“Will you be there?”
He nodded, but only after some hesitation. “Yes. At least until the light is gone.”
This was the closest he’d come to acknowledging his disappearances at night.
I studied him, watching his pale blue irises flicker with hints of gold. Though I hadn’t seen the black hawk since that night with the wolves, I felt certain it was Edan.
It was as if the sun and moon were helping him keep his secret. The past few days had grown so long that night lasted merely a few hours. And when night did fall, the moon hid behind the clouds, wrapping such a dark blanket over the landscape, it was impossible to stay awake. Soon, though, the days would grow shorter again.
“How did you make that coin disappear?” I asked.
“With the children?” Edan said. “Just a little trick I picked up during my travels, not real magic. I could show you if you like.”
I realized I wouldn’t learn his secret tonight, not while we made camp with Orksan’s family. I stood. “Maybe when I’ve finished the dresses.”
I left to sit alone on a rock near the camels. There, with my back to the sun, I worked on my embroidery. The light was gentle yet brilliant, casting upon the sand a red-orange glow. After my ordeal in the Temple of the Sun, I’d never expected to enjoy basking in its light again.
“Enough with the knitting,” Orksan said, coming up behind me.
I pushed my needle into the edge of my embroidery so it wouldn’t drop into the sand. “I’m not kn—”
“We’ve opened three casks to enjoy, and your husband is already partaking. Come join him.”
So everyone did think Edan and I were married. My eyes widened. “I don’t drink much. I really have to get back to work—”
“Woman, you have all your life to sew pretty things,” Orksan said. “Enjoy yourself for a night. What, is the world going to end if you don’t finish your needlework?”
Yes, I almost muttered.
But then I saw Edan. He was smiling, and he raised his hand to wave me over. How happy he looked here. Happier than I’d ever seen him in the palace.
“My wife loves good food,” Edan said, wrapping his arm around me, “though the desert’s offerings make it hard for her to make a decent meal.”
I wasn’t as mortified as I thought I would be when Edan called me his wife. And that was mortifying in itself!
“Will you stop blabbering so we can start eating?” I cried.
Everyone laughed at me, and I blushed. I hadn’t meant to cry out like that. I’d gotten so used to being around only Edan that I’d forgotten to mind my manners.
No one seemed to be offended, though, and I got up to help Korin serve the men and children. The stew smelled delicious. It was a feast of spices, with chunks of cactus and juniper, though I didn’t recognize the meat.
“What are we eating?” I asked Korin.
She glanced at me, as if I didn’t want to know.
“You can tell me.”
“There was a storm a few days ago, and the morning after, our camp was crawling with rats.” I eyed the pot skeptically as she continued. “Never heard the men curse so much while hunting.” Her shoulders shook with amusement. “I started drying some of them into jerky, but we’re so close to getting out of the Halakmarat, Orksan wanted a nice stew.”
“Oh…,” I said, spooning an extra-large serving for Edan. My hunger had subsided.
Korin smiled at me. “They’re delicious, I promise. And there’s some beans I’ve been saving. Since we’re almost out of the desert and have new friends, what better time?”
We ate, laughing and getting to know each other until one of Orksan’s brothers claimed the blanket next to me. He didn’t smile as the others did. A string of coins interlaced with human teeth dangled around his neck, and a copper earring hung from his left lobe. He made me uncomfortable.
“You don’t look A’landan,” Orksan’s brother said, eyeing Edan suspiciously. “Your trunk is full of books and amulets. Books in languages I’ve never seen.”
“Vachir!” Orksan barked. “Did you go through his things?”
Edan waved him off, but I could tell his smile was forced. “It’s fine.”
Vachir’s stare didn’t leave Edan. “There’s word Emperor Khanujin’s enchanter is away. The shansen has offered a great deal of money for his capture.”
Edan chuckled. “Do I look like an enchanter?”
“The enchanter is away on a quest,” Vachir repeated. His icy stare moved to me. “With the imperial tailor. They were seen in the Samarand Passage.”
