hope. Being what Pliris needs."

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