by Alicia Gaile
“Whisper your secrets to a willow and it will carry them forever inside its bark,” she murmured. He flinched.
“What did you say?”
“When I had just been given into service at the Temple, my caretaker, Dalia, used to tell me stories at night to put me to sleep. I was sad being away from my parents, and I told her that I was afraid of what the other priestesses thought of me because of what my father had done. So one day, she took me to the river and sat me under a willow tree and said, ‘Tell your secrets to the willow and it will carry them inside its bark. Let it do your weeping for you. Give it your fears to shed the weight you carry in your heart.”
Raziela smiled at the memory. The willows had been her favorite tree ever since. When she was scared or sad she told them her troubles and before her eyes, a knot would form. Then she knew her deepest secrets were safe where no one would ever learn them.
“There aren’t enough willows in the world,” he murmured so softly she wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken.
She was spared from coming up with a suitable response by a sudden weight on her line. It startled her so much she might have dropped the pole altogether if his hand hadn’t shot out to steady it for her. A short distance away, a wriggling silver fish jumped out of the water.
Castien’s jaw went slack as he took in the size of the bass. Careful not to lose her grip on the pole, Raziela offered it to him.
“Here. I’ll let you do the honors.”
When his mouth curved into his strange crooked smile, she found herself flashing back a shy smile of her own.
13.
“We can check to see if the hens laid any eggs. That should be enough to tide us over until lunch.”
They were on their way back with the large bass. The fish was more than enough to feed Raziela, but she doubted it would be enough to fill them both. Since she normally only needed one for herself, it hadn’t occurred to her to bring a net or basket to catch more.
Castien grunted and his eyes rolled closed at the mention of fresh eggs for breakfast. Raziela laughed.
“Since you seem to be such a fan, I’ll even be a gracious host and let you have the spare if they’re uneven.”
They crossed the yard to where the chicken coop was tucked against the side of the garden shed. The smell of stale hay and warm feathers hit them before hens’ soft clucking welcomed them in. Castien stayed right behind her, staring at the birds with that same strange wonder he regarded everything around the Great Mother’s Garden. They were just chickens. Surely he’d seen a chicken before.
Raziela only kept three chickens. Any more than that was more trouble than it was worth, but having them gave her another form of companionship, and it was the animals who reminded her of home the most.
There were seven eggs in total that morning, and she would give the extra one to him since he was larger and appeared to love the taste of them so much.
“If only I had a bit of milk to go with it.”
“You keep cows here too?” The question flew arrow sharp, and Raziela’s nostrils flared at his tone. Sensing her temper, one of his eyebrows went up and he looked down at her with a small smile lurking near the corners of his mouth.
“I’m a priestess, not a farm hand. I could never manage all my training and raise cattle as well.”
He watched her expectantly.
“From time to time the satyrs bring me goats milk from their herds.” And wine. Satyrs were known for the fine wine they brewed, but telling him about the barrels of satyr wine stacked in the back of the Temple wasn’t a confession she wanted to make just yet. Their wine was heady stuff, and having seen them in the throes of drink, she didn’t want to have to care for the Shadow Striker in that state too.
He did a small double take at the mention of satyrs, then he let out a gusty sigh.
“You have everything here, don’t you?”
“You can’t tell me that you never tasted milk back home. My father owned a cattle ranch on the southern end of Sestrand Harbor. It was far from the largest.” He opened his mouth as if he wanted to tell her something, couldn’t find the words, and then closed it again.
Raziela stole glances at him as they made their way back inside. What had brought him to her? She believed him when he said he wanted to savor the peace he found here. Peace. Ha! She was so tired of peace and quiet she daydreamed about hurling rocks through her own windows just for the disruption it would cause.
She started to say so and then bit the inside of her cheek to hold the words in. It was tempting to tell him everything she was thinking. He listened and seemed interested to hear her stories, but she couldn’t forget how easily he could carve the truth out of her innocuous tales. She needed to remember that he was the enemy and her duty was to protect the Vitales. Her job was to keep her eye on him until the Great Mother returned.
“Are you any help in the kitchen?”
She set the fish down on the table and went to the pantry to look through her ingredients. He chuckled without humor.
“I haven’t had much practice, but I follow orders well enough.”
A scrap of memory floated back to her of an argument among the other priestesses over whether a man had any place in the kitchen. A woman of middling years claimed her husband was useless in the kitchen, and one of the younger initiates pointed out that most of the Temple cooks were men.
“Can you crack the eggs into that skillet while I dice up these onions? I promise you can have the extra one, just make sure you don’t get any shells in the—” He crushed the first egg in his fist like he was squeezing a lemon.
“No! Like this.” Raziela reached into the basket and plucked out an egg. With a solid tap against the rim of the pan, she broke it in half and poured the clear jelly and yolk into the pan. Amusement rolled off him even though his mouth remained fixed in a straight line.
“Ah. Perhaps I should dice the onions then. I have a little more experience with knives.”
