“Was it Vye?” Bronx asked. “Cause if it was Vye . . .”
The music changed again, and the crowd roared with anticipation. The thumping bass and screams drowned out all other sounds, and the smell of sweat and alcohol wafted past.
What good would it do to explain that while Vye had been the one to drug Ariya, I’d inadvertently asked her to. At this point, I just wanted to get out of this insanity. I raised my voice and yelled, “Can we go outside?”
Bronx leaned over and said, “Probably safer to stay inside. It’s an awful long drop if she tumbles, and she’s not exactly steady on her feet; not to mention her outfit doesn’t look like it’ll keep her warm. Grab one of the beds; they have veiling magic, so it’ll be quiet. Plus, if the bed is occupied, no one else can join you.”
I scanned the room looking for a bed, and Bronx pointed to one of the large tent-like structures. The base was a massive circle, and the silky-black fabric hanging from the ceiling draped the structure. “That’s a huge bed.”
Bronx grinned and pointed to one just to the left of the bar with the teal-haired server. “That one. No one’s been there all night,” the gargoyle said with a wink. “The ones by the bars are always the last to go.”
Ariya leaned into me, and I nodded my thanks to Bronx as I scooped her into my arms.
Pulling back the fabric, I dropped Ariya onto the bed and said, “Move back.”
Instead, she laid down and extended her arms to the side. “This feels so good.”
This was going to be penance for every wrong I’d ever committed. With a heavy sigh, I sat and shoved back, letting the curtain drop. Silence descended, and only a small cluster of dim lights illuminated the space.
“Why are you so irritated?” Ariya said, sitting up. “You’re always scowling.”
“I’m fine,” I said, uncapping the bottle of water. I took a swig and then handed it to her. “Take a drink.”
She accepted the bottle, sipped once, and handed it back. “Why were you in Datti?”
I blinked, remembering the first time I’d seen her. Had that only been two days ago? Seemed more like an eternity. “I was looking for the Tadaan.”
“Did you find them?” she asked, settling into a cross-legged position. “They’re hard to miss if you made it to the center of Datti. One-thousand-forty-seven of us.”
Wait. “You’re part of the Tadaan?”
She nodded, her green eyes wide. “My father said it was the safest way.”
Rashi. Talk about the perfect opportunity . . . “What’s your father’s name?”
She dropped her gaze to her lap, her chin dipping almost to her chest. Several seconds passed, and when she spoke, her voice was tinged with sadness. “Maki. But he’s not really my father. My mom married him after . . .” She looked up at me, blinking the tears from her eyes. “My dad was killed when I was young. Zafi isn’t safe, but there’s nowhere else to go is there?”
I shook my head because no matter how unsafe Zafi was, Sakari would be worse.
“What about your dad?” she asked scooting next to me. “What is he like?”
Ariya leaned against me, and I put my arm around her again. She rested her head against my chest and murmured, “Was he courageous like you?”
I snorted. “He was a jealous coward.”
Cocooned in darkness, I relaxed the walls guarding my privacy and my heart. It didn’t matter what I said here; Ariya wouldn’t remember it anyway. “He was first guard to the king of my people. They were best friends, went everywhere together. When the king went to Zafi to negotiate peace, my father went too. For over fifteen years, they came here—there—to Zafi. When there was a coup in Rashin, my father made sure the king was safe when he went back.”
“What happened?” Ariya asked.
“He grew jealous. My father got in touch with the Tadaan, and one day they attacked the king. He tried to act like he’d gone for help, but the queen found the letter on his person, evidence that he’d betrayed the king and had him killed. My father had been in love with the queen, wanted her for himself. Selfish, cowardly bastard.”
“I’m sorry,” Ariya whispered. She lifted her head and looked up at me. “That’s very sad.”
I nodded. “It is sad.” And yet it felt good to finally tell someone. I leaned over and kissed her head. “Do you have a sad story, too?”
She sighed and nodded, her hair brushing against my skin with her movement. “Yes. Do you want to hear?”
