River got held back in bed for about a week at the healer’s greystone building. They buried her under fresh sprigs of white roses after washing its flowers, and the feel of it against her skin was icy to the touch.

Just as she remembered, Hell’ina was in her usual severe mood. With not a smile in place whenever she appeared at her bedside. The elder healer wore a fluffy white sweater with her grey hair styled into a crowning braid. Her deepset frown was all the more prominent whenever she so much as look at River’s direction. They situated her to the corner bed with a divider set in place so she can’t see the rest of the healer’s patients.

But as days passed on, she was beginning to think that it was more for their sake than hers. Everytime a tribesperson glanced her way, they frowned as if they had missed the fact that they needed to dump out their garbage earlier that morning.

On the bright side, U’tu visits her every morning and every night with more freshly washed white flowers to put over her blankets. He would sit at her bedside in silence, but in truth, they conversed in mind-speak. No one seemed to suspect a thing about it. And U’tu wanted it to continue that way. It was essential that no one find out about her mind-speaking ability. It was a special ability now extinct in their world ever since their dark majesty took on the mantle for all princely duties.

The flowers are nice, she said to him. Can’t we put it on a vase instead?

His face was blank, his fingers curling to a fist. No, it stays over you.

She sat up on her bed, slowly. White roses fell in a pool around her hips. Can I ask why?

He gave a sharp exhale, shaking his head. I shouldn’t have come.

But you do. Everyday. It helps. I’m grateful for your visits. Have I told you recently I’m really grateful for you saving my life?

Yes. Every time.

Well, I am. When I get better—

You won’t get better. he said, looking out the window.

Why? Did you hear something from Hell’ina? She won’t speak to me. Not one lick of a word ever since we arrived here.

He stared down at her throat where a raised horizontal scar portruded. It was a miracle. Never had she seen an injury of hers heal so quickly on its own. However, the tribespeople she ever came across looked to it with complete disdain, almost disappointment. She dislikes the severed. He told her.

Severed?

He lifted a hesitant hand around her throat, skimming his thumb over the raised scar. As tribespeople, a deep injury like this will have entirely severed your healing ability. But they managed to save it. Barely. You heal too slow. It is effectively making you mortal. They are under the impression of you being a mortal tribespeople and they can’t stand it. The healers don’t like to see it, most especially, the stink of your mortality. It’s the gravest assault to the senses. To add to that, this healing facility is known to be exceptional across all lands. It’s supposed to be and yet here you are. An evidence to their shortcomings. Your severed condition doesn’t bode well for them. You’re an anomaly.

She looked down, suddenly embarassed. The sting of his words, surprisingly, was a welcome anchor to reality. That makes me severed, then. Is that really what they call me?

He shook his head, irritation crossing his expression. Anyone with eyes will know you’re severed. An injury like this cuts off your healing power. No one will doubt that.

I feel fine.

You don’t look fine.

She shrugged with a dismissive wave of a hand, I’ll wear a scarf over it, then.

He pulled up his leather backpack from the floor, grabbing a handful of orange fabric in his hand. It was a scarf and he placed it on her lap. Rising as he pushed to his feet, he wound his backstrap over one shoulder. This will be the last time. I won’t be coming back.

I appreciate all that you do. I just wish I could return the favor.

I don’t think you will live long enough for that. If you truly are behagthi, then you won’t have a chance. However, if you truly wish to live, then you must stay silent from now on. The things that make you different, it will be understood to be symptoms of your severed condition. If they see your scar, they will know why you act so different. Those outside of healers will help you. They will. It’s not usual we get to see a severed. But when we do, we help them in any way we can.

I understand. Do you know when I can leave here?

He tipped his chin down, hands resting behind his back. Earlier this morning.

What? I could have left. Damn it. she said, lurching to her feet. Roses crumpling down to the floor. I didn’t realize I was overstaying my welcome.

I thought you understood.

Let’s just say I’m not exactly from around here and there are many many things I’m not exactly knowledgeable in, she huffed, struggling to put on leather boots Hell’ina gave to her. Not to mention no one else ever spoke to her for the last couple weeks.

You didn’t know that a maximum healing stay per patient is 14 days? Has no one told you about this?

No, she bit her lip. Is that why everyone has been giving me the stink eye?

A slight tilt in the corner of his lips vanished as quickly as it came. You leave for the weaver’s. Incoming tribespeople from all parts go there first before getting housed.

Don’t I need to pay for that? I’m not sure how I’m goin—

No need. he interrupted her and placed a coin-sized bronze pin with a symbol of a wolf etched on it. It’s a student insignia. Show them this and they’ll know where to put you.

Will Lei’la be there?

Shadows fell over his face, shoulders dropping and he looked away. Perhaps.

When he paused in a long moment, she followed the direction of his gaze. Right above an empty bed hung a red blanket that a had lower arc. It was a red spider creation blanket, the details of the myth weaved in orange and black stitches. It’s beautiful, she said.

His smile held a lot of pride. Yeah. That’s Lei’la.

U’tu?

Yeah?

I don’t know how I will ever be able to show my gratitude to Hell’ina for saving me from almost dying.

He sighed and moved to her bed to pick up a bunch of rose sprigs in his arms, You’re behagthi. You’ll find a way. Here, hold this.

Dumping more white roses than she has ever held in her arms, she finally asked. Do I need to hold this many?

This way you won’t surprise people with your injury. A lot of tribespeople are going to wonder why you will be walking so slow in the streets. I see how you move, it isn’t like ours.

She followed on his heels when he turned to leave, So the white roses are a way of me announcing I’m severed?

No. These white roses are for the superstitious ones. Hurry faster.

They emerged in the empty avenue paved with greystones. The city looked dreary in the day. It was cloudy and downright chilly. No wonder thick sweaters were the norm to wear. She peered down to her own pristine sweater and bottom pajamas. I am hurrying faster. You just have like really long legs. U’tu’s growth spurt shot him up to a level of giants. He looked to be at Aidan’s height by now.

He glanced back at her. Do you need to be carried?

She frowned, eyes narrowing at him. Death first.

His startled laughter stopped someone in his tracks. A little boy appeared in a whoosh, flashing in front of them in a single second as if struck by the beauty of stars from seeing U’tu. “Galiyo luna” he said with a two-finger salute.

“Hush,” he murmured to the boy. “Get going now.”

The boy’s eyes widened when it landed on River. “Are you behagthi?” he whispered.

U’tu gave a terse chuckle. “Don’t be saying nonsense.“

He flinched, paling at U’tu’s words. “I’m sorry I didn’t think—“

“No, you didn’t. Do better and listen to your elders. Otherwise don’t speak at all. Leave.”

River’s words lodged in her injured throat, surprised at U’tu’s hair trigger mood.

When the boy left, U’tu’s back straightened, seeming lost in his thoughts. He glanced back at her with a long-suffering sigh, “Fuck.”

What?

His jaw tensed as he eyed her hair that had turned silver-white from a drugging apple and said “You’re supposed to be wearing a crown.“