Decree, page 5
Kiera had already stripped down to her tunic. “We shall.”
With a great fumbling of eager fingers, she attacked the clasps on her boots before reaching up the first time and noticing the weave of her hair. She paused then, tracing it from root to tip.
“Did you braid my hair?” she asked curiously, flashing Jesse a look.
There were a great many things she would need to ask him, she suddenly realized. From the tiniest details, so the vast gaping holes that needed to be filled.
He glanced over, pulling his tunic over his head. “That was Eden. In the style of his people,” he added, with a faint smile. “If you cover the tips of your ears and start scowling at everyone, you might pass as a fae.”
She regarded him seriously. “That’s both the kindest and cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Go away!” Eden called from the center of the pool. He was floating now, hair spiraling beneath him with his face tilted up to the sky. “I’m keeping it all for myself.”
They shared a grin, and splashed towards him.
For what felt like an eternity, the friends bathed and frolicked in the pool—forgetting whatever secret eyes might be watching, as the water rinsed away the last harrowing days. It felt like coming back to life. Never had Kiera understood the simple pleasure of it, the feel of something so cool and cleansing against her skin, until every chance of it had been taken away.
Within minutes, she was firmly on the side of the fae. They were never leaving.
“You’ll have to decimate the camp,” Eden murmured dreamily, having reclaimed his place beneath the splashing falls. “Do it politely, of course. But we must never surrender this pool.”
Evander grinned, looking much younger than usual. “Hardly the best way to show our thanks.”
The fae waved dismissively. “Do it quickly please, then return.” His eyes opened the briefest of moments, twinkling with mischief as they found the vampire’s. “I am a man resurrected. You have been neglecting me.”
Evander laughed aloud, flushed with affection. “You can barely stand.”
The fae scoffed again, wading towards him. “You can barely stand,” he repeated in a brooding imitation. “Careful, Eden—you might fall.” He circled his arms around the vampire’s neck. “Good thing one of us has some balance.”
Evander stepped closer with a smile, but it faded when his eyes traced over the fae. There was a delicacy that hadn’t been there before setting out into the desert. He could see each of his ribs.
“Come,” he said abruptly, drawing him to the shore, “let’s get you something to eat.”
Chapter 4
The tribes of the desert followed the curve of the sun.
In daylight hours, they wore clothes of shimmering white—draped in gauzy patterns across their bodies, breathable and airy to repel the blinding sun. When nighttime came, those lighter things gave way to robes of the deepest black, open nearly to the waist and fringed in burnished gold.
The friends put these on carefully, unused to the feel of such things against their skin. For months on end, it had been nothing but traveling cloaks and leather boots—they felt almost naked without them. The color was unsettling as well. On western shores, black was saved for mourning.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn something like this,” Eden admitted, lacing the golden threads over his skin. “I feel like I should be coming from a grave.”
Kiera flashed him a dark look, while Jesse hissed and crossed himself in a gesture taught in early childhood. There were certain words they’d agreed not to say on their little adventure. While never explicitly stated—for obvious reasons—grave was near the top of the list.
“It’s not unflattering,” Evander said lightly, casting him a sideways glance. “One could even say, it suits you.” He flashed a little smile. “You should visit graves more often.”
Jesse swept past him, towards their impatient guide. “Just so you’re aware, that’s the most vampiric thing you’ve said all day.”
They followed in the little girl’s footsteps to the center of the camp, where a huge bonfire had been lit and the rest of the Nassi were already eating. If it was possible, they looked even more intimidating at a casual supper than they had before—nothing but flashing teeth and glowing eyes amidst all those shadows. There was a brief lull in conversation when they approached, much like when they’d ventured out to the pool, but it passed quickly and things carried on just the same.
Perhaps they receive guests often, Kiera thought, darting a nervous glance around. Or perhaps we’ve intruded upon something we shouldn’t, and they’re going to pretend we simply aren’t here.
They settled on the fringe of the circle, at the very edge of the fire’s light.
“Is there someone we should be speaking to?” she whispered, as they arranged themselves on a blanket laid across the sand. “Someone we can thank for all of this, or who can give us a better idea where we are?” She threw a quick look at the vampire. “Who was it that brought us here?”
By every account, he’d been the only person who was fully conscious for the experience, though she’d apparently babbled on mindlessly as they were carried to the camp. Since waking up just a short while before, she couldn’t help but be struck with a shocking lack of supervision.
Evander shook his head, eyes drifting over the crowd. “They were a hunting party,” he answered quietly, “that’s all they said. Whoever’s in charge will return later and we may express our gratitude then.” He hesitated for a moment, that vampiric censure ringing in his ears. “They were not particularly inclined to speak with me.”
...understandable.
She glanced again around the fire, taking in all those details she’d missed before.
However long the Nassi had dwelt in the desert had made them a hard people.
