Decree, page 6
Kiera took a step forward, standing beside the fae. “This one had three heads.”
The laughter stopped then, as did the woman’s smile. For the second time, the pair of them locked eyes. This time, something different past between them. Something searching, and found.
There was a long silence, before Minerva finally answered.
“That is something different.”
For the first time since stepping into the clearing, the queen seemed to consider her next steps. Travelers, her women had told her. Lost in the sun. Such things weren’t uncommon, they had redirected misplaced travelers before. They had dealt with their share of adventure-seekers, sailing from far off lands, chasing after dragons. But never had the words carried a hint of truth.
A dozen silent questions flitted through her eyes, replaced with a careful smile.
“You went looking for trouble and ended up face-down in the sand,” she said loudly, letting the words carry to the rest. Her lips twitched with amusement. “Thank the gods for me.”
The sisters laughed again, carrying on with their business.
It was such a skillful deflection, even the friends had to admire it. But the fevered haze from their time in the dunes was already lifting, and there were pressing matters at hand.
“There is a castle,” Eden spoke softly, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear. “A castle of twisting black stone. It stands not three days from here. You must have seen it—”
“Now there is a castle as well?”
Eden leaned back slowly, his eyes growing cold.
The fae had their own glamour, and their own pride. He would bow and smile, and would do it sincerely. He would show the proper respect. But he would not be made a fool.
“For everything you’ve done to help us, I offer my sincerest thanks. We are in your debt. But if this is the conversation to be had, then we must be leaving. These dangers will not keep for—”
“That castle has stood for a hundred years,” she interrupted softly. “That castle isn’t going anywhere.” Her eyes swept past him, landing on Kiera. “The only thing that’s changed...is you.”
Chapter 5
The bonfire didn’t end when they finished the feast, it was only beginning.
Strange as it might have been after their near-confrontation, a word from their queen was enough to put the Nassi’s qualms to rest. From the moment the word guests passed her lips, the friends were accepted into the circle and treated as one of the tribe’s own.
The sisters were talking to them now, keeping up such a constant stream of babble that Kiera was convinced some ancient law had prevented them from doing so before. This was later confirmed by Kia—the young girl who’d volunteered to help them. Half-confirmed. They had not been prohibited in speaking with her, a woman, only from addressing the men.
Their questions were ceaseless, putting even the young barmaid to shame.
What was it like on the western shores? What of the people? Was it true there were giants, with hands as big as houses? Did they use coins for currency, or handfuls of raw gems?
Had they ever seen it rain?
Kiera answered everything and more, pausing for breath whenever possible and slipping in eager questions of her own. Had they been born in the desert, or had they come from someplace different? Did they still feel the heat, or had they grown used to it? Where did they get so many horses? What was the plan if the springs ever ran dry? She wanted to know about the lack of men, but was too afraid to mention it directly. She tried a roundabout version instead.
“Have you any brothers or sisters?” she asked Kia, taking a casual sip from her drink.
The girl shook her head without looking, adjusting the grip on her knife. “I had two sisters,” she replied. “One older and one younger. I lost them both to fever the summer before last.” Her fingers kept winding. “We don’t have any brothers.”
Kiera stared at her a moment, but said nothing.
The young barmaid wasn’t the only one getting attention. While the sisters may have delighted in swapping stories with one of their own, the men were the true novelty.
It started slowly—a casual gesture, a darting glance. There was nothing fearful in their gazes, only a profound distrust that seemed to outweigh any attempts to push through it. But such fires were a rarity, and it wasn’t long before the ice between them began to chip away.
The sister who’d brandished the spear deposited a pitcher of spirits before returning to her tent. After a pressing silence, Kia finally asked what it felt like to grow a tail. The immortals were given a wider berth, but Evander apparently wasn’t the only one who thought the fae was too thin.
Kiera watched as a woman who’d been staring from across the fire, pushed suddenly to her feet and stabbed her knife through a slab of uncooked meat. She barely singed it on the bonfire, just a twisting moment over the coals, before she swept forward and dropped it into Eden’s hands.
His eyes flew up in surprise. “For me?”
She nodded stiffly, gesturing with the knife. “Eat it fast.”
The fae hesitated a split second, still feeling rather delicate to sink his teeth into some desert beast, but he was striving for manners and the blade was compelling punctuation.
With a bracing look, he lifted the creature to his mouth and took a bite—freezing with an expression the others would never truly forget. A trickle of blood ran down his chin, as the sister smirked and vanished, leaving him to revel in the experience for himself.
He chewed slowly, then lifted his eyes with a look of astonishment. “...that is delicious.”
Jesse barked with laughter, leaning forward for a better look. “Is it raw?”
“Basically, yes.”
“It’s shameful,” Kiera teased as he tore into it again, his body desperate for all those nutrients it had been so long deprived. “What would your people say?”
Evander merely watched with a little smile. “You’re a messy eater,” he murmured, wiping some blood from the fae’s chin.
