Braid of Sand

by Alicia Gaile

  “Why?” Raw anger ripped out of her as she leveled the word at him like a sword. He flinched.

  “Why what?”

  “I showed you nothing but kindness. Why did you have to destroy everything that mattered to me?”

  He sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped. At her question, he bowed his head.

  “You saw the world I come from—we have nothing here.”

  “Then why did you leave? You could have stayed at the Temple. None of this had to happen. Or did you think I was just another weak person you needed to grind into the dust?”

  “I never once thought you were weak.” A trace of steel crept into his voice, but he didn’t rise to the bait in the way that she hoped.

  “Then why did you slip away in the night like a thief? Why did you bring those men back to destroy the Temple? Why?”

  “People are dying in the streets, Raziela,” he said softly. It cut her like a lash. “You saw for yourself how barren our land is, how corrupt the government has become. I thought... I thought if I could convince you that Naiara isn’t the merciful benefactress that you believe she is you would give what you had to feed us.”

  “I tried! I heard the prayers for food and I thought if I sent back even a little maybe that would be enough to turn more people to the Goddess and it would do some good. I stole from the Garden and lied to the Great Mother and all it did was bring you to my door. The Great Mother didn’t do any of this! You did! You and your father and brother. You are the ones who invaded my home and took what was never intended to be yours. You weren’t worthy of it then and frankly, you all deserve to starve!”

  She wanted to wound him. She wanted someone else to feel the terrible wailing despair that was tearing her apart from the inside out. But he just accepted the words she flung at him.

  “My father wasn’t always the coward you saw back there. Desperate times can turn even good men into monsters, I suppose.”

  “You’re saying it’s not his fault?”

  “No. We choose who we let ourselves become.” He presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. Raziela wasn’t ready to take pity on him yet.

  “I see. And are you happy with yourself, Castien? Is this the man you choose to be?”

  “I’m the man who rescued you from those vultures, who turned my back on my home and my people to see that an innocent girl was allowed to go free.” Anger rippled beneath his skin. Little by little, she was getting underneath his armor.

  “Priestess,” he started to speak, but thought better of it. “It’s your decision where you want to go from here. There’s not much beyond the borders of the city, but if you’d like to strike out on your own trusting on the will of the Goddess to protect you, I will take you wherever you want to go.”

  “Don’t you understand? I can’t run from my duty any more than you can. My role is to protect the Sacred Grove. Now that your father knows about it, it’s just a matter of time before he takes a whole army to destroy whatever’s left of it.”

  “And you’ll face an entire army? They’d cut you down without another thought. The Goddess seems more that capable of defending herself. She’s an immortal. You are not.”

  “Then what would you do in my place?”

  He paused, thinking.

  “You are a priestess. Live out your beliefs as you see fit. If all it takes to restore the good in this world is to believe in its existence, then believe in it. Give men like my father irrefutable proof.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If the Goddess blesses those who believe in her, then prove it with your faith.”

  He tipped his head to one side so that a damp curl fell over his brow. She scoffed.

  “You’re saying I should just start over and the Great Mother will shine her favor on me here the way she did there? That was before I broke my vow to her.” A quick swish of her head brought the end of her braid slinging around to lay across her shoulder.

  “You didn’t break it, Raziela. Kephas did that for you. Swear a new oath if it makes you feel better.” His chest expanded on a heavy sigh. “But I want you to think about something. Even though you were the one who grew it, the symbolism behind your hair went two ways. She obviously didn’t care about keeping her end of that bargain. So all that sacrificing you did in her name is worth about as much as...a braid of sand.”

  He lifted the end of her braid and let it slide over his fingers. A crash of thunder made her pulse leap. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to gather her thoughts scattered by his unwavering stare.

  “There’s one problem. There is still—” She bit her tongue. Did she dare tell him about her duty to protect Vitales? What if he tried to force the tree’s location out of her to take the information back to his father? It would be a way to win back the King’s favor after helping her escape.

  Some of the light went out of his eyes at her hesitation. He shifted his weight, putting a little more distance between their bodies. Even that small withdrawal was more than Raziela could bear at that moment. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, and it was taking every ounce of pride she possessed from leaning on him for comfort.

  “Do you know what the worst part is?” she asked in a voice that trembled with the effort it cost her to hold it steady. He raised his head but didn’t speak.

  “I dreamed of the day when I could rejoin my own people, and now that I’m here all they want to do is lock me away.”

  He swallowed audibly.

  “Like I said, it’s your choice what you want to do from this point forward.”

  He shifted away from her in the little space the cave allowed. She turned her back, pretending that was enough to block him out.

  Even without the ability to see him she could feel him behind her, breathing. She could practically hear each of his strong, steady heartbeats, and each one seemed to shout at her to take his advice and run. But hiding away in the cave with him forever wasn’t an option. Her duties were more than just serving Naiara. She had to protect Vitales.

  27.