There wasn’t a woman amongst them who wasn’t sculpted with the same lean muscles, the same ready hands. A dazzling array of silver-crescent blades were strapped to their bodies—even whilst eating supper, in the very center of their camp. And for as curiously as the friends had been watching, darting secret glances, there were people watching them as well. Some of them did it openly, by the light of the fire. Still others were hidden in the shadows, and would never be seen.
But hard as they were, there was a great warmth to them as well.
The golden paint on their skin glowed in the firelight, leaping to vivid attention like the flash of a sword. From a closer distance, it was easy to see they weren’t random markings, but specific designs—each one strung together, as if to tell a story. A flying beetle, a taloned bird, a series of half-forged links that almost seemed like a chain. There was clearly great significance in every image, but they were lost on Kiera—blending into a breathtaking golden mosaic to her wondering eyes.
Such a marvel. And no one has any idea they exist.
An unsmiling woman peeled away suddenly from the crowd, depositing a bronze platter on the edge of the blanket, before leaving without a single word. Despite the stiffness of the delivery, it was heaped with more food than they’d eaten in a single night since leaving Farion.
There were candied figs and dates soaked in honey, swirling mustard pastes and a kind of flatbread that crackled at the touch. A pitcher was placed in the middle, surrounded by a trio of glasses. Not water, as they expected, but a sweetened kind of juice made from fruits found high in the trees.
The friends stared in amazement, still acclimating to their gifted clothes.
“Thank you,” Kiera called tentatively, but she was already gone.
For a suspended moment, the four of them sat in awkward silence—waiting for some larger speech or introduction, for a toast or a warning or at least some meager acknowledgement of their added presence. When nothing came, they shared a look and reached for the food.
Some of them. Others had lost their appetite, wandering in the sand.
“None of that,” Evander pressed gently, taking a piece of fruit from the platter and easing it into the fae’s hand. “You need to eat something.”
Eden took a single look, then glanced away—like the mere sight of it was enough to make him sick. “Tend to the children,” he answered, setting it down again. “I will be fine.”
The vampire nodded, never wavering in expression. “I would love to do that...as soon as you eat something.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Are you bribing me, vampire?”
Evander’s eyes twinkled in the firelight. “I’ve convinced you to do much worse.”
Eden laughed softly and picked up a fig, taking a small bite.
Kiera was having no such trouble.
From the moment that delicious aroma wafted from the platter, she’d been consumed with a ravenous hunger—eating everything in front of her, then reaching for some of Jesse’s food as well.
He seemed eager to let her.
In fact, since the second she’d opened her eyes, the shifter had been watching with such rapt attention, it would have made her blush if she’d taken the time to notice—like the tiniest breath was a miracle, like he was grateful beyond measure for every stolen bite.
“You’ll want to eat that more slowly.” A voice cut through the silence, like an arrow finding its mark. “Otherwise, you’ll throw it right back up.”
The friends lifted their eyes in unison to see one of the sisters watching from not far across the fire. She had ventured closer than the others—unable to hide her curiosity, as she took in the measure of them: every weary detail, every peculiar closeness, every fading scar. How strange they must have looked. It was written all over her face. And how much stranger than to those who hailed from different shores. It was strange enough in the western lands to witness such companions. Until that very evening, there was a chance that not a person in the eastern realm had ever seen the like.
Kiera blushed, looking down at the meat in her hands.
For all their desperate hours of hunting, the friends hadn’t been able to find a single living creature in the desert that wasn’t covered in death and scales, but there were apparently some beasts to be found. At the center of every platter was the same unfortunate animal—something between a squirrel and a possum, short legs and hearty thighs, too slow to escape those moonlit blades.
“You’re probably right,” she admitted shyly, flashing the woman another tentative look. “I know it’s only been a few days, but it feels like years have passed. I could eat the entire desert.”
The woman nodded practically, eyes flitting to her crimson hair.
“The heat does that to some people,” she replied, moving a little closer. “To others, it twists the stomach and repels the mind.” She glanced at the fae. “Your friend is one of these.”
“Sybil,” another woman chided fiercely.
“What?” the first challenged. “Kia has been speaking with them all day, no punishment has fallen on her head. Even the vampire,” she added with a hint of distaste, “apparently it can talk.”
Kiera sucked in a quick breath, flashing a look at Evander.
A hundred places the friends had travelled, but never had he been met with such open hostility. Quite possibly, because no one in their right mind would dare to antagonize him.
But these women would dare anything.
“As he proved by thanking you for your hospitality,” Eden interjected sharply. “I would hate to think he was wrong to do so. That you are not so generous as it seemed.”
There wasn’t any malice in his eyes, only a kind of watchfulness that amounted to the same thing. The fae had no terms when it came to Evander. It was the vampire, or it was nothing.
“You are quick to speak for him,” Sybil remarked, a hand resting casually on her blade.
“Others have been quick to speak against him,” Eden shot back just as fast. His eyes swept slowly around the circle, lit with the fire’s glow. “If anyone here feels the same, it’s best to know it now. We have no wish to quarrel. We will thank you, and be gone before sunrise.”