Eden blushed and grinned. “I don’t have as much practice as you.”
There was a sudden commotion behind them, as a series of rosewood instruments were pulled from chests. Strings of bells were soon to follow, heaped into stacks, circled around wrists and ankles, fringed upon everything. The flames reached higher and the night came to life with a chorus of howls and yips and screams, as the sisters flooded forth—pouring out of the shadows like the breaking of a tide, their eyes catching like sparks of firelight beneath the endless open sky.
It was a different kind of music than the friends were used to, filled with sudden crashes and clamoring swells. By no means could it be considered relaxing, it kept one on their toes. It made one want to get up and dance. Within seconds, that was exactly what some of the warriors started to do.
Kiera watched in open delight as they leapt and twirled in front of the fire—those gilded robes spinning around them, their bare feet pounding in rhythm against the sand. Most of those dancing were fully grown, but there were a few children as well. Kia was near the center—circling a gauzy scarf in the air above her, shooting secret glances back at the friends.
Eden’s eyes warmed with amusement, tracing a line between the girl and Jesse. “You have an admirer,” he said softly.
The wolf met her gaze with a kind smile, but that only made the poor child blush all the harder. A look of furious shame swept across her cheeks, and she vanished into the night.
The men grimaced at the same time.
“You handled that very poorly,” Evander remarked.
Jesse threw up his hands. “What more could I have done?”
“...something different.”
“It’s different for you,” the shifter accused, “aside from one intellectually diminished cat, you’ve never had anything make eyes at you in your entire life.”
Evander tilted his head with a bewitching smile. “I’m a vampire. You think nothing has ever made eyes?” he stressed the last words with a trace of amusement, unfamiliar with the phrase. “What about the fae?”
“Eden likes things that try to kill him. You said it yourself.”
Kiera ignored them, her eyes fixed upon the dancers.
There didn’t appear to be any structure to what they were doing, but there was something synchronized about it all the same. Every time the women leapt into the air, it was like they’d heard the same call to do it. Even the horses were prancing, whinnying and stamping their feet in time.
She leaned forward on her hands, completely transfixed. Reflections of those molten flames danced in her eyes, twisting towards the heavens, as bursts of sparks and laughter flew into the air.
The horses pawed the sand. The bells chimed.
“May you always find comfort when you need it,” she whispered, the words echoing back like some kind of dream, “and may aid travel on swift horses should trouble arise.”
The men looked at her in surprise, pausing mid-argument. It was silent for a moment, then Jesse glanced at the pitcher. “Did you try some of the gin?”
“It’s what the naiads told me,” she replied, remembering at the same time. “After we slayed the blisserin and found them in the river...that was the blessing they gave.”
It happened so long ago, it almost felt like she was talking about a different person. The desert was so vast and bare, it seemed to erase everything that had come before it. And before that, an endless forest. And stretched in the middle—a wide and intemperate sea.
Eden stared a moment longer, then his eyes swept over the camp. “From one group of sisters to another,” he murmured, lingering on those silver-lit ankles, those slicing smiles. “It seems to have come just in time—”
“I found a dragon in the canyons,” she blurted, the memories tumbling back. “I got to the rocks just like you said, then the stone carried me further inside. I couldn’t release it—like it had fused into my skin. It dragged me over the crags and into a nest.”
The nest of a dragon.
The men were watching her now. They had gone very still.
“I wasn’t alone,” she continued softly, seeing the images play out before her eyes. “There was a hatchling. I probably should have killed it, but I...I couldn’t bear the thought. I left instead. I tried to leave,” she corrected. Her brow furrowed as the memory grew dim. “I remember crawling over the rocks, making my way down to the canyon floor. I was going to look for all of you. I didn’t understand why I was the only one who’d gotten free of the storm. But then...” Her eyes lifted slowly, to find three stricken faces. “You have been keeping something from me.”
They froze in perfect unison, then the immortals flashed a quick look to Jesse—sitting in the middle, his cheeks flushed with shame. He could barely meet her eyes. He could barely look away.
“Don’t blame them,” he said quietly, “it was my request. Not that we keep it from you, just that we...we let you come round to things in your own time. I’d hoped the memory would return on its own. It’s not the kind of thing...” He held back. “It sounds worse when you say it out loud.”
Her eyes fixed upon his. “Tell me now.”
He drew in a faltering breath, caught in a rare hesitation. “We reached the canyons only a few moments after you,” he answered. “You were already on the ledge by the time we got there, but...you weren’t alone. There was a dragon crouched in front of you. The mother, I’m assuming...though I didn’t know about the nest.”
They lapsed into silence.
...and?
“You’re stalling, Jesse. That’s not like you.”
His eyes lifted fearfully, something else that didn’t quite fit. In a moment of clarity, she saw it was a reflection of the same expression he’d been wearing since she woke up, buried just beneath the surface, crackling like an ill-kept flame. How many times had those hands reached out to steady her? How many times had those bright eyes leapt without provocation to her face?
