Whisper and Rise by Jamie Day

breathe. I wrestled in my sheets before reluctantly allowing my eyes to adapt to the day.
    It felt strange waking in my own bedroom again. It was as if everything I owned had been moved and returned to their same places. I examined my sandals, my clothes, my dresser, and even the walls to make certain I was truly there. Outside my door, I heard the hushed voices of Leila and Ethan and their attempts to convince our mother to allow them to enter my room. After their words faded and stomping on the stairs announced their failure, Mother peered inside. I stared back, unwilling to reveal any emotion.
    “You’re awake,” she whispered. She slid inside and gently closed the door behind her. She stepped softly to my bedside and smiled. “How are you feeling?”
    I shrugged.
    “Are you injured?”
    I shook my head. Her persistence was suffocating. She felt like a stranger to me. We had always been close, the trials of our past had driven us apart, perhaps more than I’d realized. My mother’s cool reception from last night made me painfully aware how far we had drifted apart. I tried to look past her and out my window, but she moved to block my view. She stepped back, still watching me, and turned to leave.
    “When you’re willing to talk, you will find me in the kitchen.”
    Mother is always in the kitchen. I closed my eyes, annoyed at her overly friendly tone. Her words may have been kind and well meaning, but I knew that she meant. Her attitude toward me was clearly telling me, “talk to me or I’ll make your day painful.” As she left me alone, I wondered how far into the day I could remain in my bed without angering my father. I didn’t want to cause a conflict, but I also wanted to avoid one by wandering into a swarm of questions at the morning meal.
    Despite the urges of my stomach, and the welcoming scent of Mother’s cooking, I decided not to eat and prepared to take a much-needed bath. Father ended that plan when I wandered down to retrieve a cauldron of hot water.
    “If you’re home for good, then go feed the horses,” he ordered, wiping cider off his beard.
    I didn’t dare look to Mother for support. Instead, I nodded and returned to my room to change into a work dress. Though I was home, this place didn’t feel the same as it once had. No one understood my emotions and no one seemed to care that I was suffering.
    The day was lonely, and the work was harder than I had remembered. A few times I caught myself staring across the field, toward Taylor’s Ridge, daring myself to wander away and seek the solitude of a new life there. My doldrums and daydreams stretched the morning and when noon arrived, I was still filling the troughs. I thought it couldn’t get worse; I knew the day had something better to offer, especially after the previous night. I was wrong.
    As I heaved another load over the fence, the distinct sound of Leila giggling carried from the other side of the stable. I scooped a handful of hay into a trough and peered around the walls to investigate. My sister sat in the long grass, facing her friend Michael Dunn with a smile as large as the sun. She saw me before I could duck away.
    “Hello, Rhiannon.” Her voice was perfectly polite. “Welcome home.” Michael whispered something in her ear, and she giggled again.
    Then Michael spoke. “Would you like some help, Rhiannon?”
    “No, thank you,” I called back, trying not to sound angry. “Have you finished your chores, Leila?”
    Her face appeared from around the corner of the stable. “Father relieved me for the day. I’m preparing for the Sun Season Celebration.” Her cheerful voice seemed to mock me.
    The pain of my exile from the Fae throbbed with such renewed intensity I could find no words for either bland pleasantry or sarcastic retort. The celebration dances had been part of me for so long that without them, I felt empty. Hollow. I turned to face away from my sister and closed my eyes, remembering the days and nights I had