  He didn’t like manipulating her, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed hiding her in plain sight would work. Of course, everything relied on whether Raziela was right about Naiara. That was the gamble. She believed in the Goddess with all her heart, and she’d been rewarded by living in the lap of luxury. He’d allowed his father’s bitterness to cloud his judgment, and he’d suffered just as the rest of the kingdom had. If faith was all he needed, well then he had it now.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  Raziela had fallen asleep some time ago with her chin resting on her knees. It didn’t seem possible so much could ride on one innocent young girl. Well, young was relative in her case, but still. She’d done nothing to deserve any of it, but she shouldered the burden anyhow.

  By and by, the storm blew itself out. The wind continued to howl like a petulant child, and he thought over the story Raziela had told of the Goddess who held her own offspring hostage from its father—all because she couldn’t forgive him for creating the human race that had scorned her. That lined up with the viper who haunted the stories he’d grown up listening to. If hope depended on appealing to that creature’s better nature, they might as well forget it and go ahead and wipe themselves out in one fell swoop.

  Restless, Castien stretched and got to his feet. Sore muscles protested as he peeled his wet clothes away from his skin. He glanced at Raziela to make sure she was still asleep. He’d never tell her how close they’d come to dying. After the Temple fell, the only person to successfully sail across the harbor to this island was Barak. As a boy, he’d fallen from his father’s fishing boat during a storm at sea. The waves gave him back, and ever since, he was as at home on the water as one of the merfolk.

  Their choice had been death or freedom. Incarceration wasn’t an option, and so he’d set their course. That they’d survived could not be a coincidence. Castien didn’t believe in coincidences.


  He walked a short distance from the cave with his eyes trained on the sky. Behind the still-spitting rain clouds, the blazing sun had given way to night. Here and there he spied stars through shredded gaps in the blanketing clouds. The Gleaming Brand glittered ominously. Castien rubbed his left arm.

  “I don’t deny your existence,” he said, speaking to a sliver of the moon peeking through the thin gray curtain. “But very little I have witnessed leads me to believe I should trust you.” He kicked at a clump of sand. “She believes in you though. She has more faith in you than anyone I’ve ever met. If what you want is unwavering devotion, then don’t you dare turn your back on her now.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance—a warning. Castien shrugged, comfortable with the idea of facing an enemy.

  “So long as you don’t break faith with her, I will do whatever it is that you need me to in order to restore peace.”

  He sank to his knees in the damp sand. A wave rushed toward him, flinging a thin layer of water to drench his shins. He flinched at the cold bite of the water. An image of Gursel floated up out of his memory and he shuddered to think of more like it hiding in the dark water.

  “I’ll serve you, Naiara, so long as you look after her.”

  DARK SHADOWS HOLLOWED Raziela’s eyes the next morning. She needed to get back to the Sacred Grove to protect Vitales, but with the Tower destroyed she was no better off there than here.

  Her belly growled and she pressed a hand over it as if that would smother the sound.

  “Here.” Castien was awake already, and he offered her a strip of jerky. There were lines of strain around his eyes and she wondered if his head still bothered him. Considering the pain he’d been in at his mother’s house, it was a miracle he’d managed to get them to the island at all.

  Her eyes glazed with longing at the sight of the jerky, but she pursed her lips and looked away.

  “I’m sure you need it more than I do.”

  “My body’s used to less food. Yours isn’t.”

  She looked at him sharply, expecting an accusation. There was none there.

  “How often do storms like that come through?” She didn’t care to spend the day cowering in the cave. It reminded her how safe she’d been in her tower while the dryads were forced to weather Mazin’s storms in the forest.

  “That’s the thing,” he said in a low voice. “They don’t. Last night was the first rain storm I can remember in a long time. Sandstorms, yes. A light shower—here or there. But last night was a storm, and it came crashing down when I prayed to the Goddess for help.”

  Her eyes flew open wide, and he gave a little snort.

  “She and I came to an understanding.” He looked away from her then and rubbed his eyes. Raziela continued to stare at his profile, wondering.

  “So are you planning to stay here with me?” She couldn’t make the question as casual as she’d like, and he searched her face a long moment before answering.

  “Well, like you said, you’ll need supplies to survive out here for long. Besides, my team will want an update. But I’ll come back with the things you need in a day or two.”

  She let out a little huff of laughter.

  “You’re just going to leave me here on my own?”

  “You won’t be by yourself. You’ll have your Goddess. It looks like the sun’s trying to make up for the storm.”

  Already there were beads of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. A healthy flush colored her cheeks as well. She dragged her braid over her shoulder, and her hands slipped absently over the end. She wondered how long it would take to break that habit. Under his close scrutiny, she forced her hands still.

  Turbulent thoughts gathered behind his eyes.

  “You promise you’ll come back?”

  “I’m conditioned to see to my own interests and ensuring your survival means I’ll wind up with more food in the long run.” He grinned, but her smile turned wooden. She picked at her fingernails.

