Ch 3. Shira           

When I wake up I don't know where I am for a moment. Not tucked into the wall, lying on the ship's rocking, musty mattress; my plush bed at the palace comes to mind. Then, in a quick flash, I remember; I'm at the Ambassador's house. On dry land, finally.

I feel an absurd surge of joy. A laugh escapes my throat at the impossibility of it all, because I've survived. Somehow, I've survived. Running from safe house to safe house, not knowing if we'd be shot in the process, jumping from the cliffs and swimming through the frigid water to a small boat because the harbor was closed, weeks at sea spent feverishly watching the waves for signs of pursuit... it's over. I've made it.

Then I think of all those who didn't, of all the ghost I've left behind. The joy of survival twists into guilt. I'm not entitled to it. All I've done is run away.

What else could you have done? I ask myself for the thousandth time. You heard the gunshots. You knew that if you went into that room you'd die. There's no shame in surviving...

I believe that, sometimes. But now, lying in a beautiful bed, in a safe room, I feel like I've betrayed them. Why should I get hot water and a roof over my head when most of my family isn't breathing? Why should I get to live?

I take a deep breath and sit up, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Mother was right when she told me those kind of thoughts will get me nowhere. You can't spend a month trying to survive and then blame yourself for it.

There's a cup of hot tea sitting beside the bed. A servant must have left it while I slept. I take a sip, expecting a robust black tea, but instead taste the delicate sweetness of Jensi flowers.

Imported from Shikkah, the only place where the Jensi flower grows. I smile into the tea, thinking of the care that someone put into making me feel at home here. Just a cup of tea, but the sentiment, and the familiar flavor, fill me with warmth.

There's a knock at the door. Assuming it's a servant with breakfast, I call for them to come in.

"Please convey my thanks for the tea." I say, still not looking up from the cup I'm sipping from. "It's wonderful. Oh, and you can set the food by the door, if you don't mind."

"I haven't brought any." A familiar voice answers. I look up from the cup and find the Ambassador standing in the doorway, dressed in a fitted black jacket and linen pants, looking quite professional.

"A-ambassador, I- uh, I wasn't expecting you." I stutter, standing up quickly and bowing. The bow causes my blue silk dressing gown to gape, so I stand up quickly and pull it tightly around myself. I can feel my cheeks turning crimson.

"I expected the servant who brought the tea earlier." I say, trying to regain some level of composure. "I apologize."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I should've known you'd still be in bed. I forget how exhausting it is, crossing the Karithian channel."

"Ah- yes." I agree, resisting the urge to fidget with my dressing gown. "Quite exhausting. Quite the exhausting journey."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you." I say, smiling and trying to pretend I'm not talking casually to Kama's head Ambassador wearing only a flimsy dressing gown. I would be embarrassed if anyone beyond my mother or cousin saw me in such a state of undress; for a relative stranger to do so is beyond mortifying.

"Shira, are you alright?" The ambassador asks with a frown. "Your cheeks are the color of Jusu berries. Don't tell me you've caught a fever already..."

"Oh, no. No." I laugh tightly. "I'm fine. It's just, well, you've found me in a rather.... vulnerable state."

"A vulnerable state?" He asks, his brown knitting together in confusion.

"... Of undress." I can't believe I'm explaining this.

"A vulnerable state of undress." The Ambassador repeats. "You're just in your sleeping clothes."

"Exactly." I agree. Suddenly I feel like I'm defending my reaction. "It's a bit indecent, don't you think, to hold a conversation with your host in just your sleeping clothes?"

"It'd be indecent if you slept in the nude." He retorts. "As it stands, you're fully covered and wearing finer fabric than I am, so I don't really see the problem. But I apologize if I've embarrassed you. I just came to ask if you'd like to have a cup of Yxala with me in the gardens."

"Though I understand if you're not feeling up to it." He adds. "You've travelled a long way."

My first, cowardly thought is to decline his offer. I'm tired, physically and emotionally, and I can feel my chest tighten at the thought of leaving this room and having to deal with a whole mansion of foreign strangers. But he's my host, and declining would be incomprehensibly rude, especially considering how terse I was last night.

"I would love to." I reply with what I hope is a convincing smile. "If you'd just give me a little time to dress..."

"Of course," he says, a small smile ghosting his lips. "I'll have Tyro come and get you in half an hour."

Immediately I wish I had refused the invitation, civility be damned. I should have claimed illness, fatigue, sea-sickness, something. I have no desire to leave this room. I have even less desire to drink Yxala and make small talk with a host who seems, at best, mercurial.

