The Pages of the Mind

by Jeffe Kennedy

She stood, with that supple strength she shared with Ursula, helping me up. My feet still burned on the hot rock, but I could ignore them for a while. The last thing I wanted was for Nakoa to pick me up again. Or touch me at all, given how completely he’d rattled me. Feeling more centered, more in my realm of expertise, I put my hands on Kral’s and Jepp’s shoulders, drawing their attention and stopping the barrage of epithets.

  “Jepp,” I said to her in Common Tongue, “this battle falls to me. My weapons are better. Let me translate. What do you argue for?”

  She speared me with a hot, angry look. “We need to get off this island immediately, but lunkhead here says the danger is over and we should give the king the lead.”

  At least she possessed enough discretion still not to use Nakoa’s name aloud. I translated for Kral, cleaning up Jepp’s opinion considerably. He eyed Jepp as I spoke, jaw clenched.

  “We can’t flee for the boat,” he ground out. “It will be seen as a sign of weakness. King Nakoa already invited us to a welcome feast when we first arrived and I accepted. Given the scarcity of their supplies, it’s an enormous offer and we’ll give fatal insult if we renege now.”

  “Even after he . . . all he did?” I amended, careful not to look at the man, though he’d caught his name, by the way he shifted in my peripheral vision.

  Kral shifted his gaze to me, a tinge of regret there but still righteous in his conviction. “A kiss, no more, nyrri, and you are none the worse for the wear. From what I gather, this”—he waved a hand that encompassed me, Nakoa, and the circling dragon—“was an exceptional ceremony. An honor to you.”

  “He accosted her,” Jepp inserted in terse Dasnarian, using the word that fell one shading shy of rape. It spoke volumes about the Dasnarian culture that they had so many words for varying levels of sexual consent. And about Jepp that she’d learned them well enough to choose the correct one.

  “What he did,” Kral said directly to her through gritted teeth, “is take nothing that shouldn’t be accorded to any foreign dignitary under normal circumstances, and even you must admit these are far from normal events.”

  Jepp leaned in. “We of the Twelve Kingdoms do not offer up any of our citizens, male or female, as party favors to anyone at all.”

  “But we’re not in the Twelve Kingdoms!” Kral shouted.

  “General Kral of Dasnaria and Imperial Prince of the Royal House of Konyngrr,” I snapped, his title cutting through his frustration as I’d hoped. “If we’re to draw new borders, as the document you recently signed designates, then these islands are within the Thirteen Kingdoms, which makes me, as adopted sister to the High Queen, and as her envoy, the ranking decision maker here.”

  I surprised even myself with that. Where had that come from? Both Kral and Jepp gazed at me in identical astonishment. King Nakoa moved then, snagging my eye. He gave me a nod, then spoke and gestured down the mountain.

  “Fine,” Jepp said. “You rank. What’s your call, Lady Mailloux?”

  I ignored her sarcasm, figuring it justified and deserved. “Let’s do the feast. Do what we came here for. Especially as it seems at least one danger has passed. No one seems concerned about the dragon. Let’s get through tonight and put this place behind us in the morning.”

  She accepted with ill grace, giving Nakoa a baleful glare, which seemed to amuse the man, if I read his expression correctly. I shifted, one burning foot to another, and he noted it, stepping forward with clear intent. I held up a hand to stop him. I couldn’t bear to be so near him, even as part of me felt that our hearts still shared the same blood, along with the impossible monster winging above. I needed time to assimilate this. Surely there would be tales to inform me?

  “You can’t walk down the mountain barefoot,” Jepp said, considering my reddened feet. “Perhaps one of Kral’s men?”

  “I will carry you,” Zynda decided. “A demonstration that we are not helpless, should escape become necessary.”

  “Thank you,” I told her with heartfelt gratitude. She shimmered beside me, that sense of nighttime magic, of the shadows, glints of moonlight and animal eyeshine washing over me. Like and yet not like the magic of whatever had happened with the releasing of the dragon. I watched Nakoa carefully, so I caught the flicker of surprise when Zynda became a gray mare beside me. No more than that from this controlled, savage man, however.

