19th of Inandyl - 3rd Serrin

  The day after the Masquerade, everything seems muted compared to the enchanted pageantry of the night before. I watch out my window as scribes go through their days’ events with a lethargic air about them and I can guess that for some of them it is not just from staying up until dawn, dancing and making merry.

  I do not share in their lethargy, not entirely, even though I am extremely tired. I stifle a yawn at the mere thought of sleep. Cira was up before noon and woke me to ask where I had put her jar of willow bark. Delirious, I rummaged through my desk to retrieve it for her and notice a large traveling pack on her bed. I recall then that she is getting ready for her trip back home for the break.

  Chou and I watch her from my desk; her on her little perch that I made for her out of a small jewelry box and a tiny pillow, and me sitting in my chair, wearing a nightgown. The fabric is smooth and airy, but somehow anything other than the elegant chiffons of my “Lady Crow” enchantment just feels plain.

  It seems a bit surreal to me that it came to feel so normal with the mask on. But now everyone I met, chatted with, and even danced with won’t know who I am. Just like I don’t know who they are. I could collapse on my desk for thinking about the one I might not meet again.

  My mind wanders to Uriell and how he nearly kissed me beneath the stars. It takes all my willpower not to blush in front of Cira as she packs. She has been especially close-lipped about last night so I take the opportunity to ask her about it.

  “So how was your night, last night?” I start awkwardly. “Did it measure up to your expectations?” I cast a sidelong glance in her direction, trying to gauge her reaction.

  Surprisingly, she comes to stillness at my question, her packing halted for the moment. She heaves a deep sigh and speaks with an oddly listless tone. “It was wonderful. It was everything I hoped it would be and more.” She pauses and I wonder why she sounds so disappointed about it.

  When she doesn’t start again, I interject. “Then…”, but she interrupts my thought, turning around to face me and sitting next to me at her own desk. She takes my hands in hers and I see the pained look on her face. My worry grows as I see her on the verge of tears. Chou too, has hopped to my shoulder in response to Cira’s emotions, clinging to my ear and obviously concerned.

  “I am sorry.” She starts again in a small voice that I am unused to hearing from her. I can tell she is sincere when her eyes finally meet mine.

  “I had a wonderful time last night, but I don’t think I ever ran into you or Tymon or Vesa or any of our other friends. Of course, I can’t be sure, but it felt a little empty.” She pauses again and I squeeze her hand softly; a comforting gesture. I stay silent though, giving her the space to speak her mind as this seems to be really bothering her.

  “What I’m trying to say,” Cira begins again with a slow intake of breath, “is that I should have let you see my transformation and I would like to see yours next year if you will let me.” The unspoken question hangs in the air between us, her expression turning pleading and a bit sheepish.

  I soften in response to this side of Cira. She always seems so in control of herself, so confident. It must take a great deal of courage for her to admit this to me after the huge fuss she made over it the day before.

  I realize then that I could throw it all back in her face at this moment, but why would I ever want to do that to Cira? From the very beginning we have done nothing but try to help one another, be there for each other, as we make our way through the trials and tribulations of the life of a scribe at the Midnight Court.

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  I move slowly but deliberately to give Chou warning and taking the hint, she takes flight off my shoulder as I embrace Cira in a warm hug. I hear Chou’s soft wing flaps descend and find her resting on Cira’s head as if trying to hug her through Cira’s long chestnut hair. Her butterfly wings flap slowly in her hair and it sparks a memory for me.

  “I don’t mind either way.” I tell her, not yet drawing back from the hug as she returns the embrace. “I think you were right, too, though.” If she is going to be honest with me, it is only right for me to respect her courage and show her the same.

  “This time at least, I think I needed to be on my own.” I give pause to take my own slow, deep breath. “I don’t think I would have known what I am capable of on my own and I think that is really a big part of it.” I pull back from her, wanting to see her face for my next words. “It would not have been possible without your insistence. So, thank you. For challenging me.”

