A room can be many things: spacious, minimal, cluttered, homey, or organized. The stuff in it and the people that resigned inside matter more than the size of the room; though, it does benefit the size, Cinder thought.

Her room was covered in a sky-blue hue on the walls. The flooring was entirely dark oak wood, only broken by a gray rug spanking her bed to the balcony to the left. Her end tables were cluttered with jewelry and containers, as she had many valuable things from her time in the war. She once won a jade flower that sat upon the corner of her vanity by gambling with a comrade in her squadron in their residency in the Evergreen district. She grabbed the jade flower and examined the crystal petals, the ends of which were either cracked or had scratches all over, though it was better shaped than the less fragile items in her room. She placed the flower on her bed and walked to her balcony door. She laid her face on the wooden frame and then lifted her head to lightly slam her face back at the frame repeatedly. 

It was deep in the middle of the night after the wedding, and despite the frenzy of the reception, sleep evaded her again. She sighed as she pushed herself off the balcony’s door. She paced the floor from the balcony to the main door. To the main door to her bed. She was biting at her nails from her bed to her vanity as she wondered if she could grab a candle and explore the house in the dark by herself. Everyone else was asleep, and she didn’t want to raise any servants from their well-deserved sleep. She bites at her pinkie’s nail but somehow misses the entire nail and bites her finger. She yelps, pulling her finger out. She stared at her now redden pinkie finger and chuckled with a frown. 

A light tapping at the door came about. Cinder reached for the door and twisted the knob before opening the door to a small crack. There resign Kris in a loose blouse and brown pants, a light candle in his hand. Cinder widens the door to poke her face out to him. 

“My lord, what brings you up at this hour?” She asked. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said. 

She flashes a grimace. “I apologize if I woke you up with my pacing.”

“Oh, you did no such thing. It’s my fault, really. I was just going to my office before I heard you yelp. I wanted to see if everything was okay.”

“Your office? What could you possibly do in your office? It’s the dead of the night. Surely, you weren’t planning on working until the morning.”

Kris looked down to the hall. “I might have some things in the backlogs to go through to fill time. Sleep is not getting any closer to me, as I suspect the same is for you.” 

Cinder smiled. “Guilty.” She showed her hand with the reddish pinkie. “I was biting at my nails but ended up nearly ripping off my pinkie.”

He extended his hand. “May I?” Cinder placed her hand on his; he examined the finger. “I could fetch some cold water and a rag to help the swelling.” 

I would be an awful leader if I made anyone but myself fetch something in the dark."

"Well, it's better use of your time than staying caught up in your office. Thank you." 

Kris bowed. "I'll be back."

Cinder nodded and closed the door. She turned to the room and laid her back against the door. She covered her mouth before she started giggling. She didn't know why, but she was giggling up a storm. She thought for a second how honorable that man could be, going so far as to grab water for one single pinkie finger. He's too much for his own good, so good that he didn't realize she was in her nightgown. Her single nightgown. She went to grab a robe hanging off her bed before she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She gazed upon it, and her smile went sour as she looked at her body. She had a good body, she always told herself. It resulted from all her hard work, but was it enough? She didn't have the same stature as the other women at the reception; their waists were tiny that Cinder couldn't recreate even with the corset. And their shoulders were less broad than hers. She was taller, too. However, some cis women looked like her, so why is she feeling conscious? She was beautiful and sexy; she knew it. But she couldn't say it out loud at this moment. 

She wrapped the robe around herself. She bites at her nails again, wondering if she thinks all this because it has been so long since she let someone new into her space, especially a man. But Kris wasn't like that at all. He probably had no intention outside helping out with her finger. To Cinder's relief, he suggested not sharing a room for their wedding night. Yes, she thought, he's not interested in her like a woman. 

She winced. "That's an awful thought. Gods, hurry up, Kris," She said. 

Her prayers were answered when a light tapping at the door happened again. Kris was jugging a small water bowl in one hand as he held the candle and ran in the other. Cinder nearly laughed at the sight. She took the bowl from his clutch as he switched the rag into his newly free hand.

 He extended the rag. "I recommend soaking the rag wrapped around your finger instead of soaking it inside the bowl. I don't want your finger to get too cold."

"I assure you, my pinkie dealt with worse," she said. 