Another woman stepped forward, golden paint smeared down the middle of her chin.
“That’s a rather large assumption,” she replied, gripping the hilt of a long spear. Two others appeared immediately behind her, as if drawn by an invisible string. “Vampires are a danger not just to my kin, but to everyone around them.” Her eyes traced over the feather-white scars laced across the fae’s skin. Old scars, still fading. “What’s to stop us from rooting out that problem right now?”
Eden might have been at death’s door, but he moved with a speed and gracefulness that defied the gods themselves. Before she could finish speaking, he was on his feet.
“Move against him, and I will end you,” he promised quietly. “Then I will tear through your camp, and strike down as many of your sisters as I can before someone stops me.”
A sudden tension braided between them, thick as any rope.
Seven hells.
For a hanging moment, it didn’t look like anything could have stopped them. The argument had progressed too far, with threats being made against both sides. And while Kiera had no doubt the fae would do exactly as he promised, she was even more certain there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d survive. They had been broken too deeply, snatched from the brink without the time to mend.
The silence hardened into resignation. The woman’s hand tightened on her blade.
Then all at once, someone else stepped into the clearing.
“Do I hear a quarrel?”
In a flash, the spears were discarded as each of the sisters crossed their arms and bowed their heads in a sign of respect. It was such an abrupt gesture, the friends startled in alarm, before turning their eyes to a single woman, standing in the middle of the sand.
For a second, Kiera merely stared. That’s all someone could do.
There was nothing particularly ornate about her appearance, she wore the same dark robes and weapons as everyone else. Instead of being pulled back in braids, her hair hung loose in black curls beneath her shoulders, pulled up in the center with some kind of taloned claw. Her shoes were coated in dust from the day’s travel. There was a half-finished wine flask in her hand.
There was nothing ornate, but there was something resplendent about her all the same.
Perhaps it was the way she was standing—spearing from the ground with the entire desert laying before her. Perhaps it was the golden swirls painted across her skin. Her sisters’ were specific, measured and precise. Battles fought, and lessons learned. Hers spoke to other things—crashing storms and distant horizons. A higher purpose. Along her neck glittered the reflection of a crown.
By the gods...
Kiera hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring until she glanced up with a blush to catch the woman’s eyes. Those were different as well, warm as liquid amber, twinkling with a secret smile.
“I’d hate to think you were fighting,” she quipped, eyes flashing like lightning over all those bowed heads. They hung there in silent judgement before coming to rest upon the four strangers gathered in the center. “I thought we were here to make friends.”
In all of history, had there ever been a group of people so utterly quiet? Even the fae took a moment to find that immortal composure, before he managed to reply.
“That is my every wish,” he said graciously, inclining his head. His eyes shot a final time to the sisters with the spears. “I was just thanking these women for the food.”
The woman nodded slowly with the trace of a smile.
“You’ll want to eat it slowly,” she advised. “Otherwise, you’ll throw it right back up.”
Yes, we’ve heard that.
The friends exchanged a quick look, uncertain as to their next steps, but as it turned out, the decision wasn’t theirs to make. The woman strode forward fearlessly, stopping at the blanket.
“I am Minerva,” she said without preamble. “Queen of the Nassi. You are my guests.”
There was something of a command in her tone, and a dismissal at the same time.
Upon hearing it, the others sisters went immediately back to their business—picking up platters and glasses, picking up conversations where they had left off. A few of them remained vigilant, distressed, perhaps, at seeing their sovereign so close to those deadly fangs. But even they knew well enough to keep their distance. At any rate, their queen could take care of herself.
“Forgive me,” she said shortly, “but I must see for myself.”
Before the friends could think what she meant, she reached past them and seized Evander by the chin, drawing his face into the light and examining it with a practiced eye. Kiera froze in silent astonishment—not a clue what she was looking for. The vampire himself was too stunned to move.
Whatever it was she found, was clearly to her satisfaction.
“You are not thirsty,” she said without question. “You have fed from one of them?”
That’s what she was doing? How can she even tell?
Evander drew in a quick breath, freezing in her hand. “I have.”
She nodded soundly, then released him. “You will continue to do so, or our friendship will come to an end. We have many women here who specialize in the killing of vampires,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “If you need proof of their efforts, you need only see their collection of fangs.”
She let that hang a moment, then offered a genuine smile. “So tell me, what brings you to our shores?”
For the second time, the friends came to a collective pause—feeling as though the usual script had been pulled out from under them. Or perhaps it was the woman herself, as changing and unpredictable as the desert winds. They had no better luck trying to follow along.
“We were looking for a dragon,” Eden finally managed.
There was a tittering of laughter behind them. She glanced back with half a smile.
“A dragon,” she repeated with a touch of mockery, “those are western lore. Dragons have not plagued these lands for centuries. They have retreated to the farthest corners of the world.”