  A murmur ran through his people, not shock so much as that sound of reverence. Of course, we’d just seen a dragon emerge from a volcano, so a woman shape-shifting into a horse might seem commonplace. Zynda knelt down to make it easier for me to climb on, which I did quickly to forestall any contradiction from Nakoa. He simply gestured down the mountain again, then took position beside me, walking close enough that his bare arm occasionally brushed my calf. I tried to pretend that the brief points of contact didn’t send sparks through my blood.

  As we descended, I lost sight of the dragon, though that newly opened sense in me still tracked its presence. Perhaps it had landed somewhere. The Nahanauns sang as we walked, an eerie, multilayered harmonic that seemed to speak of joy and triumph. Glimpses through the thickening foliage showed the vista clearing, the water gaining sparkle. Freed of the sulfurous stink, the air carried other scents—of flowers, the loamy soil, and cooking food. My stomach rumbled, reminding me how long it had been since I’d eaten—not since dawn, and now the sun declined to the horizon—and Nakoa, nearly at head height with me, glanced over at the sound and very nearly smiled. The language of the body, indeed. In that we managed to communicate. He patted my calf, a caress that slid down my leg, where his fingers lingered briefly, easily encircling my ankle.

  I tore my gaze away, wishing fiercely that I dared put on my stockings again.

  We could get through this feast. I could get us through this. If I’d managed to survive Uorsin all those years, I could find my way around this unpredictable king with his dagger-sharp eyes and lingering touches. Why he’d picked me of all people for his ritual that freed the dragon, I didn’t know. I might never know, which—much as the possibility rankled—I’d trade for putting distance between me and this island. I’d done my part, so he should have no reason to prevent my departure.

  Goddesses make it so.

  We passed the way to the harbor, heading down another branching pathway that led around the curve of the island. A fresh breeze off the water greeted us, cool on my sweat-damp brow, where my hair clung in soaked curls against my temples. The Dasnarians in their armor must be sweltering, but they showed no sign of it, striding along in stoic silence. Jepp, walking on the other side of Zynda from the king, gleamed with sweat also, though she looked good with it, brown skin shining with golden light. She’d calmed on the walk, though I knew from keeping company with Ursula that this was the peace of preparing herself for battle, not of conflict resolved.

  We traveled through a tunnel of trees, clearly tended so their branches wove together in an arch overhead. They dripped with panicles of flowers in soft hues of lavender, pink, and buttercup, like a rainbow at a rainy sunrise. As we emerged, a golden palace came into view. Not at all what I expected from a king who went barefoot.

  Where the cliff city at Annfwn rises vertically, built into both human-made and natural caves, this place sprawled out over ledges and terraces. Columns held up balconies that contained only gardens, and large expanses of the polished gold stone, big enough to be ballroom floors, led to steps that descended directly into the crystal blue water of the sea. In the gloaming, torches and candles gleamed from the interior, reminding me of Annfwn with a kind of nostalgic homesickness.

  Under me, Zynda shifted and huffed out a long breath, making me wonder if she felt it, too. Though Annfwn was her home and never mine. Thus it shouldn’t feel like homesickness. Odd that I connected that feeling—that lingering ache of loss for my family home at Columba—with Annfwn and now here. Maybe because I’d been happy in Annfwn and had come to associate that feeling with this sort of sight.

  Nakoa touched my a
nkle and gestured at the palace, asking me a question, eyebrows raised. Did he ask what I thought?

  “It’s very beautiful,” I told him and he tilted his head, listening.

  We started forward again, winding down the hillside. When we reached the land-side entrance of the palace, another broad expanse of polished stone, Nakoa spoke to Kral, making it clear that he and his men should wait. Kral halted, giving us a warning look that we hardly deserved. Nakoa walked the three of us forward. At least he allowed Jepp to remain.

  His warriors peeled off to the sides, taking up stations around the perimeter, holding their spears butt-end down before them. Then the doors opened, spilling light into the fading evening, and children came dancing out. Unlike Nakoa’s warriors in their scaled armor, the children were dressed in pastel scarves, like the panicles of blossoms in the arbor. They sang as they moved, creating a complicated pattern of color, and dropped handfuls of white flower petals, perfuming the air.

