Braid of Sand

by Alicia Gaile

  Ornate chalices and another bottle of the satyr wine she’d tried to ply him with stood on a shelf behind the altar.

  His teeth flashed. Her attempt to lower his guard with wine had been so earnest and clumsy he nearly offered her a kernel of his past out of sheer sympathy. He would have too if she hadn’t fallen into her own trap and revealed that she had a secret she was desperate to keep.

  There was nothing out of the ordinary about the altar, but somehow he knew it held the secret to how Raziela managed to send her basket of lettuce back to their world.

  BANG!

  The door to the courtyard flew open so hard it bounced off the wall behind it. A gust of wind came shrieking in. Startled, Castien stumbled backward and fell. He landed on his back on the stone table. Groaning, the slab shifted, and the next thing he knew he was falling. He expected to feel the floor, but it never came. Instead, a familiar rushing wind whistled through his ears.

  17.

  Fingers walked like spider legs toward the dagger at his hip. Fast as a snake, Castien snatched the bony wrist and squeezed until the bones were ready to break. A gasp of stale breath sprayed across his face. Peeling his eyes open, Castien sat up until he was face to face with Kephas.

  “Looking for something?”

  Kephas tried to jerk away, but he winced as he was brought up short by the grinding pain in his wrist. Castien squeezed harder. One of the metacarpals beneath his fingers started to bend.

  “Good. You’re alive,” Kephas gasped unconvincingly. He glanced over his shoulder to the squad of soldiers hanging back waiting for a cue to act. Castien followed Kephas’ pleading look with a warning glare of his own. All five soldiers shuffled back a step. Kephas’ shoulders sagged with disappointment.

  “What were you doing?” Castien didn’t release the prince, but he loosened his hold enough there was no danger of accidentally breaking a bone if the Prince said something he didn’t like.

  “You appeared out of thin air. I needed to be sure it wasn’t a spell. I doubt Naiara would’ve been able to recreate the family crest on your hunting knife down to the last detail. I was just looking at it to check.”

  Castien arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by excuse. More than likely Kephas planned to slit his throat with his own blade and go back to the city claiming to have defeated him in single combat.

  “Interesting approach to test the quality of my dagger rather than whether or not I had a pulse.”

  Holding Kephas’s gaze a moment longer to be sure he got the message not to test his patience further, he released him and stood up. His head spun, but he didn’t show it. Weaknesses of any kind were luxuries he couldn’t afford in this world.

  What happened? What was he doing back here? Raziela. What was she going to think?

  “What happened to you?” Kephas demanded, his tone sharpening now that his arm was free. “Where were you?”

  Castien was aware of the pear tucked into his pocket. Not for a minute did he think its distinct shape would go unnoticed by Kephas, who would demand an account for where it came from. While he didn’t owe him answers, it would be impossible to keep the story quiet once Kephas returned to the palace and informed the King of what Castien had found.

  “I know where the lettuce came from.” The words came out like a sigh.

  The soldiers that had reformed their line behind Kephas jerked in surprise at the mention of lettuce.

  “And?” Kephas’ leaned toward him, beady eyes gleaming.

  “They came from the Great Mother’s Garden.” Reluctantly, Castien withdrew the pear from his pocket.

  The color leeched from Kephas’ face. A gasp rose from the men as they realized what he held.

  Suddenly, Kephas’s brows snapped together and he jabbed his finger in Castien’s face.

  “Is that how you’ve kept your strength all this time? You’ve been slipping off to the Realm of the Gods to gorge yourself on the fruits of the Garden rather than seeing to the needs of your own people? Give me that!” He snatched for the pear, but Castien, who knew Kephas too well, held it up out of his reach.

  “I was only gone...,” He hesitated.

  Raziela thought she’d been gone a century when it had only been ten years. He shrugged as though it didn’t matter.

  “How long was I away?”

  Kephas’ lip curled.

