Braid of Sand Page 9

  She scowled and massaged her head.

  “That was definitely not what I was doing.”

  His cool expression cracked into a smile like a sheet of thin ice.

  “I don’t know what you’re used to, but where I come from it would never occur to me to think something that long could be made of human hair.”

  “Well, aside from my hair, what do you think of the Garden so far? You’re the only other human who’s ever been allowed in.”

  That muscle in his jaw started flexing again.

  “In Phalyra, the Realm of the Gods is just a myth. It’s a fantasy we feed to children when we can’t fill their bellies—gardens overflowing with every fruit you can imagine, creatures you only ever see in dreams, elixirs and cures that can stave off death... I can’t decide whether it will be crueler or kinder to tell them it exists when I go back. If our people knew about this place, your goddess would have another uprising on her hands.”

  Raziela’s heart slammed against her ribs.

  “You can’t go back!” She spoke without thinking. She would need to consult the Great Mother to know whether it was safe to send him back to the world where he belonged, but she suspected that if Naiara meant to punish his people with hopelessness and famine that she would not be pleased for him to undermine her efforts by revealing the existence of all the things she was denying them. He was right. It would start the rebellion all over again.

  “Are you saying you’re going to hold me prisoner?” He leaned toward her, and Raziela’s fingers inched toward the knife lying beside the cheese wedge.

  Something close to interest deepened his voice.

  Considering his past, there were worse prisons where he probably belonged. The real question was, could she hold him against his will? Guardian. Protector. Those were noble roles to fulfill—but jailer? The thought of locking him up made her physically ill.

  “I will leave it to the Great Mother to determine what should be done with you.”

  His chair came back down on all fours with a hard thump.

  “You might as well run upstairs and get your sword, then. If I have to face that witch I’ll do more than spout a few words of blasphemy.”

  Any trace of warmth in him vanished at the mention of the Goddess. Raziela’s heart ached for him even as her fingernails sank into the tabletop at his disrespect. How could she show him Naiara’s true nature? She was kind, and loving and the living embodiment of everything that was right and good. He was the scourge, the destroyer. But as the Great Mother always told her, it was the ones who lived in darkness who needed the most help facing the light.

  “If you’ve finished eating, I will show you how to reach the pools. I’m sure you’d like to refresh yourself after the adventure you had to get here.”

  He wasn’t done eating. If she allowed it, he’d have stayed there all night.

  His jaw clenched as he fought not to glance at the food that remained untouched. He rose stiffly from his seat.

  “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me how like her you are.” The words were gentle enough, but his meaning cut her like a lash. She refused to believe the cold feeling welling inside her was shame. Being like the Great Mother was nothing to be ashamed about. Still, the way he looked down at her made her feel as small as a mouse.

  For the first time since she’d come to the Realm of the Gods, she felt vulnerable. Not because she was afraid he would harm her—just as she could have dispatched him before now if she wanted, he would have sprung an attack if that was his intent. No, she realized that his haunted eyes and twisted view of history had the power to unravel her own understanding of the life she’d been given.

  She’d only been eight years old the day the soldiers broke into the Temple. Could there be two sides to the story of that day?

  Raziela closed her eyes and shot to her feet. It was blasphemy to question the Goddess. She swung away to lead him back to the steps. From behind her came a wet squelch as he bit into whatever fruit he’d snagged from the basket.

  With each step down the staircase, the moisture in the air grew. Soon, the dancing reflections of light from the pools decorated the stairwell. Raziela put her hand out, careful not to slip on the slick steps.

  He was not so cautious.

  His boot slid out from under him. She winced as he landed hard on his tailbone. The half-eaten pear bounced out of his hand and rolled down the steps to drop into the pool with a loud plunk.

  Raziela stared hard at a spot on the opposite wall. She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Her efforts didn’t stop him from scowling at her. She cleared her throat.

  “If you go through that arch you’ll find a small chamber. I keep a pallet down here for nights when I’d rather not roast myself building a fire in my room. It’s surprisingly comfortable, though it might not be quite long enough for you.” She looked him over again.

  “I’m sure I’ll manage,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.

  They stared at each other—two circling cats waiting to see who would make the first move. She’d put herself at a disadvantage by coming down first. It gave him the high ground and forced her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. The Goddess alone knew what she should do with him. Killing him would make everything easier, but unless he attacked her it was wrong to kill someone in cold blood.

  Before she knew what he was doing, his hand closed around her wrist. She locked her arm, but he exerted just enough effort to raise her knuckles to his lips. Raziela stared as his mouth grazed her skin.

  “May the light of your hospitality shine forever.” His eyes flicked to her face. “Isn’t that how the old blessing goes?”

  She bobbled her head back and forth. Close enough. The blessing went, ‘May the light of the Great Mother shine on you for your hospitality,’ but she appreciated his effort.

  Neither of them moved. A charge filled the air the longer they stared at each other.

  “Will you be joining me for a swim?”

