It was hard to explain. She was nobody to him, yet incredibly precious to him. Her existence was as integral to the world as that of the sun and stars, an entity without which nature would fall out of alignment. An entity without which his life would fall out of alignment.
“Come with you where?” she asked.
“To the palace. Live with me there.”
She shrunk back. “I don’t think your family will be very pleased with the idea of having a Suveri in their abode.”
No, they wouldn’t. His father would move him to the nearest asylum if he ever voiced such an idea. He’d lose the throne, the support of every minister, his reputation, his money, and all his peace of mind. But Sebestyén needed to keep an eye on Rea. Needed her close. Wanted to spend his mornings and afternoons and evenings with her.
“Then write to me. Anytime you feel lonely, write to me. I’ll come and see you.”
“I’m a Suveri. I can’t write,” she reminded.
“Then draw. Send me a picture.”
“And how would I deliver a drawing to you? You’re an archduke.”
Good point. More and more, it seemed both impractical and impossible for their association to continue beyond summer. Sebestyén didn’t understand it himself, this reluctance to part from her, as if leaving her side was like severing an arm.
Spring had metamorphosed into summer in the blink of an eye and their relationship, which had already been wavering in the spring, had dried up to nothing in summer. But now more than ever, with responsibilities and inadequacies pressing at him from every quarter, he needed a distraction. Winter, when he ascended the throne, when he married a woman he scarcely knew, he’d need her quick quips and calm philosophies the most. They had to remain in each other’s life.
Somehow. Anyhow.
“Isn’t there a tattoo that can help?” he asked.
She blinked like she was sure she misheard him. “Surely, general, you can’t be so bored as to consider getting a useless tattoo just to communicate with me.”
“I’m not bored at all,” said Sebestyén, well aware of how taboo tattoos were among Alisians.
They were a symbol of the Suveri, a symbol of corruption and being subhuman. Getting one was considered akin to a slow descent into depravity.
And yet, once he’d studied them, he understood they meant more. Pictures on the skin that sketched out a person’s identity, a person’s life, a person’s power, a person’s skill.
Like Rea has said when they’d first met; tattoos were art.
“Will you do it?” he asked. “If there’s a way?”
“There is a way. It’s a very rare tattoo. I forget its name. It can’t communicate words, but when two people have the tattoo, they can sense each other’s pain. Even among the Suveri, it’s almost unheard of for someone to get this tattoo.”
“Are you able to ink it?” he asked.
“You cannot be serious, general!” Rea exclaimed. “Why would you go so far for the sake of keeping in touch with me?”
Because I don’t want this to be the last time we meet and I’m running out of excuses to see you.
Because I find you fascinating.
Because I don’t understand it but being around you restores me.
None of those thoughts deserved expression, insensible as they were. Terrifying as they sounded.
He finally said, “Because I want to.”
Because I need to keep meeting you.
“It’ll hurt more than you can imagine,” she said. “Your skin will be shredded, bled, scarred and swollen. You’ll scream and cry and plead for me to stop. You might even try to wring my neck when I refuse to heed to your request. And once the tattoo is inked, there’s no way to erase it.”
Sebestyén gulped feeling sweat trickle down his right ear. He was not someone who made decisions lightly. “I want to do it. If you’ll let me.”
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Are you insane?”
“Again, not to my knowledge.”
“Then you should ponder over it some more.”
“I’ve given it all the thought I ought to.”
His pigheadedness was uncharacteristic. He never gave in to momentary impulses and incomprehensible emotions. He didn’t buy into sentimental promises or fall prey to foolishness. He didn’t take absurd risks to prove his commitment to a cause. And he never gave his word unless he fully intended to keep it. Yet he was breaking all his rules. For her.
“Winter, then. Once my cottage is built. If you still feel the same way, visit me in the winter, and I shall oblige your request.”
“Winter is still long ways away,” he complained.
“Time can only benefit your attitude,” she replied.
“I never go back on my word.”
“You haven’t given me your word yet. In fact, I’d advise you not to.”
“I won’t change my mind, Rea.”
“That, only time will tell.”
Rea
Post-recovery, the general darkened her door frequently throughout summer.
Sometimes, he brought his chess board. Other times, he came bearing gifts of food. But on one particular day, he brought a guest with him. Pointing at the other man, a fair-haired gentleman with youthful features and a devilish gleam in his eye, the general said, “This is archduke—”
“I’m his brother Arnold,” the man cut in. “I followed him here, eager to meet the woman who has been taking up so much of his time.”
“That’s the gist of it.” The general didn’t seem amused by his brother’s antics. “You may feel free to refuse him entry. After all, this is your home.”
Rea, though, warmed up to the general’s brother quickly. He was a man with the spirit of a child and such people were never malicious.
“I would like to welcome him instead,” she said. “Though I don’t have much to offer in the way of refreshments suitable for an archduke.”
“Don’t worry…miss…um…what should I call you?”
“Rea,” Rea said.
“Miss Rea,” Sebestyén talked over her glaring at his brother.
“Miss Rea it is, since I don’t intend to die by my brother’s hands,” said Arnold, hopping into her room like a curious sprite taking in the cracked walls and empty exterior with wonder. He really was a child, that one. “I see my brother has kept you in destitution. He has always been bad at taking care of people he loves. He neglected me for years when I was young. Ah, I was so lonely.”
Sebestyén choked and Rea laughed, tickled to see such a novel expression on his face. Sometimes, in moments like that, when it seemed like looking at him would shatter her, Rea’s heart ached mysteriously. His constant presence was a boon to her in the summer, and when she spent long hours in his company, she nearly forgot about how easily she could’ve fled this city with Mama Yurel.
“I live on my own here,” Rea said to his brother. “And the state of this room is a reflection of my own lack of resources since I don’t earn much.”
“Oh.” Arnold winced like he’d been scalded. “I didn’t think you were a woman of independent means.”