My breathing became shallow.
Had Norbu seen Edan, too? He must have spread word we were traveling together, knowing it’d cause trouble for us.
Gritting my teeth, I summoned my courage. “The imperial tailor is a man!” I said in as shocked a tone as I could muster. “I couldn’t sew for the emperor. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Perhaps the girl is who she says,” Vachir said gruffly, “but you—” He pointed his jug of ale at Edan. “You are not just an explorer.”
“Vachir,” Orksan cautioned. “It’s rude to interrogate our guests.”
With a growl, Vachir got up. He gave Edan a long, dark stare before he stalked off behind the horses.
“Don’t mind him,” Orksan apologized. “My wife doesn’t like him either. Luckily, he comes and goes from our camp.”
That did nothing to soothe my worries. Edan laughed with Orksan’s men, trying to brush off the incident. But the muscles around his eyes were tight—he was worried.
“Drink!” Orksan’s men said, passing around a wine gourd. “Drink!”
I lifted the gourd to my nose and sniffed. I made a face—the wine smelled sour.
“Women can drink too. No law against it.”
“Just a sip,” I said, taking a swig. I coughed. “It burns.”
Edan took the gourd and patted my back. “Never had wine before?”
“Of course I have,” I spluttered.
“Wine at the temple doesn’t count,” he teased.
He’d got me. I’d only ever drunk rice wine at the temple and had never had more than a sip. But once, my brothers had brewed ale out of barley, and it was awful. They drank it all in one night, and afterward their clothes reeked so badly I spent an entire day washing out the smell.
My eyes watered with memories of Finlei, Sendo, Keton, and me as children. I wondered how Baba was doing, whether he’d gotten the letters I’d sent from the Samarand Passage and the news that I was now the imperial tailor. I hoped he was proud of me, that he and Keton had spent the money I sent, and had enough to eat. Winter would come to Port Kamalan all too soon. I vowed to write them tonight.
“It wasn’t something my father kept in the house,” I said evasively, remembering the difficult months Baba had spent after Mama’s death.
“But you had three brothers.”
“Three overprotective brothers,” I reminded him. “I still have one.”
“I’d like to meet him someday,” Edan said after finishing his stew. There was a dot of sauce on his cheek, and I fought the urge to wipe it off with my finger. “Do you think he’d approve of me…as your husband?” He winked, and I had to clench my fists to keep from punching him in the ribs.
“You haven’t met the girl’s family yet?” Orksan said.
“We’re on our way to her home now,” replied Edan smoothly.
As Edan launched into a ridiculous tale about how we’d met and gotten married, I wanted to cover my face with my hands. I’d run away from a terrible match with the local butcher, he told them, stowing away in his caravan, only for Edan himself to fall in love with me—I was so mortified I simply took another drink. And another. The more I drank, the less it burned my throat. The less I worried, too, about Lady Sarnai’s dresses or Vachir or Keton
and Baba at home without me.
“Easy there,” Edan said, pushing the gourd from me.
“He doesn’t want you to sleep too well,” one of Orksan’s men piped up.
The men chuckled, but Edan didn’t. I dipped my head low, not knowing if the flush on my cheeks was from embarrassment or from the wine.
The men began exchanging stories, and when it was Edan’s turn, he drew a little wooden flute from the folds of his cloak. He whistled often when we were traveling. But I’d never heard him play.
“I never can remember the words to songs or stories,” he said with a laugh. “But I can remember the notes to a tune.”
He pressed the flute to his lips. The sound was sweet, and there was an innocence about the melody, one that tugged at my heartstrings. Even the children were quiet as Edan played, the little boys tapping their feet to the rhythm.
Above us, the flushed moon rose. The sky was brilliant amber, streaked with honey and persimmon. The moon climbed steadily, a pink rose blooming amid soft flames.