  A group of young women followed, all luminously beautiful and dressed the same way. The foremost carried a wreath of white flowers with exotically trailing petals. She smiled at me, a reserved, closed-mouth curve of her lips very like Nakoa’s. Family resemblance or cultural? Nakoa gestured to the young woman, who stopped before him.

  “Inoa,” he said, then put a much-too-proprietary hand on my knee. “Dafne.”

  She inclined her head, saying something much longer with my name, then handed the flower wreath to Nakoa. He lifted it, making it clear he wished to place it over my head. The children halted their dance, holding whatever pose they’d been in—a fantastic demonstration of athletic skill—their song falling similarly silent.

  “I don’t like this,” Jepp grumbled. I was beginning to wish I had a jewel for every time she said it.

  “And I don’t see a way to refuse this without insult,” I replied. I leaned down, and Nakoa, catching and holding my gaze, placed it over my head. “Thank you,” I told him, hoping that’s what this was about.

  Inoa clapped her hands together over her heart and bowed, the children bursting back into song and movement at the signal. The other women added their voices to the song, augmenting the sweet sopranos with darker harmonies and languid hand motions that seemed to go with the song. It all seemed directed at me, a kind of joyful welcome.

  When they finished, Nakoa spoke and the other young women approached, concern on their faces. He touched my ankle again and Inoa moved to look at the bottom of my foot. They exchanged words and seemed to come to a conclusion that involved Inoa sending the other women on an errand. Nakoa held up his hands to lift me down and Inoa stepped back.

  “Do you think you can stand?” Jepp came around Zynda to be ready to guard my back. “The sole of your foot looks pretty torn up from here.”

  “I don’t know. They ache but are mostly stiff, I think.” But I couldn’t ride Zynda into the lovely palace. The floors seemed to be inlaid with intricate wood patterns that her hooves would likely scar. Bracing myself, both for touching Nakoa and in anticipation of pain, I swung a leg over Zynda’s neck, making sure to keep my skirts tucked between my thighs as I did, then set my hands on Nakoa’s shoulders. He put his hands on my waist and nearly encircled it, they were so big. With great care, he lifted me, then lowered me to the ground, Inoa giving him advice the whole while, by the sound of it.

  My toes touched the ground. Thankfully Nakoa still held most of my weight, because I nearly blacked out from the sudden shock of pain. It rolled over me in a nauseating wave—far worse than I’d been prepared for. Vaguely I recalled reading somewhere that foot injuries hurt the worst of any. And here I was, living the reality I’d only read about.

  Had I longed to be in the center of events instead of at the periphery? A wish I’d take back at that moment.

  Nakoa instantly swung me up in his arms again and carried me into the palace, while Inoa trotted alongside, speaking nonstop in a chastising tone. He looked blackly angry and I longed for the words to point out that if he hadn’t taken off my shoes and stockings, this wouldn’t have happened. Jepp and Zynda—back in human form—brought up the rear. By the set of Jepp’s jaw, she blamed herself for this.

  After a maze of hallways, we entered an enormous bedchamber, ringed by nearly a full circle of balconies that looked out over the tranquil sea. I didn’t see much, what with the pain and concentrating on not being physically ill on the king of a foreign nation. With more gentleness than I’d have credited him for, Nakoa set me on the bed, laying me against a mound of pillows and keeping one arm braced under my calves, so my tender feet wouldn’t touch the covers.

  Inoa slid a cylindrical pillow under my legs, replacing Nakoa’s arm, and, edging him out of the way, adjusted the pillows under my head. Worried about crushing the gorgeous flower garland, I moved to pull it off over my head, but she stayed my hands and gave me a small shake of her head and an unmistakable warning look. She smiled when I subsided.

  Then, speaking sharply, she indicated that King Nakoa should leave. He lingered a moment, paying no attention to her, but studying my face. He said something to me and touched his index finger to his full lower lip. Inoa answered in a tart tone. With one last scowl for her, he left.

  11

  The other young women streamed in, bringing various supplies, Inoa directing them in a much less sharp tone now that King Nakoa had departed. Jepp took up a guard position at the head of the bed while Zynda prowled the room, investigating.

