Thoughts are like white noise which is getting on my nerves, but I can’t turn off the radio or switch to another station.

In the coolness of the hall I am more relaxed, but my cheeks are still blushing. I cannot imagine how I will manage to get over all these events: one moment I feel quite fine as if accepted my new state of things; some time later I can’t get myself to trust anyone. Like a pray animal who is dashing sideways with crazy eyes when is chased by a muscular lioness. But when a perilous moment is over, it is chewing the grass placidly: “I’m cool. Life’s good.”

Kaleb was right: I found it immediately. I am just going to her chambers, my feet carrying me.

I’m at her door:

Come on! It’s not an exam room! Just knock at this dumb door!

My heart is beating furiously; not sure if I want to see her.

Of course, she is not in. Nobody has replied yet. I’m waiting: firstly, standing straight, then touching the door surface with my forehead.

I may go to blondie as well, and ask him to find her, but meet his loyal puppy eyes is a great torture (He might be lying. Be careful, stupid me! Max was a good actor too); explore the surroundings and accidentally kill one of the servants with my less-than-powers if they happen to appear around the corner of this Minotaur maze and scary me? I need this amulet. And I need to see her.

“Marig...khm..ghm..May I come in?”

Silence.

“I’m coming anyways, because it’s my castle, and I can go wherever I want!”

What if not?

Her room is like a quite island in a screaming bright ocean of classic decor. It doesn’t create gallery effect as my own. Nice and neat just like her owner it doesn’t have many furniture pieces or decorations like mirrors, vases or pictures. There is no balcony but a big window (I have a deja vu feeling because of my last vision). Selina was right it has the best view of the planet that is already spreading subtle shades of blue light mixing with yellow sun rays; altogether they are coming through flax curtains. In the left hand corner there is a white wooden bed with a light baldakin above (I can still see the imprint of her body against vanilla bed sheets, as if she left her bed a second ago) and a small vanity with a round mirror above. On my right is an old-fashioned secretaire with little drawers, shelves, and pigeonholes full of letters, manuals, books, and scrolls. It’s probably the only place in the room that has lovely artistic disorder.

One of the drawers is half open, and I sneakily look into it. There are some small animal figures like totems made of stone, glass and, probably, bones. Out of sudden I notice a small figure of hare resembling mine. Without thinking, I take the hare out.

“Avis? What are you doing here?”

I’m springing; the hare has almost slipped from my hands down. Zarya is standing behind me hastily wrapped in a white towel. Having just got out of the bath, her body is glowing and emitting warmth. The bathroom door stands open, and the chamber feels like a pine forest after a soft summer rain. Her wet curly locks are falling on her shoulders; one naughty coil of hair is covering her orange eye and crossing a cheek. Here and there tiny dewdrops are seen on her olive skin. One drop of water falls from her ringlet and stays on her upper lip. I have a strange desire to brush it slightly with the tip of my finger.

“Avis?” she’s looking at me keenly but tenderly. Still tenderly. She’s a bagful of patience.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be an intruder. Kaleb told me you have my Birdhouse amulet,” it is the first time I pronounce his real name aloud. Zarya seems to notice it as well, for her expression is undergoing two stages: from surprise to sadness. “I’ll wait outside until you are ready.”

“You don’t need to,” she’s touching her neck: one hand is trying to unlock the clasp of the chainlet; another is pulling her towel up. “Will you please help me? The lock is, probably, stuck.”

She can expel a ghost with a light wave, but can’t unlock the clasp?

“Has Kaleb told you anything about powers?” she asked me curiously.

“Not so much. I’m afraid. Some basics,” I pause and draw a deep breath. “It’s for my power issues mostly.”

Zarya sits on the edge of her bed, “Light waves?”

I nod:

“They are terrible.”

“The amulet will be of a great help,” she says compassionately, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Oh, I want to talk about everything. If only I could trust you, a marigold girl.

“I’m fine. Which one is mine?” I sit behind her and watch at two absolutely similar amulets on thin chainlets. They are tangled slightly, that’s why it was hard for her to separate them.

“The darker one.”

I’m not comfortable and can’t concentrate on this simple task. My mouth is dry, and I have a lump in my throat as if I want to cry without any reason.

She is so warm and welcoming. I suppress my present desire to lean on her back, wrap my arms around her and tell about Max and my night in Botanical Gardens, about my parent and Tanya...

Waite a minute! Where have they been when I was lying like a dummy for crush tests, while Max was doing some creepy stuff nearby? Did they just leave me alone after pushing me to a new reality? Or they just watched that night forest scene in a bush munching some popcorn?

I am passing my tongue over painfully dry lips. The chainlet is on my palm: simple oval charm is adjacent to it. It is boringly flat and has no signs, runes or decorations.

“Shall I help you with it,” Zarya is turning to me.

“I’ll do it later myself,” I continue watching the amulet. “May I ask you a question about Avis?”

“Of course, you may!”

“Were you close with her?”

“Sure we are close. We know each other for thirteen years. We studied together and worked in one team.”

“You and Avis; not me and you,” her answer doesn’t satisfy me or clarify my dreams and visions about her. “And what about Kaleb and Avis?”

“Same...As far as I know,” she answers reluctantly.

A vicious circle of answers that doesn’t help. They know more about Avis than I, but I’m terribly shy asking for more delicate details.

“Do you have a yellow dress?”

She’s surprised, “No, I don’t have any yellow dresses and actually never had.”

It is warm in the room, but I’m chilling. She has no yellow dress. My dreams about her are not the memories from the past!

“... Oh, I understand! You want to borrow a dress? We’d better order a new one for you. I know how you love dresses...”

I’m not listening. I can’t tell what is real.