  Relief is plain on her face and her eyes have glossed with unshed tears. I give her a smile and another squeeze of my hand as Chou flutters her wings in her hair. The motion draws my eyes and again my memory stirs. “I think I saw you last night, though. Were you dancing with a green insect gentleman before the Mage’s Waltz?”

  Her eyes go wide with shock. “Gods! Yes, I was!” Her voice is pure excitement. “How do you know it was me though?”

  I shift to pick up Chou, untangling the small creature from Cira’s hair. Chou trills in thanks as I help her onto my shoulder to perch. “I figured it out just now. It was Chou in your hair. You were the one in the butterfly mask with the gold chain veil, right?” I sit back down and look at her questioningly, still not absolutely certain of my guess.

  “Serea, that’s amazing! Yes, that was me! Where were you, then?” Cira’s excitement is contagious and I smile at this, her more normal behavior.

  “I was by the orchestra, waiting to cross the dance floor for a glass of water.” My mind drifts to the voice just after I saw Cira gliding along. I suppress a shiver at the thought of Uriell’s softly confident, deep tones. Softly, I hear Chou’s excited voice in my ear, “Stay grounded, Seretra.”

  I sit straight up at the warning, my hand sneaking past Chou to touch the mark on my neck. My brow furrows when it doesn’t feel hot to me. “Why the warning, Chou? It’s not burning.”

  Chou puts her spindly arms on my hand at my neck. “But all your skin is hot!” She exclaims in a breezy voice.

  “Serea,” Cira cuts in, almost singing my name. I glance warily at her devilish grin with trepidation. “What is it you aren’t telling me?”

  I swallow hard, my mouth gone dry. Why is this so hard to talk about? It was just a dance. And a few more after that. And the stargazing… And the… “I-It’s not important.” I stammer out, trying to convince myself.

  I did a rotten job of it and Cira, too, can smell the deception. Her eyes narrow and she leans in close. Instinctively, I back away from her judging gaze.

  “Serea,” Her voice is still a sickeningly sweet song, but carries a forceful undertone. I continue to back away as she continues to advance. “It is very important that you tell me before I leave or so help me, I will make one of the Court ghosts haunt you for the entire break!” Her statement ends with me on my bed against the far wall with Cira practically nose to nose with me.

  “Okay!” I squeak. “I’ll tell you! Just no ghosts!” Chou flutters over to rest on my head now, as she had fled to the safety of the desk when Cira and I moved.

  Slowly, Cira sits back on her heels on my bed, her face still a serious mask; waiting. I fold my legs in front of me and take a deep breath before recounting what happened with the one who called himself Uriell at the Masquerade. I am red faced and stammering by the time I am done. Cira though is now looking at me with the largest doe eyes I have ever seen.

  “What?” I manage to choke out in response to her weird expression at my embarrassment.

  Her hands clasp on mine as she gushes at me. “Oh, gods, Serea! You fell in love! I’m so excited for you! We have to find this guy! Just like you recognized me!” She erupts in a fit of giggles and her voice turns to a fake whisper. “Except you were much, much closer to Uriell than you were to me.”

  I feel a burn in my cheeks, but I cannot for the life of me, find an argument for this. It’s so hard to think with my heart pounding like it did with his lips on my knuckles or his breath on my lips. I feel the heat now that Chou had warned me of before. Oh, sleeping gods! Am I really in love?

  The thought of it makes my head spin. Especially because of the one thing I could not tell Cira. Namely, the wayward thought of Calas that popped into my head once I realized what Uriell had wanted to do. Why had he stopped, anyway? And why, by the sundered World Tree, would I think of doing that with Calas?!

  One thing she said is true, though. I did tell Ureill I would find out who he was and I have every intention of doing so. No issues there. Except how in all of Akeroth am I to find him? I got lucky with Cira and I tell her so.

  After another fit of her giggles, she goes back to packing and we discuss methods to try to find out who this mysterious man, Uriell, is.