by Kate Sparkes
I almost regretted saving this trash from the fire. Though I’d found plenty of books full of good and useful information, this one was a black mark against those who had read and followed it.
I turned the pages backward. And in those days the monsters roamed the land, living as animals, without understanding. The humans came among them, bearing the bright and divine spark bestowed upon them by divine grace. And the Mother decreed that men should rule over the beasts, and that the beasts would find the Mother’s favour by submitting their wills to those of the spark-bearers, the humans.
And there it was. The grounds for hundreds of years of slavery and servitude, all built on this passage. It sounded familiar, at least in part. I’d read this in Verelle’s rooms. And yet—
The front doors burst open, flooding the dark library with light. Auphel entered, panting.
“Zinian is missing.”
I slammed the book closed and coughed at the dust cloud that puffed out of it. “What?”
“I mean, he’s gone. Jaid doesn’t know where he is. Neither does the general, and they’ve been looking for him for days. Have you seen him?” Her eyes were as wide as I’d ever seen them, and her fingers twitched nervously. I went to her and laid a hand on her muscular back to calm her.
“I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I reminded her gently.
“Oh, right,” Auphel sighed. She sat on the floor, cross-legged. It put her almost at eye-level with me. “I was hoping maybe you’d kept seeing him, even if you couldn’t let anyone know. In secret, like. He seemed happy when he looked at you. Jaid wasn’t wrong about things, but…” She shrugged. “I just wondered.”
I leaned against a polished wood table and frowned—not at Auphel, but at this sudden shift from what I’d assumed she felt toward him. My chest tightened. “Why are you so loyal to him after what he did to you?”
Her brow furrowed. “After what?”
“After he took you from your family to serve in his army. After everything you went through there, after the way they used you and broke you.” I nodded at her bad leg. “Anyone with a weaker spirit than yours would have been destroyed.”
She reached out a finger to trace the patterns on the brightly coloured tile floor. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I remember. I’m sorry.”
She nodded slowly, frowning down at her hands. “But I will if you won’t ever tell anyone.”
“Of course I won’t.” I sat on the cold floor with her.
“I owe Major Zinian an awful lot.” She took a deep breath. “Do you remember the ogre who was there when you were going to be sent away? Kringus?”
“I do.” He’d seemed a horrible, nasty brute. “Someone you know well?”
“He could have been. He came to my parents and asked to take me as his mate. He’d noticed my strength, and thought me beautiful. I didn’t want to go. He frightened me. He still does. But my parents said I had to. They had too many mouths to feed, and he was a good connection for them to have. I ran into the woods, crying, but there was nothing I could do.”
“God, Auphel. That’s horrible.”
She sighed. “He would not have been kind to me. No better than his first three mates. None of them lived too long. So I hoped and wished that something would happen to him. That he would fall into the lake and sink forever, that the humans would take him or he would be killed in the war my parents talked about. Anything to get me out of him coming to collect me. And one night there was a knock at the door, loud and hard. I expected Kringus, but it was Zinian and some of his soldiers. I crept out of my sleeping hole and stood in the corner while they talked about taking my brothers to fight, and me too. My parents argued that I wasn’t old enough or trained at all, but Zinian knew about Kringus. He said…” Her cheeks flushed. “He said if I was old enough to… mate… I was old enough to fight.”
I suspected that wasn’t the word he’d used, but nodded for her to go on.
“My parents agreed to let me go. I think Zinian would have taken me even if they hadn’t. I hated everything about being in the army, but it was better than Kringus.” She wiped a finger under her nose. “And a few years into the fighting, I got up the nerve to ask Zinian why he’d fought to take me when he could have just had my brothers. They were all bigger and stronger and good fighters. I was so bad at it, and pretty useless.”
“And?” I asked around the lump in my throat. I thought I knew what she was going to say, and felt ill over the mistake I’d made.
“Zinian did a lot of scouting, because he was looking for special kinds of soldiers. He’d seen me crying after the decision about the mating, and he knew what Kringus was like. He said he couldn’t stop Kringus directly, but he could recruit me. I was safer as a soldier than as a mate, see. He thanked me for working so hard to become a valuable part of the army, and said he saw something special in me. That he knew I had an important part to play. It made me feel important, you know?” A tear slipped out of her eye. “Since then I’ve tried not to let him down.”
“Then why are you afraid of him?”
Her cheeks flushed. “He makes me nervous, I guess. He’s powerful and important. It makes me feel funny when I get special attention from those kinds of people. It’s scary.”
“Well, shit.” I stood and paced the library as shame and regret battled for top position in my mind. “And you have no idea where he is?” I wasn’t worried about him, but wanted more than anything to apologize. I’d been the asshole in this situation. I’d rejected him when he thought he’d found someone who wouldn’t judge him for his appearance or his ideas. Hell, I’d rejected the only person who wouldn’t avoid me because of mine. All because I had jumped to a stupid conclusion about a once-frightening warrior and been spooked by my own too-quick feelings for him.
I thought back over our brief association, the kindness and acceptance he’d showed me, the connection I’d felt with him in spite of our outward differences, the pain in his eyes when I’d turned away from him. My chest tightened painfully, and I let regret settle in. I didn’t deserve to be spared it.
