Chapter 24
Leona awoke to the smell of jasmine tea, and stretched her limbs. It was sunny today, and never cold; she peeled off the covers and padded around her chambers as she did every morning. The ladies were already there, and despite the sun it looked like they were setting up to stay inside today. They were pressing oils and flowers from the gardens into a poultice, laughing and chatting as they worked. Leona's heart beat faster at the sight of them, but as they were still ignoring her, she bypassed them to the tub area for some morning ablutions.
On her return, she passed through the sitting room to gather some fresh clothes. As she turned, she was shocked to see a man on the large cushions against the West wall. A man? How many years had it been since she'd seen, let alone thought of, a man? He had clearly been watching her closely, and was eyeing her intently now. She was not threatened – had forgotten how to be threatened – so she stood there, staring at him. She knew him. She knew this man.
He spoke.
"Leona," he said. That was her name. "Leona. It has been sixteen days. Do you remember?"
She remembered something, but wasn't sure about sixteen anything. She remembered one, two –
Just then the three ladies from her room came into view, surprised as she was but also unthreatened, and unconcerned. They turned her away towards the bedroom, and she went, thinking only of the promise of warm flowery oil and the bliss of emptiness. But it was the act of turning away that jarred her. She had turned away from this man before. She felt unpleasant inside, as if a shard were inside her heart. Again. She had had a shard inside her heart, once. He had helped her take the shard out. He had saved her life. She turned her head around and said, "Casavir." He smiled as if reassured, and got up and followed them. Leona found herself relieved that he would stay. She didn't want him to leave. This was a new kind of craving, and there were only two states of being. How could there be a third?
The ladies placed Leona face-down on the bed, as if to block her wandering eyes. She did not turn her head, but found her vision blocked at all times by three bodies, so she relaxed into the six-handed massage. Craving was clear, and uncomplicated. The man could stay. He would stay.
Casavir was fascinated. Having been in the Manor for so long, and then away from it, he saw with new eyes. He understood with clarity each and every move the ladies made, and could smell the sense-enhancing magic on the air. Like Leona, he was there by choice, and he trusted their friends to take them away when the day was done. Until then, he could do what he hadn't done on his sixteenth day: succumb because he wanted to, not because there was no other choice. Through this, he was redeemed. Tyr said that wounds you choose do not instruct, he thought. But I have learned so much in just this moment.
But, wait.
This is no longer a wound.
Leona, eyes closed and body relaxed, suddenly jumped as if jolted with electric shock. There was a fourth pair of hands on her, and they were different than the others. These hands were bigger, rougher, and more adoring. The man. She knew this man's hands. She pulled up off her stomach to face him, look at him again. She looked up at the man through the maze of hands, and saw that his eyes were wet. "I want to see your face," she said. "Let me see your face."
He looked at her a long minute, and then lied down beside her.
"You are Casavir," she said. He put his forehead to hers, as if testing her for fever.
"Do you know why I am here?"
She squinted at him, opened her mouth, then shut it again. Then she moved her own hands to his face. "Sixteen days," she said.
"Yes. It's day sixteen. We have today, and then we will go home."
"Together."
"Together."
Then six hands enveloped them, and there were only two states of being: craving, and release.