"Is that all for today Mr. Lester?" I ask between drawn out pants, steadying my legs with my hands as I double over.

My instructor gives me a blank stare, picking up his binder to make notes about the session and my progress.

"What's up with you today, kiddo?" he asks me, a flash of concern flits across his expression, "You've been acting weird since the other day. And now you're voluntarily asking for more practice drills."

"I mean yeah—" I shrug, subtly scrutinizing all The Glade members I could see.

I frown to myself, cracking the nitrogen bubbles in my joints without thinking. No one has made any kind of attempt to contact me since I found that chit inside my school backpack at Fortescue's Frozen Treats a couple of days ago.

It's making me jumpy, unusually suspicious of every person that I see looking at me for more than a couple of seconds. And I know they're watching me, it doesn't take Elon Musk to figure that out. They know that the ball is in their court and they're using it to their advantage. And that bristling feeling, of not knowing, unnerves me greatly.

"Time to go home, Ariya." Lester pats the back of my head lightly, "See you on Saturday, sharp at six."

I sigh to myself as Lester makes his way to the adjacent training ring to have a word with the well-built and incredibly intimidating looking woman punching a sandbag. I have a feeling that she's his daughter because of their uncanny resemblance.

Completing my finishing stretches in silence, I change out of my gym clothes and head out of the old building that The Glade is located in and trudge to the bus stop to catch the eight o' clock bus.

When I reach home, I fling my gym bag onto the sofa in the drawing room and settle down into the subtle depression forming in the cushion near the armrest.

"You're home, good." Dad peeks out from his study, "Nathaniel requested to have a vegetarian dinner today so we'll be having thick lentil soup, brown rice and salad. You'll get your required protein and vitamins so I suppose that should be okay."

"Cool, I'm bored of eating boiled chicken and greens anyway." I shrug in response, "Who's cooking though?"

Dad and I stare at each other, a little sheepishly, since we both know we're terrible cooks.

I chuckle aloud.

"We could just ask Merde to buy some frozen food from the supermarket and heat it or there's always YouTube." I suggest helpfully, leaning against the sofa and massaging my neck."

"YouTube."

"What?"

"We should watch a recipe video." Dad elaborates, pulling his mouth into a thin line, "Cooking is an important life skill and I think we should start practising how to make simple dishes."

"Okay, I like the sound of that. Let's split the work." I smile, sitting up, "I'll make the lentil curry and rice and you make the salad. Works?"

A pained expression flashes across Dad's face and he shakes his head.

"I think it would be better if I took care of the curry." he says quickly, getting up from his rotating chair, "You can do the rice and salad. Now run along upstairs and clean up."

"Are you sure?" I raise my eyebrow, "I've been watching this cooking reality show lately and there's this exotic spice mixture they suggested. Maybe I-"

"Some other time." Dad cuts me off.

"Fine." I roll my eyes, chewing my cheek inside my mouth, "But only because I need to prepare for the Girl Script talk in school."

Dad crosses his arms in front of his chest, "Whatever that is, make sure it doesn't serve as a hindrance to your main agenda here."

"Yeah, I know that already." I mutter, pushing off the sofa, "You don't need to remind me twenty times a day."

"That means no friends are to be invited home, no giving out phone numbers and I expect you to include Nathaniel into this clique so that he's never alone. And-"

I saunter past Dad's door towards the staircase, "Yeah, yeah. I'll put him on refreshments duty."

"Ariya?!" Dad admonishes me from downstairs.

"Girl Script is exclusively for women interested in tech, so I'm afraid I can't just put him on the management committee. The founder of the team had a very clear vision in mind when they decided to start it." I reply over my shoulder from the first floor threshold.

"That's bullshit!" Dad barks back, "Which demented nut decided that?"

"It's not very nice to call your own daughter a demented nut!" I sing out my words, reaching my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

I remove my gym clothes from my bag and toss them into my laundry basket before entering the bathroom to get washed and change into pajamas.

After sending a long text to Mum about my day, I scamper down the stairs to Nathaniel's room to see whether he is interested in helping me make salad for dinner.

I knock on his door two times and call out, "Hey Nathaniel, I'm coming in. Cover up if you're doing anything I'm not supposed to see."

Cracking open the door a little, I peek into Nathaniel's bedroom to find him sitting on the floor with his back towards me.

"Nathaniel?" I step inside, "Is everything alright?"

I walk around him and sit down on the floor in front of him cautiously when he doesn't answer. He's meditating.