Dumbass. I really was no better than some stupid girl in a romance.
“Not one clue where he went,” Auphel said. “Jaid said not to trouble myself about it, but I’m worried. He’s been in such a low mood, but I thought maybe you were helping with that.”
“Let me think.” He’d said he wasn’t going to stay in the city, so this wasn’t surprising. What did concern me was the fact that he apparently hadn’t even told Jaid where he was going. They were friends. If anyone should have known where he was, it was her. I thought back to the night we’d dined together. He’d spoken of hunting in the woods and the harpy who had raised him. Nothing else that might help, but it was a start.
“Do you know where he grew up?” I asked.
She squinted. “Sort of. Alandra raised him, and she comes from the cliffs above the hidden forest. But I’m sure Grys checked there.”
“Hmm. But maybe he didn’t want Grys to find him. We’re not Grys.”
Auphel perked up at that. “You think he’d come out for us?”
“I don’t know.” If the hurt look on his face when I’d said goodbye to him last time was any indication, he might not want to see me. “All we can do is try. At least then you’ll know he’s okay.”
She nodded. “I hope he’s not lonely. Alandra killed herself when she felt her work was done with him, of course.” She said this as though it was unfortunate, but not unusual.
“Sorry, what?”
Auphel shrugged. “Harpies are strange. They don’t like outsiders bothering them, or even letting nature take control. They kill themselves when they think their work is done and their best years over. Better than wasting away, or something.”
And I thought I was a control freak.
“I think Alandra would have done it a lot sooner if she hadn’t had a baby dumped in her nest.” Auphel wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting creatures, but they pay their debt
s. They’re proud about punishing themselves for their mistakes and wrong-doings.” She saw the horrified look on my face and quickly added, “Zinian’s not like them, though.”
Nature or nurture. He’d said he felt useless, that his work was done. What had he said to me when I dismissed him? Let me know if you need me.
I didn’t think he’d let go over something as silly as a human’s rejection. Still, I raced upstairs to pack as quickly as I could.
Chapter Eleven
An hour later I was riding piggy-back on an ogre as she raced through a sun-dappled forest, water skins flopping under her arms as her crooked gait carried us toward the desert she assured me wasn’t too far away. In fact, we ended up camping at the edge of that forest, at the sharp line where the white sands of the desert began. I didn’t see any sign of cliffs, but Auphel assured me they were there.
“See the piles of rocks in the distance? That’s where we’re going.”
“That’s so far!”
She leaned back on her elbows and reached out with a long stick to poke the campfire we’d built. “You leave that to me, tiny person.”
As the sunlight vanished millions of stars appeared, spilling across the sky in a display more spectacular than anything I’d ever seen at home. I’d never been one for camp-outs. I hadn’t realized what I was missing.
We set out early the next morning to get in as much travel as we could before the sun fully rose, but the rocks never seemed to get any closer. By mid-morning we both reeked of sweat, and I felt faint from the heat. Auphel carried me without complaint across the low dunes, and I urged her to drink most of the water. She followed a road hidden beneath a thin layer of sand that allowed her to keep her speed up, but the exertion had to be brutal. I closed my eyes against the white glare and tried to rest.
I didn’t open them again until Auphel slowed hours later. She stumbled forward, and I hit the ground with a thud. Not on sand, but on grass.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “We’re here.”
I stood and brushed bits of greenery from my pants, then dropped my bag to the ground. “I’ll be damned.”
We’d reached the rocks, a trio of massive boulders on top of a lump of red stone that hunched out of the ground higher than my head. They crowned a wide gorge that had been completely hidden at a distance. We stood at the narrow end of the gap, which broadened as it sloped downward. The steep, grassy slope led down into a lush forest where the tops of the trees sat well below the level of the desert. Vines twisted through the deciduous branches, creating a tangled canopy so thick I was tempted to try walking on it. Auphel led the way below, climbing carefully over rocky outcroppings and loose stones.
I followed her into the cool, moss-scented darkness of the forest. It took some time for my eyes to adjust after the brightness of the desert, and for a few minutes I felt blind, surrounded by shadows filled with mysterious creaks and chattering noises. The forest world came slowly into focus, wild and frightening. Something crashed through the trees far to our left, and I moved closer to Auphel.
The leaves rustled in the breeze that reached them from above, but all was calm and still below. I heard the river before I saw it, and thirst I’d nearly forgotten about came rushing back as the water came into view.
“Is it safe to drink?” I asked Auphel. I unstuck my shirt from my sweaty skin. “Or to swim in?”
“Both,” she said. “But don’t get swept away. This river comes from and leads to underground caves. You don’t want to get lost in there.”
I slipped into the water fully clothed, and wished I’d packed soap. I’d be quite the sight if we found Zinian. But then, I suspected I’d ruined any chance of romantic notions on his part. I only hoped he’d hear my apology and agree to be friends. In this world, we were both judged harshly for our appearances. But we could stick together, tell each other that it didn’t matter.
