I See Faeries

~chapter seventeen~

Brother?

~

I awoke abruptly before dawn.

Roman was gone. He'd fallen asleep beside me last night, but I wasn't surprised that he hadn't stayed. Part of me was almost relieved. I didn't know how to feel about what had happened, and I didn't want to see regret in his eyes when we awoke together. We hadn't . . . consummated . . . anything, but I'd never kissed or been kissed so heatedly before. Roman had his duties, and like he'd said before: personal feelings and desires only complicated things. The attraction between us ran deep - perhaps deeper than either of us cared to admit - and I had a feeling that last night fell into the category of 'complications,' which was something neither of us needed.

It's best that we avoid each other, I told myself. For both our sakes.

I pushed away thoughts of Roman, and looked around the dark room, wondering what had woken me. Soft moonlight filtered in through the drapes, casting the corners of the space into shadow and illuminating the center of the floor.

Suddenly, I saw a movement. There - just at the edge of the area of light. I watched warily as a feather slowly floated out of the shadows and into the moonlight. It landed lightly on the wooden floor. Slowly, cautiously, I pushed back the covers and stood, then bent and picked the feather up. It was long and brown, with bars of black. Like a wing-feather from a large bird.

An owl hooted softly, startling me. The sound was too loud to be coming from outside. It was in the room with me.

Are the owls here like the ones in Avenia? I wondered, as I scanned the room for any sign of the bird. Don't they normally avoid people? What is one doing inside?

I took a step backwards, toward the bed, and bumped against something with my foot. I nearly had a heart attack when it squawked and hopped away. I had to sit down to get my breathing back under control. The owl cocked its head, moonlight spilling over its barred brown feathers as it stared at me with what seemed to be curiosity.

"You scared me," I scolded it, after my rapidly beating heart had finally slowed. "What are you doing in here?"

The owl just blinked its huge yellow eyes at me, and scratched at the floor with a taloned foot. It seemed impatient.

"What do you want?" I asked. Why am I talking to this owl? It's an owl. It doesn't understand.

The bird clacked its beak and spread its wings, hopping to the door of my room. It stopped and stared pointedly at the knob. I sighed and stood up. "Alright." I opened the door, and watched the owl walk awkwardly outside. Its big talons seemed to get in the way, giving it an odd, rolling gait. Halfway down the hallway, it turned around and stopped walking. It stared at me with those unsettling yellow eyes, and I felt a sudden surge of nervousness. It wants me to follow it.

We looked at each other for a moment, the bird and I, until I finally accepted that the little voice was right. It wasn't going anywhere unless I came with.

"Wait here," I said - as if the owl was going anywhere. I closed the door to my room, quickly slipped out of my nightdress, and donned my black leather leggings and the tunic that Roman had left in my room. His shirt was far too big for me, but it was soft and smelled like him. I had to resist the urge to lift the collar to my nose and inhale. No complications, I reminded myself. 

Both my dress and tunic were unwearable now thanks to him, so fresh clothes would be a definite necessity when we went to the market after sunup. I slid stockings over my feet and pulled on my boots, then strapped the stolen knife to my right leg. I'd managed to fit the broken blade of my old knife into its sheath, and planned to try to get it fixed at the market. Hopefully there would be a smithy there - someone with the knowledge to attach the blade to a new hilt.