Nathaniel is sitting cross legged on a plain woven straw mat each hand propped on his knees. Although his face is devoid of any emotion, he looks at peace. Serene. He's even wearing a loose white linen kaftan kind of garment. He reminds me of the glistening still waters of a freshwater ford after a tumultuous storm.

I look away from him instinctively. For some reason it feels like I'm intruding on a moment that's meant to belong to him alone. I clasp my hands together in my lap and study the pattern of tightly overlapping straws of the yarn in the mat he's sitting on, before deciding that it's probably best for me to leave him alone.

"I'm done now." I hear from behind me as I reach for the doorknob, "Is there anything you need from me?"

When I look over my shoulder, I find Nathaniel turning slightly towards me and looking intently at the floor.

"Nothing. I just wanted to ask you whether you wanted to help me make salad for dinner?" I shrug, "Like take a break from being cooped up alone in here, you know."

"Yeah, ok." Nathaniel nods, looking up slowly and smiling a little, "I'll be down in five minutes."

The whites of his eyes are rimmed with a fading rosy red, like he's been crying. He looks away immediately, wringing his fingers, as he stands up and begins to fold his meditation mat neatly.

"Hey, are you all right?" I ask softly, from the doorway.

"Yes, I'm alright Ariya." he nods quickly, "Perfectly fine. Just give me a couple of minutes to tidy up and change into more appropriate clothes."

Sighing, I walk up to him and turn him around with a gentle yet firm grip. He's only about seven to eight inches taller than me, but his loose clothes make him look bigger.

"As surprising as it might sound, I don't have the emotional range of a bloody teaspoon." I remark when he shrugs off my hand, "So out with it."

"I'll tell you after dinner, if you still want to know." he replies, conceding a bit.

"For sure?"

"For sure."

Nodding reluctantly, I turn to leave Nathaniel's bedroom wondering what could have made him so clearly upset.

I enter the kitchen in a wary mood and make my way to the refrigerator to pick out some tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, sprouted legumes and greens for the salad. The vibrant aroma of the lentil curry that Dad has boiling on the stove wafts up to my nose and fills me with warmth and comfort, and I would probably have made some appreciative comment about it. But my mind is too engrossed in thinking about Nathaniel's dark red rimmed eyes, the icky unnerving feeling of being watched at The Glade and my unfinished presentation for the first Girl Script meeting.

Nathaniel comes downstairs after about ten minutes and we finish preparing dinner quickly. The three of us eat dinner in silence filled with the evening news that drones from the news app on Dad's highly fortified military grade smartphone.

After we're done washing and drying our respective spoons and plates, I hastily say goodnight to Dad before rushing out of the dining area. I climb up to Nathaniel's floor and lean against the staircase bannister with my arms crossed in front of my chest, waiting for the elusive prince. I don't trust him to voluntarily come and share his grief with me himself- he's too proud for it. Too inclined on keeping up an appearance.

Nathaniel trudges up with silent footsteps, sucking his lips into his mouth when he sees me standing outside his bedroom door.

"Can you please let it go?" he asks softly, pleading with his eyes.

"I can, but I don't want to." I frown slightly, worried, "But if you don't want to tell me now. I guess I'll suck it up and not hound you about it. But you have to come sit with me on the roof now, you might feel better if you're not alone."

"Your persistence is vexatious." Nathaniel complains, but moves his feet readily when I grab his arm and drag him up the stairs.

I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head as I lead him into my room and throw open my window.

"There's a ledge outside, it's slightly higher than the window pane." I instruct, looking over my shoulder, "Just follow my lead and be careful ok."

It's cool outside- the evening winds from the ocean are flowing towards the shore. The breeze kisses our cheeks as we crawl onto the roof and settle down beside the large emergency water tank.

"Do you mind if I play some music?" I ask, slipping my phone out of my pocket.

Nathaniel shrugs.

"Want to choose the music?" I hold out my phone to him, "And choose something that you like this time."

Nathaniel stares at the music streaming app that I've opened on my phone for a few seconds before accepting it.

He types something quickly, and presses the play button before I can read the name of the song. He places it between us as the prelude begins to play.

It's a classical piece. Piano as far as I can tell.

I don't understand much about classical music, but the complex string of the notes has a soothing effect and I find myself tapping my fingers with the rhythm.

"Is that by a famous composer?" I ask curiously, tapping on my phone screen to read the name of the symphony.

The Moonlight Sonata. The name of the piece is apt for our current situation- sitting on the roof in comfortable silence, lapping up the caresses of the dancing wind under the silvery moonlight.