  “What? Did Naiara’s delicacies come with the power to make you forget? Almost three hours, you selfish bastard!” Three hours? That was it? Castien shoved him aside.

  “Stop wasting my time. I have work to do.”

  “You think you’re going back? You think Father would trust you to think about anyone but yourself after this? You’re coming straight back with me to tell us everything you saw. I’ll haul you in myself if I have to.”

  Castien fired a look at him that dared him to try, but it ricocheted off Kephas’ overinflated ego without leaving so much as a scuff. Unperturbed, Castien rolled his neck until the vertebrae popped. Words had never been his weapon of choice anyway. As he started to crack his knuckles one by one, Kephas’ chief guard, Ilya stepped forward and executed a shaky bow. He had a distractingly large mole between his eyes Castien always had trouble not staring at.

  “Striker, it would be in everyone’s best interests if you come with us to inform the King what you found out.” He licked his lips and came a little closer. Castien surveyed them all. Not one of the soldiers would give him cause to sweat if he chose to stand his ground. Though each of them wore a pistol at their side, experience had taught him that it was for just for show. Neither Kephas nor Herodes could afford to supply that amount of ammunition for their everyday guards.

  He sized them up, debating in what order they would try to rush him if it came to that. There was no aggression on their faces—just hope

  “I have to touch base with my team anyway. If someone has a spare horse it’ll save us all a bit of time.”

  18.

  Before Raziela opened her eyes, she knew he was gone. There was a weight to his presence. It filled every space he was in so that there never seemed to be enough room for both of them. Even when they sat together in companionable silence, some part of her always felt she must battle him for the right to breathe her fair share of the air.

  She’d have an easier time forgetting about a fire roaring at her back than Castien standing in a room behind her.

  She lay for a long while listening to the echoing silence. Maybe he went to get something to eat from the kitchen. Or maybe he decided he’d rather sleep on the pallet she’d first offered him than on the floor next to her—Goddess knows her back ached after two nights of lying on the hard stone.

  But deep inside she knew. Denying the truth didn’t change it.

  Her belly knotted.

  Loneliness scraped her raw.

  As she started to stand, the heavy weight of her braid slid down from her shoulders. She reached up to cup her neck before the sudden weight jerked her head back, but instead of skin, her fingers brushed the cool metal of her gorget. What?

  She distinctly remembered taking it off for him to work his sorcery with his kneading fingers. He’d braided her hair and then put it back on? Why would he do that? Unless...

  The fear in her belly doubled. She scrambled to her feet. What if he’d...?

  Slinging her hair around her in a haphazard knot, Raziela ran for the stairs. She took them two at a time. Her skirts tangled around her legs and she had to catch the wall to save herself from falling and breaking her neck. Fear beat inside her like phoenix wings. What if he’d found a way into the Sacred Grove? Why else would he slip away when she wasn’t paying attention?

  As soon as she burst through the doorway outside, a cloud passed in front of the sun. Raziela tipped her head back. Was that the Goddess’s way of telling her she was angry? Well, if she’d made such a mistake, why hadn’t the Great Mother done more to warn her? She was only human after all while the Goddess was...well, a goddess.

  Raziela ski
dded to a stop in the courtyard and raised her hands toward the sky in helpless apology.

  “How can I keep the Temple open to all who seek sanctuary and bar the doors to anyone who might be a threat? If he tricked me, it’s not as if I have much practice dealing with liars.”

  The wind blew a soft caress against her cheek—reassurance from the zephyrs. They at least didn’t hold her lapse in judgment against her. Then again, nothing ever troubled them. The world could burn and crumble to dust, and the zephyrs would simply blow the grains across the universe. Even so, where had they been? Their absence throughout his visit was highly suspect. Conveniently for them, she knew no way to make them answer for themselves.

  “He didn’t find Vitales, did he?”

  If the Great Mother was hiding her face, perhaps they could give her some idea what had happened.