Raziela froze. The dead man with stab wounds in his chest could certainly attest to that.
He was testing her. Would she allow him a potential weapon? Did she trust him that much?
If she did, would she regret it? If she didn’t, would it reflect poorly on her?
“Chop them up small then.” She slid a cutting board across the table to him.
His approval slid over her as he pulled a knife from his belt.
He turned out to be efficient at helping to prepare their meal, confirming her suspicions that he’d botched the egg on purpose. When breakfast was finished, he patiently waited for her to serve it out. She made to spoon an extra helping of the eggs onto his plate, but he shook his head and said, “Only a little more.” So, she split the rest in half, and they each sat down with equal portions.
Again, he ate with careful restraint as if he meant to savor each bite even though it was only a few eggs sautéed with onions and a fillet of bass. Raziela kept her eyes down, but she was aware of every bite he took. His precise movements made her aware of how loudly she clattered and scraped her fork.
On an ordinary day, the noise was a welcome distraction, but with him silent as a shade beside her, it jangled her nerves. She felt clumsy and awkward, wincing each time her fork clicked against her teeth.
“And now, to the gardens?” He stood up as soon as she started to clear the plates. Raziela glanced through the window over the sink to judge how much of the morning they’d already lost, but the gray clouds that had drawn in were even darker than before.
The darkness hovering overhead made her stomach twist. It didn’t escape her notice that the clouds had drawn low over the Tower ever since Castien arrived. Did Mazin sense his presence?
His fascination with the gardens gave her pause. Was that his way of probing for information about Vitales?
“Actually, it would be better to visit the gardens some other time. Judging by those clouds, it’s going to rain.”
If he noticed the lie making her voice rattle, he d
idn’t comment, but the warmth of his smile cooled.
Regret shivered through her. So far he’d done nothing to warrant her distrust. Aside from his initial suspicion, which she couldn’t blame him for after holding him at swordpoint, he’d been nothing but civil.
Her gut twisted trying to wring itself out of guilt.
“Besides,” she said with a little too much enthusiasm to be natural, “it’s been ages since I’ve had a sparring partner. You strike me as someone who’s been around a training field before.”
His lips thinned. She pretended not to notice as she turned to dump the dishes in the sink.
“I’ve had some training,” he conceded. She held back a snort. Some? Well, at least he wasn’t a liar.
When Raziela swung back from drying the plates off, he was staring at his hands. She wondered again if he was trying to forget who he was outside of Naiara’s lands.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT to do this?” he asked as she came to a stop in front of the armory door. “We’re a bit unmatched, don’t you think?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you,” she said with a jaunty toss of her head. In truth, she wasn’t sure if sparring with him was a good idea. ‘Know your enemy’ was the advice the Great Mother always told her during training. She wouldn’t know what she was up against until she found out for herself.
“How generous of you. I’ll be sure to—what is that?” The door swung open and he froze on the threshold. She followed his gaze to the gleaming sword hung on the opposite wall. A faint glow of power radiated from a small crystal set just above the hilt.
“That’s Soul-Eater. The Great Mother’s sword.”
“The sword she used to fight her way out of the Shadow Realm? I thought that was just a myth.”
“It’s very true. Itzal loved her—still loves her, but he belongs to the shadows and she is the light of the world. When he invited her to visit his home, the darkness was nearly too much for her, but she managed to channel her power into creating this sword and she used it to fight her way out.” She took a deep breath. “She hung it in the sky as a warning to her enemies. She didn’t wield it again until the night she used it to free me.”
He went still as a stone.
“What do you mean? None of the accounts said Naiara appeared that night.”
She shrugged.
“Nothing from the Realm of the Gods appears the same when it is in our world. Here you can look up and see a sword, but in Phalyra right now you would be seeing a line of stars. When she used it to defend the Temple, it came down like a lightning bolt.”
The muscles of his throat flexed.
“And Naiara? What does she look like?”
“She is raw power. When she comes to visit she must funnel herself into a human form, but even then some of her power always leaks out.” His nod was vague as he continued to study the room.
“Are all of these weapons enchanted?”
The armory was a five-sided room with each wall devoted to a different type of weapon. Knives, swords, firearms, hooks, and throwing weapons.
“No. If a human touched Soul-Eater it would be a disaster. These were all created with human limitations in mind so she could train me.” She walked over to a rack of fencing swords, picked up a scabbard, and tossed it to him. His hand flew up to catch it, but he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away as if he expected it to explode the moment it touched his skin.
Raziela sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“It’s perfectly safe.”
He glared at her.
“Sabers?”
“If you’ve never used one I’ll be happy to give you a lesson.”
A muscle feathered in his jaw.
She strapped on a scabbard of her own and spun on her heel for the door. This was going to be fun!
HE GAVE HER THE RESPECT of not holding back his strength. His superior height and weight gave him an advantage, but Raziela was pleased to say that she didn’t disgrace herself.
After all, she’d had plenty of time to hone her skills, and she did her best not to smirk the first time she sent his saber spinning to the opposite side of the field.
