Author's note: "Definitely sooner than 2-3 months, I promise!" Hahahaaaaa. I'm going to stop making promises like that. Anyway uhm, apologies for the unexpected hiatus on this fic. Hopefully life will be a bit more cooperative with me this time around and I'll be able to keep up with it. Apologies, also, for the roughness and shortness of this chapter – mostly I just wanted to get the story going again, so it's briefer than I'd like it to be. Hope you enjoy nonetheless, and as always thanks for reading and everything.

Through These Nights

Chapter 10: Relaxation

Natasha hissed slightly as the warm bathwater creeped up her ankles and chafed by long hours of riding and walking. It was a relief to finally be free of her rough leggings and ragged blouse, but she couldn't seem to set her mind at ease. The lavender and rose seemed only to make her feel more agitated, rather than the relaxation for which they were meant.

She forced her anxiety back, or tried to, at least. You've worked so hard, she told herself, though it rang false even in her own mind. You deserve a rest.

After all, tt wasn't as if the water in the bath could fly to the mouths of the sick and starving she'd seen along the way. If she didn't use it to rinse out the kinks in her hair and scrub the stink and grime and dried blood from her skin, it wouldn't somehow wash the hair of some villager left without clean water or ease the fever of a sick child. There was nothing that could do anything as miraculous as that, she knew, and her mentor had always said to be grateful for the gifts afforded her.

Wickedness thrives in excess, he'd said once, too. Natasha still remembered the afternoon he'd caught her eyeing the richly dyed, gilt-lined fabrics hanging from the carts of vendors in the marketplace. Rejoice in what you have, he'd said then, and covet not.

Natasha felt her back and fingers tense near immediately. There was nothing like excess to describe this – a simple cleric immersed in a deep, hot bath prepared by royal servants, soaked with rich oils and soaps, with a change of clean, soft, rich clothing waiting for her in the corner. She stopped, fingers entangled in her long hair, and sank lower still into the bath.

She couldn't recall how long they were meant to stay in the capital. Part of her wished to leap out of the tub, throw on whatever clothing she happened to grab hold of first, and leave as soon as possible. Another part was finally beginning to realize how soothing the bath water was against her aching back and sore arms, how warm and comfortable the palace was, how much she had missed the feeling of a full belly and a full night's rest.

Natasha leaned back and let her hair fall into the water, staring up and counting the cracks on the ceiling above and trying to clear her mind, to no avail. All she could imagine was the ruined landscape she'd left behind, the shambles still left from houses toppled in the quake, the widows and grieving parents still suffering from the war.

You deserve to rest for a while, she insisted in her mind, only to meet the words herself with no, you don't.

It was useless. There was no way she could just lie there and luxuriate. Perhaps she couldn't leave right that moment as she so dearly wanted to, but she could at least do something, couldn't she?

The water was already tinted gray-brown from dirt as Natasha gripped the edge of the basin and pulled herself out. For a moment, she felt a pang as she imagined what the staff might think – abandoning a bath like that after they'd gone to all the trouble of drawing it for her.

I'll have to apologize later, she thought, before turning away with a shake of her head.

She grabbed the thick towel which had been laid out for her along with the change of clothing. A proper cleric's garb, of course, spared from one of the other sisters, none of whom had been familiar to her. There was nearly no one familiar within the palace's walls or in the surrounding city outside the people she had been traveling with for all that time. Those who'd objected to the war had met their end the same way her mentor had, and those who had not must have gone down with the prince-

Stop. Enough.

She shook her head and gathered the fresh clothing afforded her. Clean underthings, a fresh shirt, thick thick hose suited to the cold ahead, and, of course, the familiar white habit. She dressed in all save the last item, which she held out in front of her and studied for a moment.

There was no doubt she was still a woman of faith, but the sight of the thing made her stomach lurch. All she could think of were the missionaries riding in from other countries, shaking their heads, murmuring about how it all served Grado right after everything.

"May the saints forgive me, then."

Natasha folded the white garment back as neatly as she could and tucked it neatly back where she'd found it.

Natasha's first thought had been to check up on Amelia. After the confrontation with the chancellor, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet all throughout dinner. When she finally found her way back to the guest rooms on the far east wing of the palace, however, Amelia was already fast asleep, curled tight in a bed that had to be far more than a simple soldier could be used to.