Chapter Eight
I leaned back on the bed and pulled her down with me, so we could look up at the lights. Staring up at the darkness, flickers of bright white winked at me, and in the enclosed space, the still-clinging smell of the desert intensified. If I pretended, it wasn’t that much different than if we were in Zafi looking up at the stars. “Sure,” I said. “I’d love to hear your story.”
Ariya was quiet for so long I lifted my head to peek at her. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was ragged. She sucked in a deep breath and spoke. “My mom met my father when she lived in Rashin. She was the crown princess, Imbiya Raun. Several Saki delegates—all of them Maciji—came seeking a peace treaty, and my mom fell in love with one of them.”
I blinked, resisting the urge to verbalize my shock even though I’d guessed her father was from Sakari.
“A few years later, about a year after I was born, a delegation came from a totally different world. My grandparents assumed they were like the Maciji, only this group . . . they didn’t bring peace but war. The men killed my grandfather and grandmother—my mother escaped with me, led by the guard my father had left to attend her. Months later, my father tracked us down in Ciki. I was too young to know what was going on, but many of my memories of my father were when he arrived”—she cleared her throat—“or left.”
I already knew where this was going. There was only one group of Maciji who regularly returned to Zafi, and I was almost twelve when my father betrayed them. My heart ached, knowing it was my father who was responsible for her father’s death. But what of the other delegation? “Do you know where that other group came from? The ones who killed your grandparents.”
“Kan-something. Kankara? Is that a place? I could just be making that up though,” she said with a long breath. “My head still feels funny.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins as she spoke, and it took several seconds of silence for her last sentence to register. I scrambled upright, my mind reeling as I put pieces of a puzzle together in a way I’d never even fathomed. I uncapped the water and coaxed her to sit up and have some, but my thoughts were stuck, riveted as I processed the implications.
If the delegation who killed her grandparents was from Kankara, that meant the leader of Zafi—and the Tadaan—was from Sakari. So why would one group of Saki attack another group—a group with the king in it?
My entire world tilted, and my stomach flipped. A weight settled deep in my chest, unfurling a sickening understanding to the forefront of my mind with nauseating conviction. I’d been such a fool. Ten-year-old Jäg was naïve, and I’d never even thought to question . . . I’d been manipulated and lied to, and I’d believed all of it.
“Are you okay?” Ariya asked, brushing her fingertips over my cheek. “It’s like you’re here, but you’re not.”
“I’m here,” I said and shook my head. “I just—”
My words evaporated as I focused on her.
Ariya was kneeling on the bed, her fiery hair falling in curls over her dark leather top. Her skin—paler than a normal Bidi—peeked out from the low V of her neckline as well as her exposed stomach and thighs. Her gaze dipped to my lips, and her breathing quickened.
“Have you ever thought about that kiss?” she whispered, scooting closer. She reached forward and touched my lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone like that before.”
I swallowed, trying to remember why it wasn’t a good idea to kiss her now, but the tip of her finger grazed my tongue, and I sucked her finger into my mouth.
>
She tasted like she smelled, of sunshine and fire. Throbbing desire pulsed through me, and I pulled her hand away as I sucked in a breath to steady myself. “If I kiss you right now, you won’t even remember it later,” I said, my voice husky with want. “It wouldn’t be right.”
Ariya rose onto her knees and inched closer, hesitating a moment before she climbed onto my lap. My heart pounded against my chest, pushing blood through me until it was impossible to hide my attraction. She straddled me, all of her softness pressed against all of my hardness, and said, “What if I kiss you?”
I froze for a second before bringing my hand between our mouths. Pulling away, I said, “Ariya, you think you know what you want, but you’re drugged.”
Ariya ran her hands over my chest and then played with the ends of my hair. “That girl with the purple hair said it would help me relax. She said I wouldn’t do anything I wouldn’t want to.” She pressed her lips to my ear and continued. “And I really, really want to kiss you.”