“You’re fast.” His eyes roved over her, reassessing and evaluating. She tightened the straps on her wrist guard as if she was adjusting a lace glove.
“The night of the raid I was in the garden. I heard the riders coming but I was too slow to raise the alarm. I make it a point to learn from my mistakes.”
A shadow moved in his eyes and his lowered his sword to brush his sweat-slicked hair back from his face.
“Who taught you to defend yourself? The way you fight—the way you move... You didn’t learn that from anyone who worked in the Temple.”
“No. That came after...” She twisted so he couldn’t see her face. A breeze swept by her, and she leaned her cheek into it before smiling.
“The Great Mother began my training almost as soon as she brought me here, but it was hard for me to adjust to so many changes at first. I had nightmares almost as soon as I closed my eyes each night. It made me sluggish during training and prone to simple mistakes that tried her patience with me sorely. One night, when I couldn’t sleep I got up to look out the window and there was...” Words failed her. If the Goddess was all that was bright and beautiful then he was the absolute darkness that dwelled in the absence of her light.
“What?” Something dangerous crept into Castien’s tone. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword as if he wanted to go back to those days and shield the little girl who’d been left alone. She appreciated that sentiment even as she dismissed it.
“It was Itzal. Just as the Great Mother cannot bear the darkness of his realm he cannot visit this place by the light of day.”
“What did he want?” The whisper of danger around Castien became a roar. Raziela chanced a glance at him. Had she seen him like that in those first days, she would have clung to him like moss to a boulder. He looked capable of holding the world together even with the gods trying to tear it apart.
But there had been no Castien in her life back then—no Shadow Striker. Facing him across the field as an equal now, she was grateful.
“He warned me never to let the light of my faith go out. I had been given a gift granted to none before me and I must do all in my power to prove worthy of it. After that, my nightmares went away. The fear of letting her down was greater than my fear of what I’d been through. I think helping me live up to her expectations was his way of apologizing to her.”
Castien made a rude noise in his nose.
“Apologize for what? Does every creature in the universe offend her? Those ants over there, have they incited her wrath too?”
Raziela sighed and pushed back the damp tendrils that had fallen into her face. It was so difficult to tell this to someone who didn’t know the old stories, who didn’t understand the gods’ true natures the way she did.
“Humanity was Itzal’s gift to the Great Mother and it turned against her. If someone offered you a glass of wine and you discovered it was poisoned, would you blame the ingredients for making you sick or the one who poured them into your cup?”
“From where I’m standing it seems she flung the glass back in his face and more or less did both.”
“Perhaps she did, but in her place would you have done any differently?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. For the sake of the unspoken truce they had struck, she was content to pretend he was just a common soldier, but even without the glimpses of his past she had seen, their training session proved he was anything but.
“So what does their squabble have to do with you?”
“There is darkness and there is light. There cannot be one without the other. Humans were meant to be the bridge between them, Itzal’s attempt to make amends after Naiara was nearly extinguished in the Shadow Realm. They were meant to honor her for sustaining all life by her existence, but they’ve forgotten their place in the pattern and almost destroyed every
thing trying to seize what they were never meant to have.”
He blew out a frustrated breath and stabbed the point of his sword into the earth.
“She doesn’t need you to protect her, Raziela. She’s a goddess. You’re just a girl!”
All of the blood drained from her face.
Quickly, she barricaded her emotions behind a wall of anger. Maybe she didn’t know all that had happened in his world since she’d vanished from it, but how dare he act as if she didn’t know her own place in the tale!
She smacked the flat of her saber against the side of her leg, signaling that their break was over. Her anger was so intense she half expected to see heat waves shimmering above her skin.
He watched her warily. An apology formed in his eyes, but before he could voice it, he rolled his shoulders and shrugged it away. Raziela understood. They were opponents. He didn’t owe her anything. Just because they’d spent one enjoyable morning together didn’t mean it erased who they were and what they believed.
She had one purpose, and that was to protect the Sacred Tree. He put it at risk simply by being in the garden.
Her strength knocked him back when their swords clanged together next. Surprise and admiration flickered in his eyes before he readjusted his grip and forced her away with a shove. In a real fight he’d have probably driven his guard straight into her nose.
Her sandals skidded across the pebbled training pitch even though she dug in her heels. He lunged. Rather than block the strike, she dropped her sword to grab under his extended right arm, pivoted, and flipped him over her head with a hard thrust of her hip.
The back of his head thudded against the ground, and the air left him in a harsh gasp.
Before he could react, she had his arm twisted behind him and she settled her weight across his shoulders. If they were fighting for their lives, this would be the moment she struck a killing blow to the side of his neck or the back of his head.
Every muscle in him turned to stone as if his instincts roared to keep fighting and he had to force his body to yield. Her weight alone wasn’t enough to hold him down, but the angle of his arm would dislocate his shoulder if he forced her to drive it higher waiting for him to tap out. Success sent a warm flush sweeping through her.