It was more than Natasha was used to as well. She couldn't imagine sleeping in such a place. It was somehow even more lush than the accommodations she'd always imagined royals must have. Not that she had much experience with royalty - she was hardly a vital member of Grado's court, and the few monarchs she'd met during the war were in nothing like a position to show her what the life was meant to be like.

She felt a quick twist in her gut as she recalled one of them, the tip of his hat as he turned to head back toward Jehanna, but quickly shook it off.

You have things to do now, she told herself. Things to do here, in your home. Don't linger on such foolish things.

She turned away from the bedroom and followed the sight of the light in the next one over. The door was cracked open just a bit, enough that she could peer in undetected and spy General Duessel, still awake and studying something by the light of an oil lamp at the far corner of the desk he was sitting at. She took a step back, as quietly as possible, and was readying herself to knock on the door when he turned just so slightly to face the cracked-open door.

"Come ahead inside, then," he said, with the same firm warmth in his voice as she'd come to expect. Of course, he'd hear her. It would be too easy to think she could go unnoticed.

Natasha opened the door as quietly as she could, so as not to wake anyone else, and slipped inside, shivering slightly at the chill in the air against her still-wet skin and hair. "My apologies for coming this late; I know you must be tired, General, and I-"

Duessel shook his head and pushed his work to the side - a map, it seemed, to her surprise. She'd imagined a man like Duessel might have Grado's entire landscape committed to memory, after all those years. Yet another foolish thought.

"You should be resting," he said, with the sort of frown that always managed to make her insides lurch with guilt. "Or can't you sleep?"

"No, I just. . . well, I suppose it is that, in a way."

"I'm not surprised. Sit down, lass."

He never failed to make her feel like a child, and Natasha was never quite sure whether or not that was a bad thing. She did as she was told and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

"Hard to get used to, isn't it?" Duessel asked before she could speak again. "Thought about asking to sleep in my old chambers, myself, but. . .I'm sure you understand."

Stiffly, Natasha nodded, unsure of what else she could add.

"I thought it might be nice to come back here again. I suppose I was wrong for the lot of us, wasn't I?"

Despite his words, Duessel didn't seem to be apologizing. He was a man of regrets, Natasha thought, but not of apologies.

"I don't believe you meant ill by it. It's all right. I'm all right."

"Are you really?" Duessel turned to her fully, pushing his work to the side. Natasha felt herself shrink a bit under his gaze, still as intense as she imagined a military commander's had to be. "There's no need to lie, you know. We'll be staying here until Cormag arrives back. There's plenty of time for you to rest."

"I know. It's only. . . ." Natasha drew her arms around herself, hoping it would only look as if the room was too chilly. By the way the corners of his mouth turned down even further, the general was not convinced.

"I understand, I think" He paused for a moment, looking away from her and to the window at his side. "It's looking better and better, but. . . this still isn't the capital we imagined, is it?"

"I expected that. I don't expect things will ever be quite like that again, after all. As much as we'd like it to be, we can't rebuild everything we've lost here, can we?" She'd tried not to think too much about it, but it was often unavoidable. She knew, of course, that not all the clerics she no longer saw around had simply lost their faith or moved on, that every soldier who'd perished in the war had been the member, perhaps the breadwinner, of a family she might have seen along the way. "I still hope that someday Grado might be as strong as it once was, but. . . I do not honestly know how."

Duessel let out a short sigh, as if he'd been holding it in the entire time. "Yes, those were my fears as well. Listen, Natasha. If you find that you cannot sleep here, tonight. . . ."

"I don't believe I can, no." Everything in her wanted to leave the capital again, to ride back out and somehow make up for all that she could not fix. There were too many houses falling apart, too many grieving families to soothe, too many wounds to heal for her to linger like this, but she knew there wasn't much choice in the matter.

"Well, you know, Knoll felt the same way." Natasha forced herself not to cringe. "Perhaps you could go check up on him – might that make you feel better?"

Natasha was almost honest. She wanted to say no, I'd rather not, given how cool he'd been to her when last they'd spoken. But he wasn't too bad, she knew. Not intentionally. She shifted her weight from side to side for a moment, then finally gave a slight nod. "It might," she said, and when Duessel took longer than she expected, she worried that he'd seen right through her. But he only smiled again, if a bit grimly, and reached up to pat her shoulder.

"Right then. I hope it does just that."