  Another brush of air like fingers stroked against Raziela’s face. No. He didn’t find that secret.

  Then why...?

  “Was it something I did?”

  Was it her? He thought she was sheltered and naive. Had she driven him off?

  A tug on one side and a brush of wind on the other. Yes and no.

  She did this? She drove him away?

  They didn’t answer—not that there was much they could tell her beyond what they already had.

  She shielded her face with her hands, going over every conversation they’d had. She thought back to the moment he’d spotted the garden. The rage. The longing. He claimed his people—her people—were starving.

  Getting rid of him should have made her happy. She couldn’t let him learn the Temple’s secrets. But a deep hollow pit was swallowing her insides. Was she really that unbearable? If the day ever came when the Great Mother let her return to her world would everyone there be just as repulsed by her as he was?

  “Daughter, what troubles you? I can feel your turmoil from here.”

  Naiara’s voice drifted from the Temple. Panic crashed over Raziela like a wave of cold water.

  “Come to me, Daughter. Tell me what is amiss.”

  Raziela swallowed with difficulty. Her legs shook as she approached the shadowy doorway into the Temple. She passed beneath the phoenix nests and a newly hatched Shula poked her head over the side of the fire bowl to watch her slow halting steps. Raziela wouldn’t have payed the hatchling any mind if one of her burning downy feathers hadn’t floated through the air to land on her head.

  Raziela swallowed the curse that sprang to her lips. She’d committed enough transgressions without adding swearing to the list. Caprea taught her how to swear, and ever since, she’d had to exercise fierce restraint to try and break the habit.

  She patted the top of her head until she extinguished the feather and it crumbled to ash. Her frantic slaps bumped a bruise from one of the many times the Shadow Striker managed to slip past her defenses. She hung her head.

  He’d fooled her so easily. And maybe she’d let him fool her because deep down she wanted to be deceived.

  She didn’t want the first person to walk through the Temple doors to be an enemy that she would have to kill. She’d overlooked everything she knew about him to mold him into an ideal that bore no resemblance to the man deep down she knew he was.

  Raziela wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. Instead, she laughed.

  “Come to me, Daughter. Let down your hair and tell me your troubles. Together we will see what can be done so all is well with you once more.”

  Naiara stood beside the altar. Her long black hair floated in the air as if she was submerged in water. Tiny dots of blazing light were scattered across her dark skin like freckles made of stars. She had a golden diadem on her head with a circle and two half-circles on either side to represent the dawn, day, and dusk. Her flowing sky-blue gown fluttered and billowed in the same currents of power that lifted her hair.

  Seeing her brought tears to Raziela’s eyes. For the first time that she could remember, she felt unworthy to stand before the Great Mother.

  She stopped walking. Her knees shook too badly to go any farther.

  Naiara tilted her head as if she was trying to peer into her mind. Raziela held her breath, praying that wasn’t one of the Goddess’s many talents. Before now it had never mattered. She had never wanted to hide anything from Naiara before.

  “I cannot read your thoughts, child. You must tell me what is wrong?”

  The Great Mother held open her arms. Her beautiful face shone with power and love.

  “Daughter of Light, I am here. Come.”

  Raziela closed her eyes and ran to press her cheeks against the skirts that were soft as a dream. Feather-light arms came around her, wrapping her in warmth.

  Castien was wrong. The Great Mother was nothing like the evil creature he described. He didn’t know anything about her. He was the one who was heartless. For someone so bitter at being abandoned by the Great Mother, he’d had no problem leaving her in the night to wake up and find him gone.

  There was a faint pressure against the back of her head as a touch of the Great Mother’s hand undid the entire length of her braid. It trailed behind her like a river out the door to spill into the sunlight bathing the courtyard in the start of a new day.

  Naiara liked to see her hair. Considering how many had turned against her, the physical sign of Raziela’s devotion was a source of comfort to her. Her hand stroked the black strands possessively.