I brought my hands to her waist, and skimmed my thumb over her satiny skin. Ariya gasped and then traced the tip of her tongue from the top of my ear to the base before sucking my lobe into her mouth. I gripped her hips and groaned when she moved against me. I wanted her—ached for her.
“Please,” she whispered and brushed kisses over my jaw. “Please, Jäg.”
My mind clouded with want as she skimmed her breasts against me. I held her tighter, and she leaned forward and touched her lips to mine. Ariya kneaded my shoulders and brushed her lips over mine and then nipped at my lower lip.
I relinquished my control—my denial—and kissed her. She met me touch for touch, stroke for stroke, and kiss for kiss. Our tongues tangled as we pressed our bodies closer and closer. I licked her skin, tracing the feathering pulse in her neck from her collarbone to her ear.
“You are the sun,” I murmured. “You are warmth and light. You are beautiful.”
She arched closer, and the heat of passion swirled between us.
In one fluid movement, I flipped her onto her back and held myself over her. Her green eyes were lit with desire, and she parted her lips in anticipation. “I’ll be your ara, and you’ll be my uta. Zan kawo maka salama, za ka ba ni nasara. I’ll bring you peace, and you’ll give me safety. I’ll—”
Her words were icy water to the flame, and I stilled. She was speaking words of commitment, words she couldn’t possibly understand. Not if she was saying them to me.
She frowned. “What?”
“Ariya,” I said, pulling to the side, and sat back on the bed. My heart thudded against my ribs, but this time, there was trepidation flowing through me—trepidation and fear. “That is a marriage pledge.”
Not just a marriage pledge of Sakari—the royal one. I’d listened to Queen Clyn and King Shaidan recite the vows a few years ago.
Her eyes widened and her swollen pink lips formed an O. Her skin blanched and then flushed. “I-I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t,” I confirmed. My previous thoughts flooded back into my mind, only my concern and suspicions seemed even more valid now. “Where did you hear those words?”
Her fading blush returned, but she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said them.”
“I’m not angry . . .” Whoa. Even more surprising was the realization I was speaking the truth. “I just wanted to know who you heard say them.” I shook my head. There was a faster, less embarrassing way to figure this out. “What is your father’s name?”
“Maki,” she replied.
I shook my head. The name meant nothing to me, but the lack of emotion in her voice—the way she said the name, as if rehearsed a thousand times. “That’s his real name?”
She brought her chin up, but instead of nodding, she slowly shook her head. “Maki has been my father for more than ten years, but he and my mother married in a hurry, just before we moved to Datti. My father’s name was Traj.”
The missing link of the puzzle clicked into place with assured finality. Of course. Of course the crown princess, Imbiya, would be given in a treaty to the king of our world. But that meant Traj had led a double life, for over a decade. Did Queen Clyn know—Freezing rashi.
“Why were you dressed in black tonight? Were you wearing Bidi armor?” I asked. My stomach clenched, stuck in a vice of realization, my organs mashed and sliced. If Clyn knew . . . Was Ariya the reason for our attack on Datti? If so, I’d made it worse . . . Because if I hadn’t coordinated the delivery of the entire army, would Synam and his two men have called off the assault and gone into Datti alone to kill Ariya? And now? Would they know she was missing? Or was I jumping to unreasonable conclusions?
I stared, waiting for her answer, my temper frayed by my own stupidity.
Ariya worried her lip and held up her hand. “It’s not you I don’t trust. But I’m not betraying my confidences. Maki joined the Tadaan, about a year after Traj died. He said it was the best way to keep suspicion from us. I joined them six months ago when I turned eighteen. That’s when Maki told me everything. He said it was only right that I should know why he’d joined, why he’d trained me to be a warrior, and why I should join: to keep my mother and sister safe.”
Her mother and sister or her? The paradigm of my reality was built on layers and layers of lies . . . and as soon as I peeled one layer back, there were more. Many more.
“Jäg?” Ariya poked me.