Nathaniel gives me a sideways glance before training his eyes on the ocean a little distance in front of us.

"It is composed by Ludwig van Beethoven, a very popular German composer and a rather defining figure in Western classical music." He says quietly.

"I know who Beethoven is," I reply, scoffing, "Come on, I'm not that culturally illiterate!"

Nathaniel doesn't say anything in response to that, instead tapping different fingers on his knee in lieu with the playing notes of the musical composition. The silence drifts back between us and settles comfortably.

After a few moments of observing the movement of his fingers, I realise that he's tapping his fingers according to an imaginary set of piano keys. I remember the case file on him given to me by my father saying that he was a skilled pianist.

I open my mouth to ask him about it when Nathaniel says, "My father used to love this piece, you know. Helped how simple yet powerful it was, how it entrances you from the very first note. He used to joke about saying that his soul would rest in peace only if he was cremated under the stars with The Moonlight Sonata playing at his funeral. That's how much he used to love it."

I reach out and squeeze his shoulder lightly as he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly.

"And now he's—" Nathaniel falters, "And now he's gone."

He slips his hand into the pocket of his navy blue linen pajama pants and pulls out a familiar silver dart. The one that had poisoned him at the lighthouse. The one with the chit with Marcus Mirsalehi's name.

"Oh my God! Isn't that—" I cry out, the recognition plainly visible on my face.

"Yes, it's the dart that my uncle used to send me a gift." Nathaniel nods.

"A gift?" I gasp, confused, "I don't understand. The man had you stabbed and fucking immobilised with that blasted cocktail of neurotoxins."

"It was a necessary safety measure and it could not be foregone," he simply shrugs, "To make sure that no adversary could have known that I was getting smuggled items from my uncle who's still in Volatis, in case they were observing. Our spy network is considerably vast, but with the coup and the terrorist attack at the royal palace it's difficult to discern who still remains loyal and who doesn't."

"Oh." I mumble, looking at my hands.

He did have the antidote available at hand after all. But who fucking does that as a security measure?!

"And what gift did you receive?" I raise my brow.

"A small portion of my father's cremated remains."

Nathaniel holds up the gleaming silver dart upside down and twists it carefully. The back unscrews to reveal a narrow vial hidden inside it, filled with a greyish white powder.

"I don't even know what kind of funeral he's been given. I wasn't even there to light his pyre despite being his only son." he sniffs, voice cracking.

Frowning, I wordlessly throw my arms around his neck and pull him towards me. He stiffens all over and tries to shrug my hands off but I hold on stubbornly. After a few seconds of protesting he concedes and relaxes, burying his face into my hair.

"Until I got this I didn't know how to simply accept my father's death. It was just so sudden and I didn't even see it happening so it was easy to simply not think about it." he stares intently at the vial in his hands, "But this just makes it feel so real. Painful even."

I follow his gaze and stare at the vial too.

"You miss him." I surmise dumbly, "Of course you do. I mean-"

"Just shut up for a bit, Ariya." Nathaniel whispers into my hair.

"Uh okay."

We sit like that for some time, Beethoven's symphony still playing in the background. I wonder how long it is.

Long enough to last the duration of a cremation, I think to myself.

"Today marks the fortieth day since he left this world." Nathaniel whispers, "My faith says that the fortieth day after a person's death is the last day that their soul lingers on earth before beginning it's journey into the unknown. I just pray and hope that his soul can leave in peace and he's happy wherever he is."

"I'm sure he's happy wherever he is now." I smile although Nathaniel cannot see my face, "He must be so proud of you right now. You're working so hard to make sure that Volatis' powers don't fall into the wrong hands."

"You think so?" He sounds so vulnerable that it breaks my heart to hear him like this.

"I know so." I answer reassuringly.

Nathaniel sighs quietly into my hair, gently pulling away and slipping the dart that he'd been toying with safely into his pockets.

"At least we have made progress now, right?" he asks, brightening up a little.

I bite my cheek nervously. I don't have the heart to tell him that I still don't know the identity of our information source at The Glade. But I really want him to feel better.

So I nod tightly, "Yes, we're making progress."

•><•

Whoops, that was slightly heavy but at least now we know that Nathaniel didn't simply run out alone for no reason.

And I have great news! Three official Wattpad profiles featured The Art of Unopulence this week. dangerouslove, WattpadMulticultural and TeenFiction!!

Do vote, comment, share and don't forget to spread the love!☆

Also, happy navratri to everyone who celebrates!