The Changeling

38

Cetlali spent the rest of her day with Masha and Athua, well protected by Athua's Imperial Guard. Athua insisted on making the day as bright as possible. They had a picnic in the garden with foods so decadent Cetlali thought she had died and ascended to orbit with the gods. Athua had a meeting the next morning, so she passed on the day-drinking. Cetlali and Masha made up for Athua's non-indulgence and drank far too much. They even went swimming in the pond like children on a summer's day, laughing together like they had nary a worry in the entire world. It was wonderful and well deserved.

They ended up back in Athua's rooms and ate dinner. Though it was a much more subdued affair, it was no less joyous. Their skin glowed, kissed and warmed by the heat of the day as they lounged in Athua's enormous art room. She had exquisite lighting from the large

glass roof above the atrium that also gave them a wondrous view of sunsets, clouds, and stars.

Upon a massive pile of cushions and pillows scattered on the floor, they talked about their hopes and fears for the next few years. Athua was concerned about leading people and her dream of one day being a mother, worried about trying to handle it and the Empire.

Masha was intent on becoming a commander in the Municipal Army by the time she was twenty. That left Cetlali wondering where the hell she should even start.

Getting out alive was the first thing that came to mind. Then heading to the North for protection. Athua had hinted the Cetwoll of Waingnam was approaching retirement and could use an apprentice. Cetlali was unsure if she wanted to run another's keep ever again.

For a good long time, she was so lost in her thoughts about what she wanted to do, she could barely speak. Reveling and revolting in the sickness swirling inside of her that was half giddy and half dread. She realized she never

really had the chance at such a simple thing, like having no one to please but herself.

It was late in the evening and the Vassour Elect's Complex was a mind-numbing quiet.

She saw Lovou earlier in passing and he'd given her a note that just had the word 'midnight' on it. She heeded his earlier insistence with a sincere dedication and burned the note as soon as she stepped into her rooms.

Although her hands were tremulous with terror, throughout that entire day, she kept get flashes of breathless tranquility. Something surged through her veins she hadn't felt since she was a child, running through the forests surrounding Cazar Shcomou. Her intention was training herself to fight with stolen padding and swords far too big for her.

Learning to protect herself was her first glimpse of freedom.

She was still in her dress, though her shoes were long forgotten. Loose leather trousers, a large tunic, a thick vest, and a sure weather cloak sat waiting for her to change into. She

just finished packing up her satchel. Stuffed with clean rags, old, but still good boots, a healing kit, spare daggers, extra clothes, and a few neutral toned headscarves to cover her hair.

She thought she could copy the style of some men in the South. They wore their silky hair long and tied it up on top of their heads within a stiff scarf and could fold it in such innovative ways. It was artful and regal. She might pass for a southern child apprenticing Lovou that way.

The scarf would even protect her hair from the elements. She'd have to see if it was alright for one of these men to share the skill with her.

Until then, she would do as Ayodele bid. A simple wind of material her around braided up twists and the cloak's hood would have to suffice.

She heard her door open and smiled like a pleased cat. "Are you trying to sneak up on me again, Seun?" She turned, "I thought I passed all your tests to see if my skill will suffice in the