  “Ah, my treasure, how I’ve missed you! Mazin’s crying kept me away. And those wicked zephyrs are no help, flitting around making everything worse.”

  Everything inside Raziela clenched.

  “He’s your child, Great Mother. Can’t you spare him a little sympathy?”

  “He is his father’s son, always spoiling everything. But you, Little One, you are my everything.” Her starlight smile illuminated her face, twinkling and distant.

  “But he needs you,” Raziela whispered. She curled her fingers in the fabric of Naiara’s gown.

  “Your heart is racing, Little One. What is the matter?”

  Her strong fingers slid through Raziela’s hair like the teeth of a comb. Raziela pressed her face against the pale skirts.

  “Nothing, Great Mother.” Her heart broke as she lied. “It was just a dream I had.”

  “Such strange things, dreams. I do not have them. Or perhaps I do. Perhaps the whole world is just a figment of my imagination.” She laughed. “How does one know if one is dreaming?”

  “Eventually, you wake up,” Raziela whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  19.

  Herodes bit into the pear with a loud crunch. Members of his court flinched, and one or two licked their lips. The King stared at the exposed core in his hand. His cheeks bulged while everyone else looked on.

  Castien stood off to one side of the throne and glowered at anyone bold enough to look his way. This performance was meant to add fuel to the King’s vendetta against Naiara. He wanted everyone to stare at that pear, to show them that such things existed, kept beyond their reach.

  That he was no better than she was by taking it all for himself didn’t appear to have occurred to the King.

  “You say a single priestess guards the Temple?” The King spoke with the bite of pear tucked in his cheek like a squirrel. A dribble of juice spurted between his lips, and he flicked out his tongue to catch the precious drops, going so far as to wipe at his chin before licking his fingertips to get every last bit of the juices off.

  Castien resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  “The girl is the least of your concerns. There are...creatures there. I would not advise launching a direct assault against any of them.”

  “But the girl.” Herodes would not be distracted. “Is she a prisoner or a guard? We all know the story of Ardelean’s daughter. He sacrificed her to save his own skin. She has no cause to love Naiara.”

  “But she does, doesn’t she?” Kephas stepped forward, watching Castien through narrowed eyes. “You’d have helped her es
cape if she was held there against her will.”

  Castien folded his arms over his chest so that his scar was on full display.

  “You think she’d thank me for removing her from a garden bursting with fruit to bring her to what’s left of this world?”

  “If she’s a true child of this kingdom she’d get on her knees and kiss your feet for freeing her from that viper’s nest”

  “She was secure enough there. I saw no reason to go to the trouble of moving her and making her life my problem.” He shrugged as if Raziela’s fate didn’t matter to him. His anger over the deception that had been done to her wouldn’t move them. However, the longer he kept his silence, the more it was working against her.

  “If the girl has her pick of the fruits of the Great Mother’s Garden, I find it hard to believe that she’s an unwilling victim.” Kephas stroked his chin and twisted to look at his father. “What do you suggest should be done with her if it turns out she has turned traitor? We could make a public example of her, but now’s not the time to go about creating a martyr.” He might have been deciding what shirt to wear for all the concern he showed over the priestess’s fate. The King shifted in his seat, irritable as a bear with a thorn in its paw.

  “Where’s Ardelean? You sent for him? Have him brought in.”

  One of the guards standing by the doors bowed at the waist and hurried out of the chamber. Moments later, the stamp of booted feet announced the arrival of a quartet of soldiers that led the unfortunate man into the hall. Lord Ardelean’s head hung so low it looked in danger of falling from his neck like an overripe fig.

  “I assume you’ve heard the news,” Herodes said when Lord Ardelean was brought to a halt in front of him. Even though he was in the act of lowering his frail body to the ground, his guards forced him to the floor with a hard nudge to the back of his knees. He collapsed with a small ‘oomf.’

  “What news, Your Majesty?” Lord Ardelean’s weariness put him beyond the reach of fear.