What did she say? Lost in my head as I tried to make sense of the insensible . . . “I’m sorry. I—”
The air charged, and a moment later, a reverberating boom rocked through the air. Ariya and I stared at each other and then scrambled toward the fabric. She pulled back the thin material, and the roar of applause and music washed over us and then was lost after another deafening blast. Vibrant gold and red lights showered from the sky outside the open doorways behind the dais where the band was playing again.
“. . . invite you to all go outside for the grand finale,” the blue-haired singer said in her seductive voice. “Right this way . . . turn it up, turn it up . . .”
Grand finale. The end. And then what? Ariya couldn’t go back to Datti. I needed to figure out the truth, but to send her back would seal her fate.
“What happens next?” she asked. “Are we going to go back to being enemies?”
I shook my head. “You were never my enemy.”
Hoarfrost, I didn’t even know who the enemies were. Right now, it seemed like every-freezing-person was an enemy except Ariya.
“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Everyone outside,” the singer crooned, calling us.
“I guess we should go,” Ariya said, her brow furrowed, but she didn’t move.
What was she hoping I would say? What could I say? I couldn’t take her home with me, and I certainly couldn’t send her back. “Come on,” I said and scooted to the edge, my mind racing to figure out a different possibility. “Let’s go see what the finale is all about.”
I pulled her to me, her skirt lifting on the left side as she slid across the silky fabric. She giggled, the tension on her face dissipating with my familiar gesture. In that moment, I knew for all of her horrible experiences, she was still very naïve and sheltered, and I needed to save her frosted life.
She stood, her legs wobbling, and laughed a breathy chuckle. “I’d better find a bathroom before we go anywhere.”
We crossed the massive room, the crowd lessening as they filed out the back. As Ariya disappeared into a small room, I spotted the white-blond server chatting with one of the dozens of blue-haired women. Keeping an eye on the door, I skirted closer to him and waved at him to join me. He excused himself and practically glided over to me, pushing up his stark white sleeves.
“Jäg, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, realizing I’d spent the entire evening self-or-Ariya absorbed. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”
He smiled, a dazzling display of white teeth, though none of them looked especially long.
“Elohir. But that’s not why you called me over. What’s up?”
“Ariya can’t go back to Datti, the city where she’s from. It’s got to be close to sunrise, correct?”
Elohir nodded.
“Yes,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s a fairly good chance her city doesn’t even exist anymore, and if it does, she’ll be discovered and killed—probably within moments of her arrival.”
His silver eyes widened. “Are you certain?”
“I’d bet my life,” I muttered, glancing down at my black boots. I scuffed the toe along the stone floor as the truth bubbled out of my lips. “I was part of the team sent to wipe them out.”
I glanced up at him, and his pale skin blanched further.
“Oh dear,” he said. “That will never do.”
A gross understatement. “Will you tell . . . whoever manages logistics and all?”
He grinned. “Any suggestions? Anywhere else she could go and be safe?”
My heart flipped with the opportunity he was giving me. Then I would know where she was, and I could find her again. As soon as I got the information—the truth—in Sakari. I thought of the few cities I’d been to, but moving her to another settlement wouldn’t keep her any safer if Clyn tracked her down. The safest place would also be the hardest for me to get to, too.
“Rashin,” I said, frowning. Even though I knew what was best didn’t mean I liked it.
“What about Rashin?” Ariya asked from behind me. “That place is a cesspool now. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
I stared at Elohir until he nodded. He winked at Ariya and then held his hand out to me.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Jäg,” he said, shaking my hand. “It’s rare to find such selflessness on a night dedicated to indulgence. I’m honored to have met you. I’ll go see to it.”
Without waiting for my response, he turned and left.
“What was that about?” Ariya asked, sliding her arm around my waist.
My throat tightened. “I asked for a favor.” I glanced down at her as we walked out of the ballroom, trying to memorize her features. “I wanted to make sure I could find you again.”
The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 36