  Why did the simple question send her heart leaping like a drunken satyr? With a quick shake of her head, she yanked her hand from his and darted for the stairs. His low chuckle rumbled behind her.

  Coward.

  She wasn’t sure if he spoke or if it was a subconscious voice taunting her.

  After she turned the sharp corner up the stairs, she ducked back to watch him shrug off his sleeveless jacket to reveal a wide lawn of golden-brown skin. A network of muscles and sinews stretched and flexed throughout his shoulders as he discarded it in a heap on the ground.

  His hands went to his belt to remove his sheaths as he kicked off his boots. Watching from the stairs, Raziela’s face turned red, but she didn’t look away. He was a known enemy. She’d be a fool to let him wander around by himself. His privacy was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

  Fortunately, he decided not to discard his pants. He stepped to the edge of the ledge and leaned forward to judge the water’s depth.

  He stretched his arms out in front of him once and looked at the cave ceiling. For a moment she thought he was going to laugh, but then his gaze flicked over his shoulder to where she was lurking. She gasped and ducked out of sight.

  9.

  While his enemies considered him creative for the means he used to take his targets by surprise, Castien had never believed himself capable of coming up with a dream as incredible as the heated pool.

  But this place couldn’t be real.

  His belly was swollen with the rich food from the priestess’s table. His tongue itched for more of the tart berries and sharp cheese, and the smell of freshwater rising from the steaming water made his head swim. In the Scorching Wastes his mind had tried to play tricks on him with wavering mirages and hallucinations brought on by the baking sun. It would take one hell of a hallucination to trick his other senses too.

  The fine hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end, warning him—if his common sense didn’t do that already—he was being watched. For all
her flowing robes and fine-boned features, the High Priestess had a core of steel he’d be a fool to underestimate. If she wasn’t stalking him herself, he’d think less of her if she didn’t set some form of surveillance to monitor his every move.

  Unease washed over him as he contemplated what means of surveillance might exist in this realm.

  He stepped to the edge of the promontory and looked down. The water darkened from a pale turquoise to a rich blue green. He spread his arms wide and enjoyed the sensation of steam collecting in a thin sheen across his skin. He jumped, angling across the surface rather than plunging straight down.

  His skin sang with the exquisite heat—not unbearable, but enough that within a few moments his complexion acquired a rosy glow.

  A current moved far below him. He wouldn’t have noticed except the sudden swirl of cool water caused the hairs on his legs to prickle. He cracked an eye open. The High Priestess mentioned catching fish for dinner. Saliva flooded his mouth at the thought.

  Fresh fish! When was the last time he’d enjoyed fish that hadn’t been frozen solid for several weeks? A year ago? Two?

  Something darted around Castien’s legs. Minnows?

  A strange lightness filled his chest. For a moment, it was as if all the years of being outcast were forgotten, and the boy he’d once been got the chance to come up for air.

  He’d loved hanging out down at the docks when the fishermen came in. In those days, schools of fish darted around the algae-stained posts of the boardwalk. Sometimes, he’d take a fishing pole and cast his line over the side while he watched the sailors wrestle with the nets squirming with fat fish. That had been the future he imagined for himself, to go out every morning with the other men and come back at sunset with a net wriggling with fish.

  Then, old King Phareman fell ill. Unable to face the deterioration of his brain and body from the tumors riddling his organs, he grew obsessed with finding a mythical cure that led him down a path of folk remedies and increasingly bizarre healing rituals.

  Despite his dwindling health, Phareman refused to step down. Eventually his generals got together and agreed something needed to be done ‘for the good of the people.’ As there were no direct heirs for the throne and he possessed the highest rank among the generals, Herodes invoked the Right of Polemarch and assumed temporary command of the throne. Within a week of that final indignity, Phareman succumbed to his illness, and Phalyra officially became Herodes’ kingdom to rule.

  Castien drank in a deep breath and sank beneath the surface to watch several long, thin curious fish rise up to inspect him. A flash of silver glinted in the murky darkness. He let a few bubbles escape to ease the pressure building in his lungs.

  Too late, it occurred to him to wonder what species of fish might dwell in this enchanted land.

  What came swimming up out of the depths was neither small nor a fish.

  A translucent, gilled monster rushed at him with the wide-opened jaws of a small shark.

  Ropes of seaweed wound around his ankles like a whip. Before it could pull taut, Castien managed a powerful swoop of his arms that gained him the surface just long enough to gulp another lungful of air before the monster dragged him several feet under.

  Short jagged teeth clamped onto his calf.

  Castien roared and water barreled down his throat.

  The teeth tore loose, and the monster floated up until the flat slope where it’s nose should’ve been was an inch from the end of Castien’s nose. Bulging eyes sprouted from either side of its mushroom-shaped head. They watched unblinking as Castien violently drowned.

  With his weapons lying with his discarded clothes on the ledge, Castien felt the first true stab of terror he’d known in almost ten years. He couldn’t stop trying to breathe through the pain in his leg. Water seared along his nasal passages. White spots flared around the edges of his vision.