I sat cross-legged on my blanket and gazed at Edan. Normally I wouldn’t have stared at him so obviously, but the wine had washed away my caution. There was a tickle in my stomach as I listened to him. I didn’t want this night to end.
Edan looked peaceful when he played, as if he were serenading the moon. His face was burnt and tanned, as mine must have been. The sky slowly darkened to mahogany.
Then the song was over. Everyone clapped, and Edan bowed his head. He looked tired, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “The wife and I should retire. It’s getting late.”
“It’s not late,” I protested. I lifted my head to the sky. “You just want to leave so you can fly away.”
If I hadn’t drunk so much, I would have caught Edan’s flinch, but it was fleeting, and I barely noticed. He forced a laugh and patted my shoulder. “Up we go. The wife needs her rest.”
“No good-night kiss?” Orksan teased.
Orksan’s brothers chimed in. “Kiss her.”
“You can’t leave without a kiss.”
That tickle in my stomach returned. My head weighed more than I remembered as I turned to face Edan. He was already looking at me, a strange, hesitant flickering in his eyes. Was he going to kiss me? Orksan and his brothers chanted in the background, and my heart quickened. Was he leaning forward?
I couldn’t bear the suspense. So hastily I surprised even myself, I kissed Edan on the cheek. A quick peck, then I shot up so fast that Edan had to grab me by the waist so I wouldn’t fall.
Edan wrapped my arm over his shoulder. I couldn’t argue. My heart pounded, and blood rushed to my head when he pressed a gentle kiss on the side of my lips, just missing my mouth.
His lips were soft, despite the desert’s unrelenting dryness. A shiver flew up and down my spine, even though his breath was warm, and his arm around me even warmer.
The world beneath me spun. I felt Edan’s hands clasp under my knees, and the pressure of standing disappeared. He was carrying me! But I was too tired to care. He was strong, and he crouched low to enter a tent. I turned away from the light.
“Don’t enchant me into falling asleep,” I warned him drowsily.
“I don’t think you need any help with that tonight.”
I knew he was right, even as I defiantly tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m going to stay up. I’m going to watch you change into a hawk. Don’t you dare touch me. I know you enchanted me last night.”
Edan’s hand hovered above my forehead, but he pulled it away and didn’t touch me. “Sleep well, my Maia.”
Curse him, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They closed, and my mind lingered on a forbidden thought before slipping into slumber.
I wish Edan had kissed me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Pain roared in my ears. My head throbbed so violently I feared it would split in two. Standing up only made it worse, and every step sent a pang to my skull.
Edan’s grin didn’t make things better. “Morning, xitara.”
“Don’t you have something to make the pain go away?” I pleaded.
“I brought medicines for cuts, burns, and bruises,” he replied with a laugh. “Not for the aftermath of drinking oneself into a stupor.”
Miserably, I glared at Edan. “You’re the one who told me to drink.”
“I didn’t know you’d finish the entire gourd!”
“I don’t remember that.” I clutched at my temples, groaning. “My head feels like it’s being attacked by demons.”
“It’s not as bad as that,” Edan assured me. There were shadows under his eyes again, and I wondered how much sleep he had gotten. “Trust me.”
He passed me a canteen full of lemongrass tea Korin had brewed. “Here, it’ll help.” As I drank, he looked at me earnestly. “I shouldn’t have goaded you into drinking, especially so soon after a fever. I’m not used to taking care of another person.”
I softened in spite of myself. “Being an enchanter sounds like a lonely job. Tailoring is too.” I cleared my throat, feeling suddenly awkward.
Edan chuckled. “Come on. The others are getting ready to go.”
We were out of the desert by midday the next day. I almost kissed the Road when I saw it. On this side of the continent, it was merely a narrow, pebble-strewn path, but I didn’t care. Dirt, birds, even the buzzing gnats I had once despised so much—my eyes welled with tears of relief to see them all. And the river in the near distance—so much water!
Leaving the desert also meant parting with our new friends, including the two camels that Edan had agreed to trade for two of Orksan’s horses.