If he wanted to be alone, I would let him. I just wanted him to know he didn’t have to be.
The river was cold, but not as bad as I would have expected from something that flowed from the depths of the world. That thought led to wondering what sorts of things might live down there and whether they were ever swept up here by the current, and I washed a little more quickly. Much as I was enjoying getting clean and hydrated, I wasn’t keen on having my legs chomped by strange monsters. I dunked my hair and washed the sand and dust and sweat out, then slipped out of my clothes and wrung them out underwater, scrubbing the dirtiest bits against the rocks.
Auphel joined me in the water and floated on her back. I grabbed her ankle as she drifted downstream, and she laughed. “Ogres taste terrible,” she said. “The ground would spit me out if it swallowed me.”
“Let’s not test that.”
I climbed out of the river and sat on a rock while the air dried me, then put my spare clothes on and spread the wet ones out to dry on a bush. Auphel hadn’t brought extras, so she just wore hers out of the water and dripped everywhere.
“Where to now?” I asked, after a quick meal of dried fruit and meat.
“This way.”
The gorge had widened considerably, and it took us a while to reach the stone walls. They rose straight up from the forest, smooth and beautiful, covered in rippling marbled stripes of cream and crimson. Auphel set her hands on her hips.
“There’s a path, but it’s too narrow for me.”
I followed her gaze and swallowed hard as my stomach clenched. Not a path, exactly, but a small ledge that climbed the wall, twisting back on itself as it rose. There, high up on the wall, was the dark opening of a cave.
“You’re joking.”
“If he came home, that’s where we’ll find him.”
He must really want to be alone, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t disturb him…
No. I needed to know he wasn’t there, wasn’t lonely or hurt or worse. No more letting my fears make my decisions for me, no more running away when things got intense. I squared my shoulders and hoisted myself up onto the small ledge where the path ended, then pressed my back against the wall and shuffled sideways.
“Don’t look down!” Auphel called.
I looked ahead instead, and stepped carefully over the washed out parts of the path. I swept loose stones out of my way with my foot and tried to ignore the increasing duration of the clattering noises they made as they fell. The first switchback almost made me give up, but I held my breath and stepped up onto the next level.
If there was ever a time to start praying, this would be it. But I had no interest in the Mother of this world if she made people into what the humans had become. I’d have to make it alone.
I kept moving. Check, shuffle, clear the path, shuffle, up to the next level. I had no idea how much time might be passing. I looked up to see how much farther I had to go. Not much compared to how far I had to have come, but the cave opening was still several body lengths above me.
My foot slipped. My heart lurched as I pressed my back harder against the wall and scrambled to find something to grab onto. Rocks and loose soil skittered down the face of the cliff as my right foot dangled over open air. The muscles in my left thigh screamed as they held me up, half-crouched. I forced myself to stand, waited until my heart slowed and the white spots in front of my eyes cleared, then checked the path ahead and stepped over the gap.
Only then did I realize how stuck I’d be if there wasn’t another way down.
Go down now. At least you know the path is safe that way.
But the top was closer, and I needed to rest my legs and my aching hands. And Zinian might be there. Just a little more.
A few minutes that seemed like eternities later, I flopped belly-first onto the small ledge that jutted out from the cave entrance. I got to my knees and turned to look down. The forest stretched out below me, verdant and lush, and the breeze that swept over it and past the cave held the metallic scent of the river. I breathed deep and waited for the tremors in my legs to stop before I stood and stepped into the ca
ve.
I didn’t see him until my eyes adjusted to the gloom, and the sight startled me. Zinian stood still as the stone walls that surrounded us, arms crossed over his bare chest, watching me. His face was a mask, showing neither surprise nor pleasure at seeing me.
I brushed the dust off my pants and realized I’d completely ruined the effects of my bath. Exertion and panic had coated my body with a fresh layer of sweat, and my still-damp hair lay in tangles over my shoulders. “How long have you been standing there?” I asked.
“I heard you and Auphel down below.”
I gritted my teeth. “And you didn’t think to come down to greet us?”
His expression didn’t change. “I didn’t ask you to come. I didn’t ask Grys’ men to come, either, and I didn’t come out to greet them when they called for me. I wish to be alone.” He stepped forward, and for a second I thought he was going to shove me off the cliff. Instead he motioned for me to come deeper into the shadows.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were leaving?” I asked.
“Because I’m not a captive in that city anymore, but I still feel like one. The only way I can prove my freedom to myself is to come and go as I please, without notice or permission. Why are you here?”
I rested against the cool stone wall and looked around. We were in a cave made up of smooth curves, like it had been carved out by wind or water. There was no furniture, no source of light save for the cave’s entrance.
I met Zinian’s eyes. I wanted to chicken out, to say it was nothing and maybe just toss myself onto the breeze to avoid making a fool of myself, but I owed him this. “I came to apologize.”
He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away. You’re one of few people who was kind to me when I got here, and I…” I hesitated. “I took some advice that seemed good. I thought it would be better for you if you weren’t seen with me.” I wanted to leave it at that, but forced myself onward. “And I was scared, because I like you. A lot. I um… I find you quite interesting, and I feel…”