  “Okay,” I said to them in Common Tongue, both because we needed to talk and because I needed the distraction from my throbbing feet, “what do we make of all this? Think Inoa is related to King Nakoa KauPo?”

  At my words, Inoa looked up, gave me a far warmer smile than before, placed her hand over her heart, and said, “Inoa KauPo.”

  “I am honored to meet you,” I told her, returning the smile. “That answers that. Wife or sister?”

  Zynda returned from her explorations, climbed onto the bed on my other side, being careful not to jostle me, and settled into a cross-legged sitting position. “Sister or other relative, unless the king has multiple wives. You’re currently in his bed.”

  “Danu’s tits,” Jepp swore, a sentiment I shared.

  “How do you know?” I asked Zynda, though I didn’t disagree. The few things I could see from my vantage echoed Nakoa’s tattoos and jewelry, including the sinuous dragons that formed the posts of the bed, holding the frame from which very light fabric hung, gathered at the four corners.

  “Besides that everything here smells of him?” Zynda smiled wryly. “He set his weapons down over there. This is his space.”

  “Can you smell that well?” I asked her. I hadn’t really noticed a strong scent to the man, but then I’d been distracted.

  Zynda slid a look at Jepp, weighing how much to tell, apparently. Then she shrugged. “If we spend enough time in an animal form, we can retain some of those aspects. Human senses aren’t all that different from those of animals; we just emphasize the information differently in our minds. Being an animal that uses its sense of smell extensively teaches us to pay more attention to what our human noses scent.”

  Oh, yes, Jepp would want to take advantage of that. I started to say something, but Inoa put a hand on my ankle, interrupting us. She spoke to Zynda, miming holding my ankles down. Wonderful.

  “Hold on.” Zynda patted my hand. “They have some ointments, so hopefully those will numb the pain. Just get through the application.”

  She took over for Inoa, holding my ankles in a relentless grip. Thoughtful of Inoa, to have my friend do this instead of one of her people. After that attack of panic on the mountain, I might not be able to withstand being trapped again so soon by someone unknown. Bad enough to endure it at all. To my surprise, Jepp took my hand. “Squeeze hard if you have to,” she advised. “Seems strange, but it truly helps.”

  Inoa asked a short question. Assuming she asked if I was ready, I squeezed Jepp’s hand and nodded. The cool slap of oint
ment on both feet at once made me cry out, tears stinging my eyes, the nausea rising again, the edges of my vision going black with crimson bursts. Adventure was definitely overrated. Inoa’s ladies crooned an encouraging sound, adding more of the stuff. Gradually the pain lessened and my feet did go blissfully numb. I realized I held Jepp’s hand in a death grip, crushing her knuckles, and apologized.

  “You did good, librarian,” she said, keeping my hand when I would have let go. “Worthy of any of the Hawks. Foot wounds sting like Danu’s tits. But you’re not through this yet.”

  She called it. Inoa’s ladies brought over a wash basin and pulled up a table covered with gleaming tiles of all colors to set it on. They set to bathing my feet, which I felt even through the numbing ointment. Worst was when they picked up tools with sharp edges and pointed ends, digging into my flesh, making me grateful Zynda held me so securely, as I could not have done it myself.

  “They’re picking stuff out,” Jepp told me. “Little rocks, dirt, stuff like that. That’s good because it means they know about preventing infection, but it’s probably better not to look.”

  So I lay back and stared up at the ceiling. Like the floors, they were also formed of long strips of wood, shading from dark brown to pale sunlight, coming together at a peak. Recalling the way I’d lectured Jepp on ignorance of Dasnarian customs and accepting Kral’s invitation to his bed, I sighed to myself.

  “It’s probably a really bad sign that I’m in his bed, isn’t it?”

  Zynda tossed her hair over her shoulder to look at me without breaking her grip on my ankles. “He’s clearly taken a personal interest in you.”

  “If that kiss was any gauge, yes.” Jepp gave me a crooked smile, a shadow of her usual cheeky grin. “Seriously hot from the outside.”

  From the inside, too. I didn’t want to think about that. “It was part of that ritual.”

  “Definitely.” Zynda nodded. “But, speaking from an animal perspective, all of his body language toward you shouts possessiveness.”