I thought that arriving safely in Kama would restore my equilibrium and reinvigorate my sense of purpose. But I don't feel stable, or driven. I mostly feel numb. I'm almost afraid I won't be able to act convincingly human.

I look in the mirror and cringe internally. My long hair is knotted from being slept on wet, my eyes are sunken, and my dark circles look like bruises. I smile at myself, imagining I'm smiling at the Ambassador, but it's not very convincing.

I smile again, this time concentrating on making my eyes crinkle as my lips lift. Not perfect, but better. I slap my cheeks to bring color to my face, and run a brush through my hair until it lies flat and straight. Then I tie the silver-blonde strands into a low ponytail using a dark green ribbon. I smile again, and it's still a bit pained, but at least I look less unkempt.

I heave open my chest and start looking for something to wear. Before we left Shikkah mother managed to procure a few outfits fitting, if not a noble, a very rich man. She insisted I not go abroad looking like a beggar, even if I am one, for all intents and purposes. Begging sanctuary from a man I don't know, who doesn't seem very happy to have me here...

I push that thought away and sort through my tunics. Bright red is too flashy. The white one will stain too easily, and it's covered in jewels. Much too nice for a visit to the gardens.

I settle on a pale green tunic with silver embroidery along its sleeves and a pair of loose white pants. It's what I would wear to walk through the palace gardens in Shikkah, simple and loose. Surely it'll do for drinking Yxala.

Yxala. I know from my mother's tutoring aboard the ship that it's a ceremonial drink made from the Jusu berry, often offered as a sign of hospitality or friendship. I can't imagine the ambassador means it as either, after how brusquely he treated me last night. It's probably just a formality.

But still, mother made sure I understood that sharing Yxala is much more important than sharing tea is in Shikkah. I believe her exact words were, "don't ever refuse a cup of Yxala, unless you're sure it's poisoned. Even then, it's probably best to pretend you took a sip."

Tyro knocks on the door, interrupting my thoughts. When I open it, his eyebrows raise as he appraises me.

"What?"

"Nothing. Come on." He says, leading me through the hallways at a comfortable pace. "I'm to take you to the gardens."

The gardens are incredible. Rows of trees and tall shrubs block the city from view, almost convincing me I'm in the country instead of a bustling capitol city. Low-lying purple flowers weave in between the footpaths, and lilies half as tall as I am perfume the air. Untrimmed roses grow together in wild-looking clumps, their bright red faces highlighted by the light of the noonday sun. It's a far cry from the manicured gardens I'm used to, but its wildness is no less beautiful.

I crouch beside a small plant and rub its leaves between my fingers, then smell them. "Jessonweed." I murmur to myself, making a mental note to come back if I get a headache. Jessonweed tea is wonderful for all sorts of pain.
"You know about plants?" I stand up quickly and see the Ambassador standing next to Tyro. I bow, preparing myself with an arsenal of politeness should he decide to bait me again.

"There's no need to bow."

I straighten, then answer his question. "Botany's been a hobby of mine for many years."

He nods. "So, what do you think of my gardens?"

"They're lovely. I almost can't believe we're in the middle of the city right now."

"I had them built when the council insisted I live in the governing district. If I had it my way, I'd live in the countryside, and let my gardens grow so wild they'd became a jungle."

I smile, unsure how to respond.

"Then you would transform into a leopard cat and live in them, right?" Tyro jokes. "I mean, you'd have to sleep in the dirt and eat small vermin, but you could be as solitary and ill-humored as you'd like."

My eyes widen. I expect the Ambassador to bristle at his servant's barb, but he barely blinks.

"If you have nothing better to do than joke, why don't you go check on the status of the Sharamani trade report I asked Syana for last week."

Tyro nods. "Want me to stop by and see how Xumira is doing with the Yi'ili war delegates?"

"Of course." The Ambassador replies. "And bring her some chocolate, would you? It might help keep her from snapping their necks."

"Yes, sir." Tyro says in a serious tone, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "Though you have to admit that would be fun to watch."

"It would be." The Ambassador concedes. "But horrible foreign policy. Now go."

Tyro smiles and gives a small nod of his head before walking off. I'm left wondering about their relationship- Tyro obviously isn't just another servant given their level of rapport.

"If you follow me, I'll show you to the table." The Ambassador says simply. "I don't want the Yxala to go cold."

I wait for him to say something disparaging, some thinly veiled insult wrapped in philosophical musings, but he's silent. And not in a rude way, either; this man is a different man than the one I met last night. The man I met in the office didn't seem capable of friendliness, much less trading jokes with Tyro, or dreaming of retreating to a country garden. What's changed?