Heir of Beasts

Ch. 6.6- Little One

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" He seethes, standing above me. "Any idea at all, or is that pretty head of yours as empty as I feared?"

"I know what I've done," I whisper, not looking at him. I'm not afraid of his anger, I realize, though it's rolling off of him in waves. His dark eyes have narrowed, gathered tensely under generous brows, and his mouth is drawn tightly across his flushed face.

But his anger seems far away, unreal. Or maybe I'm far away, pulled into myself so tightly nothing external can really touch me.

"Do you?" He spits. "You swore to me you'd do as I said, that you'd behave- that's the only reason I agreed to take you into that meeting, Shira! Do you understand how much I risked, what would have happened to me if they found you out? And you repaid my risk by disregarding every warning, by behaving like a child, careless of consequence!

"You made such a scene running away I had to excuse you by telling everyone my scribe got sick because he couldn't stomach Kami food! And then you wandered off like some Shattered idiot, just wandered off into the city! What, did you plan on living here now, in this grove, like some cosseted forest nymph? Do you know how long it took me to find you?"

"I'm sorry," I murmur, my cheek still pressed against the rough bark of the tree. The fading light of sunset holds my attention. It's a soft light, a purple grey that reminds me of the innermost petals of a Bavyana flower.

"Shira!" He shouts. I turn my head towards him, force my eyes to focus.

"What?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," I whisper, drawn back to the light behind him.

Bavyana flowers grow best in the desert, with no water and no true soil. Impossible flowers. They seemed so hearty I once planted one in my garden, assuming that if it could survive so well on nothing, it would thrive under my tender care.

It died within a week. Too much water, to much soil, too much shade. It could only survive in impossible conditions.

"No, you're not," he chuffs. "I was wrong to take you five feet from the manor. I should've known Shikkah's prince would be an empty-headed fool."

I laugh. A broken, grating sound. Now confusion mingles with the Ambassador's anger.

"I'm not empty headed," I murmur. "I wish I was, Ambassador. My head is much too full."

"What is it full of, then?" He questions harshly. "Cradle songs? Flowers? It certainly isn't full of any sort of sense!"

"Yes, flowers," I whisper, smiling strangely. "Very full of flowers. Bavyana flowers, to be exact. Fields and fields of them, Ambassador. You know them, don't you?"

He looks at me like I'm truly a nymph, some unearthly creature speaking a foreign tongue. "Have you gone completely mad!?"

"No, not me. The world, it's the world that's mad." I press my cheek into the tree, closing my eyes. "I'm a Bavyana flower. Only good for the desert, put me anywhere else and I wilt to nothing. A useless transplant."

"Stop it," he huffs, though not entirely unkindly. He watches me for a moment; I can feel his eyes studying me. "What's happened to you, Shira? Why are you acting like this?"

Why? Such a simple question, but I can hardly begin to explain. He's never seen a Bavyana flower. He's never loved O'otani. He's never lost everything, and then lost it all again one month later. How can I even begin to explain?