The week had been unusually restful for me. My days were filled with a comforting routine: I ate breakfast with Alia, engaging in light conversation that lifted my spirits. Afterward, I would retreat to my room for a nap, savoring the tranquility. Lunch would follow, a modest meal that barely stirred my appetite. I would then drift back into sleep, only to wake for dinner, another uneventful repast. The day would end as it began, with me sinking into the familiarity of my bed, allowing sleep to claim me once more. This repetitive cycle brought a strange sense of peace, though it also left me feeling oddly restless.
Despite the ease of my days, I felt an itch to break the monotony and engage in something more productive. I resolved to step out of my comfort zone and tackle some work. Determined, I selected a book on magic, hoping to delve into attack spells. Yet, as I flipped through the pages, I realized they were far from my forte. The complex runes and incantations seemed foreign and unwelcoming, as if they belonged to a different world entirely.
My gratitude toward Teon lingered, a sentiment I struggled to express. He had been so generous, yet, since our arrival, he had been absent. Alia mentioned that he had gone somewhere, but she did not elaborate further. I found myself puzzled by his sudden departure and perplexed as to why he hadn't informed me of his plans. It seemed unlike him to leave without a word, especially given how considerate he had been up to that point.
In an attempt to occupy my mind, I immersed myself in reading anything I could get my hands on. Yet, the sense of incompleteness gnawed at me. I longed to return to my work, to sink my teeth into tasks that gave me a sense of purpose. The constant interference of the Rosens in my life, even after I had managed to escape their grasp, left me feeling bitter. It was as if their shadow loomed over every aspect of my existence, even when I was no longer tied to their name.
Sometimes, my thoughts took a darker turn. I imagined what it would be like to die and somehow return to my past life. If such a thing were possible, I would infiltrate the Rosen household and work as a spy for Alden. It seemed a more fulfilling path than the endless cycle of labor that felt so meaningless. At least in that life, there would be a purpose, a reason for my struggles beyond the mundane drudgery I faced now.
"Fay," I heard and turned to look down. It's been a while, but I'm still feeling shy. "What are you doing?" Teon asked. I stood up and looked down at him, trying to ignore the weird feeling in my stomach.
"Nothing," I said.
"Do you want to see something fun?" he asked. Last time I heard that, I got a wolf as a pet.
"What?" I asked, and he smiled, opening his hands.
"Jump," he said. Are we going to make a habit of jumping from a balcony? I sighed and looked back in my room where Tyler was sleeping.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"You'll see," he replied, and I shook my head, climbing the railing. The stairs have lost their purpose, thanks to Teon.
I sighed, willing my weak body to be strong, and jumped. I felt dizzy the moment I let go. The timing was just wrong. If I faint in front of Teon or worse, have a seizure, I'll have to explain why and tell them the truth. Is it really too late?
...
I opened my eyes slowly, each movement feeling deliberate and labored. As my vision cleared, I recognized the familiar surroundings of my room—my sanctuary amid the chaos. Despite this, an overwhelming heaviness enveloped my entire body. Every attempt to move felt like wading through thick molasses; my limbs were unresponsive, as though I were paralyzed. The effort to shift even a finger seemed insurmountable, and the sensation of being trapped within my own body was both alarming and frustrating.
"Fay," I heard Teon's voice. I turned and saw him sitting beside my bed. "Are you okay?" he asked. What do I say?
"I…" Should I just tell him? "I'm fine," I said, forcing myself up. "I'm probably still feeling exhausted from traveling for so long," I said, forcing a smile.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm fine," I said.
"I'll have someone come to examine you tomorrow. We couldn't get the manor's physician, but he'll be here tomorrow," Teon said.
"It's fine," I said. He looked reluctant but nodded and said,
"Okay, rest up."
I lay back down, craving the bed more than I ever did. Teon put the covers on properly and turned to leave.
I feel a pang of guilt every time I lie, but the truth is that I'm not ready for them to find out—at least, not yet. The weight of my deception sits heavily on my shoulders, but the prospect of revealing my condition before I have a clear solution seems unbearable. My resolve is to keep my struggle hidden for now. I'm clinging to the hope that there might still be a chance to remedy my situation, and as long as there's a glimmer of possibility, I prefer to keep my silence. It feels like a fragile thread of hope that I can't afford to break. The idea of sharing my predicament before I have a definitive answer is daunting. If I lose hope entirely and find myself without options, then and only then will I confide in them. For now, it seems wisest to wait until I've found a cure or a solution. I want to spare them the worry and confusion that my condition might bring, and to preserve whatever semblance of normalcy I can before the truth inevitably comes to light.
I turned and closed my eyes, falling asleep immediately.