  The creature hovered in front of him, dispassionate as a fisherman savoring the struggles of a tale-worthy catch.

  The slap of something large striking the water caused the creature to dart back. The seaweed loosened its hold and Castien kicked to the surface. He choked and belched until water streamed from every orifice in his face.

  Something soft skated across the surface of the pool to brush his arm. He batted it away only to see that it was a segment of braid trailing in a limp line toward the promontory where the Priestess must have jumped in.

  She’d jumped in to save him?

  Large bubbles rose up from beneath him. He gulped a mouthful of air and dove after her.

  To his surprise, he did not find her locked in underwater combat with the sea monster. She floated upright, waving her arms in obvious communication.

  Castien drifted down behind her, ready to offer assistance but not missing that the creature hadn’t attacked her. It tilted its head, and one of its eyes twisted to stare at Castien while the other remained fixed on the girl.

  She jabbed her finger at Castien and made an exaggerated sweep of her head before crossing her arms in a slashing gesture. The monster recoiled.

  “Buhloop. Blurp. Bloop bloop.” At least that’s what Castien heard. The priestess must have heard something different, because she smiled and nodded. She pointed at Castien again and then at herself. He’s with me.

  Both eyes swiveled to look him over before the creature vanished with a single flap of his long, gray limbs.

  Castien shot for the surface again. Did the girl not need air to breathe?

  He reached for the outcropping of rock and hauled himself straight up out of the pool. A puddle formed beneath him as he crouched waiting for the priestess to emerge.

  She surfaced a short distance away and waded to shore with her back to him. His nostrils flared at the casual dismissal. He could almost believe she was too naive to realize her mistake, but something about the cool indifference in her movements told him she knew exactly how dangerous he was. She chose to dismiss him anyway. That...intrigued him.

  Hand over hand, she hauled her hair out of the water growing more agitated by the foot. As soon as she had enough slack to do it, she looped the braid once around her neck, criss-crossed it over shoulders, and wound the rest around her waist like a layered belt. She shot him a dirty look when the tail of her braid flicked up while she secured it to a loop on her belt. It slashed a line of water droplets just under her eye. Her expression went glacial. His should have incinerated her where she stood.

  Castien rose, finally loosening the leash on the danger that lurked within him. Her stance changed to match his. She went from flat-footed and petulant to balanced on the balls of her feet. The shift in her body happened so subtly he wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t looking for it. He couldn’t help but look with her wet silk gown plastered to every inch of her lithe form. By the Goddess, looking was the easy part! It was tearing his eyes away that gave him more trouble than he cared to admit.

  “Was that your idea of a trick?” His voice was rough as broken glass as it cut the air between them.

  Her shoulder rose, the picture of indifference.

  “If I wanted you dead, I’d give you the respect of killing you myself. And I certainly wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of diving in after you and hurt Gursel’s feelings like that.”

  Gursel? That thing had a name. No. Not just a name. She cared about it. He heard it in her voice. Gross.

  “He’d have done more than hurt my feelings if you hadn’t come back. Don’t expect any pity out of me for him.”

  “He was just trying to protect me. He’s never seen a human besides me here before.”

  His eyelids lowered.

  Just because she’d pulled him out didn’t mean she hadn’t led him into the trap in the first place. He’d employed that tactic a time or two before.

  She made a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat. Ignoring him completely, she wrung out a section of her braid and a trickle of water splashed onto the floor. Castien refused to be ignored.

  “Y
ou knew it was down there.”

  She tossed an impatient look over her shoulder.

  “Of course I knew. That’s where he lives. He’s the only one of the sea people who ever comes to the surface, and he’s never attacked me before. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t be perfectly safe.”

  Castien didn’t know whether to believe her. In any case, if getting rid of him was what she wanted, he wasn’t going to give her an opening like that again. They stared each other down across the cave.

  An unexpected cool breeze swept through the cave, making her shiver. She crossed her arms impatiently.

  For the first time that he could remember, Castien found himself unable to make up his mind about her. Deciding to reserve judgment, Castien stopped glaring at her and bent to retrieve his clothes.

  Her exhale of relief echoed throughout the chamber.

  “If you’re done swimming, I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”

  “Great. I can’t wait to find out what horrors make their home in the next place we visit.” He slung his jerkin back on and shoved his feet into his boots with a squish. His scarf he tied around his calf, but after a quick inspection he saw that the bite wasn’t nearly as bad as it felt. Assuming the creature wasn’t venomous and the bite didn’t get infected, it would be no worse than any of the other injuries he’d sustained over the years. He glared at the water, daring the creature to come out and face him on dry land.

  “I wouldn’t insult him in his own home if I were you. You are the one who doesn’t belong here.” Her voice was terse as she wrung out her turquoise skirts. The water made a loud slapping sound where it splashed off the rocks.

  Castien paused. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to him like that, as if he was no one to be feared, as if she was his equal—or his superior. He slashed his head in her direction. Either she’d been so sheltered by the Goddess that she had no concept of self-preservation, or maybe he was the one miscalculating where the biggest threat in the room was.