He’s afraid, she realized suddenly. He’s actually afraid to tell me.
“It caught you with a wave of fire,” he said roughly, “but you didn’t burn.”
She leaned back slowly, not a hint of emotion on her face.
The minutes ticked past, one after another, but she had no sense of them. Neither did she notice the trio of men sitting breathlessly before her, waiting for whatever was coming next.
After what seemed like an eternity, she lifted her eyes.
“You thought that sounded worse out loud?”
THEY WERE GOING TO the shore, leaving the very next day. The Nassi didn’t often visit the port, but they had business that needed attending and agreed to escort their strange new friends.
To be honest, there was a good chance they were doing it just for the novelty. For a hundred generations, they’d been watching people venture into the desert. Very few had ever made it back.
What about people who met a dragon? How many of those made it back?
Kiera sat in the middle of her blanket, staring vacantly ahead, while the others prepared for the night in silence. They had left the bonfire almost immediately after the shocking admission, and hadn’t said more than a handful of words since. Brave as they were, none of the men seemed willing to break the quiet. They filled it with nervous glances instead—eyes darting across the tent.
She was immune, lost in her own contemplations. They’d half-convinced themselves she was never going to move again, when she looked down suddenly—staring at the backs of her hands.
They were perfectly smooth, untouched by the fire.
Even my arm.
She clearly remembered it breaking—flapping like a loose sleeve in the storm. It had been excruciating, torn clean from the socket. Now only a few days later, it was healed without a trace.
But that’s not possible.
It was a knee-jerk reaction, the first words that echoed in her mind. The friends had stumbled across many fantastical things over the course of their travels, but there were certain fundamental rules from which there was no escape. If you ran out of water, you were going to get thirsty. If you got struck in the face, you were going to bleed. If you got burned with dragon fire...
You’ll wake up better than ever.
“Who called me?” she asked abruptly, making the others jump. They had been giving her a wide berth, keeping to the edges of the tent. “Who told me to get to the rocks?”
In the silence that followed, they shared a fleeting look.
If they hadn’t known what to make of her before the revelation, they were even less certain now. At times, she seemed almost angry. Not angry, but sharp. Like she’d been pulled from the fire too quickly—still molten and bubbling, still trying to find the right shape.
“None of us called you,” Evander finally replied. “You just started running.”
At the time, it had seemed like a small mercy. The storm might have been bearing down upon them, but the most vulnerable among them had pulled free of its grasp. More than that, she was moving of her own accord—heading away from the storm and back towards the canyons. They remembered being as astonished as they were genuinely thrilled.
Now...? It was just another question.
“You heard someone speaking?” Jesse asked tentatively, casting a quick look at the others to confirm. He ventured a step closer. “What did they—”
“I guess I didn’t,” she interrupted shortly. “I guess it was all in my head.”
The men exchanged another glance, then continued bedding down.
Nights in the desert had turned out to be blisteringly cold. But the tent was lit with half a dozen tapers and the heavy fabric kept in the heat. The immortals lay down together on one side, while Jesse took off his cloak and stretched tentatively beside her on the other.
She maintained her silent vigil, arms circled around her knees.
How was she supposed to sleep? How was she supposed to close her eyes and pretend like she hadn’t just survived a blast of dragon fire? A small part of her was convinced that she was dead already, burnt to a crisp by the angry mother who’d tracked her from the nest.
I can’t be dead. It wouldn’t be so cold.
She blinked with a shiver, coming back to herself.
The candles had long since burnt out and their smoke was already dissipated, the last of its tendrils hanging like a vapor in the air. The others had stayed awake for as long as they were able, waiting to see if she would start talking again, before the fatigue had overtaken them and they had fallen into restless slumber. Even now, one of Jesse’s hands was curled around the hem of her robe.
She regarded him a moment, tracing the lines of his face, before a prickle of awareness swept over her skin, and she raised her head to see a pair of bright eyes watching from across the tent.
Eden.
The fae didn’t speak a word, he merely slipped out from beneath Evander’s arm and ghosted across the tent—holding open the flap in a silent invitation. She hesitated a moment, then followed.
The hour might have been late, but parts of the camp were still moving. Bronze pots and sticky platters were being scrubbed in caldrons of boiling water over the fire. A new company of horses had come in from the desert—their riders were dismounting, shaking out the sand.
The pair watched in silence from the door, their eyes lifting past the horses to that circle of spears, glinting at the edge of the torchlight. At several points, she opened her mouth to speak.
Then she let out a shaky breath, leaning against him instead.
Seven hells.
His arms came up at once, circling around just as he’d carried her though the desert—those tiny sobs muffled in his tunic, a single hand cupping round her head like a child. They stood there a long time, maybe minutes, maybe longer, before she finally gathered her breath and pulled back.
He wiped a tear from her cheeks, tilting his head with a sad smile.
“...long day?”
She let out a single breath of laughter, feeling like her body was shaking apart. It felt good to do something normal. Yet she didn’t see how anything could ever be normal again.