Kris scoffed. “Cold water on this chilling night is no joke, my lady. It’s crucial for y-”

“I get it, I get it,” She said with a smile as she grabbed the rag. 

“Then I’ll take my leave,” he said. Cinder stopped herself from inquiring if he wasn’t coming in. She knew better. 

“I appreciate your help,” she said. 

“Goodnight, my lady. I hope sleep finds you sooner than me,” he said before bowing and taking his leave.

“Goodnight,” Cinder called back to him before closing the door. 

She took Kris’s instructions and sat at her vanity, holding the cold rag to her pinkie. She gazes at the rag; it has an embroidery of roses. She found it sweet that it was a rose when the man who handled it was far from it. He was more like an ivy: dependable and desperately needed color. 

The morning after, the only evidence of the exchange between each other was the light red tint left on the pinkie finger. To which Olivia heavily examines despite Cinder’s complications. Olivia places an ice cube on the swelling with a slight frown. Cinder could only huff and puff as Olivia questioned what on gods’ earth she did to cause her pinkie to swell so much—cinder answered with more and more strange situations for her pinkie to get. 

“I was drunk and managed to trip in my room, but by the strength gathered by years of harsh training and tedious lessons, I saved myself by landing on my pinkie and lifting myself up,” Cinder said. 

“Cinder, do you truly expect me to believe any of that nonsense?”

“I expected you to be happy to know I traded my pinkie for my life,” She answered, twisting her hand to hold Olivia’s. “I wouldn’t get to see you, so worry for my sake.”

“I spend most of your life worrying for you. You’re so hard-headed that I’m scared you might end up dead one day.”

Cinder almost laughed at the thought. Her? Dead? She would just be repeating history again. However, her reawakening and her death haven’t been a sore spot for her in years. During her late years before the war, she had so much burning rage and pain after coming back. She couldn’t sleep for weeks, replaying her head falling down on the ground. There was absolute fear on her father’s face when he realized he was not untouchable as he loved to act. Yet, now, here she sat, mellow out. She looks back at her former death as it was inevitable in hindsight; you could be fighting against being chained to a wall before the laws of physics choke you out. She fought a losing fight; it was only natural she lost. Now she looks at it with a sick humor about it. 

What stays sore in her heart is always worries, as if she was precious. Cinder placed Olivia's hand on her cheek. "I can't die then despite my hard-headedness. So don't worry so much about me," Cinder said. 

"Cinder."

"Truly, I'm fine," she took the hand off her face. "Besides, I'm a newlywed. These few weeks should be happy."

"Ah yes, Duke Ironheart," Olibia said. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her apron. "His Lordship handed me this to give you when visiting your room."

Cinder grabbed the letter: 

I hope you are alright.

Signed, Ironheart.

It read. Cinder smiled as she rolled her eyes. 

"He almost scared me half to death when he stopped me in the hallway. I couldn't believe he remembered my name, let alone my face. He was rather straightforward with the whole ordeal; honestly, I thought you got in trouble already in your marriage," Olivia said. 

"Oh, he's just like that," Cinder said. She got up from her bed. "Some folks in our squadron call him the little fairy because he would leave notes for the inquired soldiers, thanking them for their service, among others." 

"How honorable."

Cinder chuckled, "Really, he's harmless for his size."

"I take note of that when I almost die of a heart attack again," Olivia scoffed. 

"I'll die before I let that happen," Cinder snapped as she turned to her. Olivia took a step back from Cinder, causing her to blink. Cinder released the tension hiding on her face before chuckling it away. "I meant, I'll bring it up with Kris once I see him again, so he doesn't scare you again." She rubbed the back of her neck, removing her eyes from her face and moving away from her bed. "I'll dress myself for today," she added. 

"My dear, are you alright?" Olivia asked. 

“I think my nerves are just up, that’s all. You can go now. I’m going to see how the others are finding everything.”

Oliva nodded before leaving the room. Cinder sighed before throwing her nightclothes on the bed, grinding her teeth as she cursed herself for snapping like a caged beast. She rubbed her shoulders as she turned over to her mirror once again. She repeats to herself that she’s in a somewhat safe place. What is she tense about? All she has to do is follow this out, and everything will be fine. She knows that this is her best gambit than any other options. She breathes out a long sigh again before getting dressed again.

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