Korin and I hugged each other. “Good luck with your dresses,” she told me. “And thank you for your help. Write to me when you and Delann have settled into your new shop.”
“I will,” I said, pursing my lips. I wished we hadn’t had to lie to her. “I hope our paths will cross again.”
Edan and I waved goodbye as Orksan and his family left. Vachir wasn’t among the group; I hadn’t seen him since midsummer’s night. That unsettled me, but there was nothing to be done.
“I think you’ll like her more than Pumpkin,” Edan said, handing me the reins of my new horse. “Balardan mares aren’t as strong as A’landan ones, but they’re fiercely loyal.” He chuckled. “She’s even got freckles like you.”
I approached my new horse carefully. Pumpkin used to kick whenever I got too close. “Does she have a name?”
“In Balardan, but Orksan welcomed you to pick a new one. I’m naming mine Rook.”
“I’ll call her Opal.”
Opal’s freckles were like dots of honey, but the rest of her mane and coat were white as silk. She gave off a little neigh when I reached out to touch her cheek. I fell in love with her immediately.
“You like her more than me,” Edan pouted.
“That’s not hard to do.” I petted her mane again; then I offered Edan a small smile. “But thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “Have you finished the shoes?”
I huffed at the reminder. By my calculations, I was at least a week behind in my sewing. I took out my needle, certain I could finish embroidering one of Lady Sarnai’s sleeves before we were off again. “No. My own are in good repair, and I need to work on the sun-woven dress.”
“I suggest you readjust your priorities.” He pointed to the Mountains of the Moon rising in the distance. While most of the mountains had gentle, sloping curves, one was so steep I almost mistook it for a pine tree. Even in the summer, it was capped with snow. “See that?”
“Rainmaker’s Peak,” I said, nodding. My hands worked while I glanced up. “It looks like a needle piercing the sky.”
“You’ll be climbing that.”
“What?” I gasped. “It’d be suicide.”
“Not with
the proper shoes.”
With a sigh, I put aside my work and riffled through my sketchbook for the design Edan had drawn. I reached for my scissors to start cutting the leather. It was becoming habit to use them now, and I appreciated the help. They instinctively knew the size of my foot, and within minutes I had a perfectly good sole to work off.
“How will you enchant them?” I asked, holding the sole up to my foot.
“With magic that’ll get you to the peak. Alive.”
“What about down?” I asked.
Edan mounted his horse, motioning for me to do the same. “We’ll worry about that later.”
Up ahead was the Dhoya Forest, but we followed the river until we absolutely had to leave it.
We stopped to rest at a small, bubbling spring. I washed some of my clothes and fought the urge to leap into the water for a bath. Not in front of Edan, anyway. Still, it was good to wash my face for the first time in weeks. My skin was still healing, but already the cooler, more humid weather was helping with the blisters and peeling.
Edan watched the sky, a grim expression darkening his face. “We can’t take too long here.”
I scrubbed at my palms. “Why not?”
“We’re close to the mountains, but we need to cut farther north if we’re going to reach Rainmaker’s Peak. The next full moon is in four days. And night in the forest is dangerous.”
I frowned. I hadn’t seen him work his magic since we’d collected the silk thread from the desert. “Now that we’re out of the desert, can’t you use your magic to bring us through the forest safely?”
Edan pursed his lips. “That’s not how it works.”
“Then tell me.”
“You should learn to use a dagger,” he said, changing the subject. “There will be far more dangers here than in the Halakmarat.”
“Why?” I wrung the bottom of my shirt dry. “Because you’re planning to disappear again at night?” I didn’t wait for him to come up with an excuse. “Where do you go, anyway?”
“I go to my tent, just like you,” said Edan, wariness tightening his voice.
My fists curled at my sides. “Stop lying to me. I’m tired of it. You might think me a fool, but I’ve been around you long enough to know you’re keeping something from me—”
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