  “Even in that garden I couldn’t grow something from nothing.”

  “I think,” Castien said, pointing with his chin, “You’ll find that you’ve already been given a head start.”

  Not far away from where they sat a low patch of loose green shoots stabbed up through the earth. Under ordinary circumstances, they wouldn’t be cause for much celebration, but judging from their vivid green color they were fresh, as if they’d appeared sometime in the night.

  After a little back and forth, Raziela accepted his provisions, but only after he swore he had more food on the mainland that he would bring to add to the stores. She didn’t tell him she wouldn’t eat it until he came back. He didn’t need to know that.

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll need a plan if I’m going to find a way back.” She tugged at a hangnail. The only thing keeping her heart from beating out of her chest was the knowledge that if Naiara had barred the portal to the Realm of the Gods from her, then she had probably closed it to Kephas and his men as well.

  “Do you want me to take you back now?”

  “I... Not yet.” She couldn’t bear to go back to Temple Hill and find that the Great Mother had truly barred the gateway to the Realm of the Gods against her. Besides, it would be dangerous to return to the mainland with the King and his men still looking for her. If the portal didn’t take her through, she’d be exposed, and she didn’t want to put anyone at risk trying to shelter her again.

  He seemed to understand what she didn’t say. He nodded and rose to brush his sandy hands against his pants.

  “I should get going then.”

  Before he left, he helped her roll some of the boulders near the mouth of the cave for more cover. They were large and heavy, but between them they managed. She worked at his side without saying a word.

  “I suppose this is goodbye, then,” she said as they stood back and dusted off their sandy hands.

  “There’s no need to sound so tragic.” He tried for a teasing tone. She arched a brow.

  “I just hope you don’t come back at the head of an army this time.”

  The laughter went out of his eyes.

  28.

  It bothered her to watch him leave, and it bothered her that she was bothered.

  Of all the people she had met since returning to Phalyra, why did he have to be the one offering to help her? Why couldn’t she have been trapped on the island with Thamar or even Barak? He at least had a sense of humor and an easy way about him that didn’t keep her on her guard—and he hadn’t destroyed the place that mattered to her most in the world.

  Even as she thought those cruel things about Castien, she stood on the beach and watched him until she could no longer see his boat on the waves. He’d drawn her a map in the sand of where the island was in relation to the coast. Not so far. If she climbed to a higher point on the island, she would see the shadow of land on the horizon. Still, she might as well have been back in her tower watching the world go on without her.

  Maybe that was why she had to stop herself from calling after him. She’d had enough of being alone.

  Sighing, Raziela wandered over to the little patch of sprouts trying to poke through the sand. Sand. Not a very nutritious home for what appeared to be some variety of carrot. If he needed a sign to believe in the Goddess it was as good a symbol as any.

  Pretending to ignore the boat shrinking into the distance, she picked up a piece of driftwood and began to scribble in the sand. At first she just drew aimless swirls, but when another wave washed a thick cluster of seaweed over her toes, she fashioned it into makeshift hair and drew a face beneath it in the sand. A pair of seashells made eyes, and a small stick formed a mouth. She sat back to admire her handiwork. That’s when inspiration struck.

  If the Goddess had barred the doors to the Garden, that didn’t mean she’d blocked all means of communication between their two realms.

  Even as she thought it, another wave pushed more seaweed up the shore. Excitement buzzed in her chest as she swooped
down to gather it. Yes! This was something to do. This could work!

  She walked along the water’s edge, gathering sticks and shells to form the tools she’d need. Mostly she’d be working with sand, but to form a stable structure she’d need to create the proper mixture of sand and water. There weren’t any bowls or buckets in the cave. The best she could do was transport the water in two large conch shells she found and deposited them in a natural depression in the rocky floor of the cave. It was tedious work, but tedious work was exactly what she needed to keep her mind off being stranded.

  Not even a speck of his boat could be seen across the waves.

  She bit her lip.

  Getting the right consistency of sand proved more difficult than she thought. At first she trickled water from the pool onto the spot where she was working, but that didn’t dampen it nearly enough. Growing frustrated, she poured sand into the puddle, but then it became nothing but a pit of liquified mud.

  “Come on, Raziela. Patience,” she said aloud. Her voice echoed in the cave, and the sound eased some of the frustration building inside her.

  Using the soupy mixture she’d created, she trickled it into the sand and silt she intended to use. Using shells to dig out the base of her statue, she settled down to work.

  The manual labor helped occupy her thoughts. She huffed and panted more than necessary, needing to hear a voice even if it was her own.

  The sun was relentless. While she’d been spared at the beginning of the day by the shade created by the cave, by midmorning the shadows had shifted and the sun beat directly down on her head. She wiped her brow on her sleeve, giving her an opportunity to glance toward the beach for a sign of an approaching boat. It had only been a few hours. He’d barely had time to reach the other side, much less return.

  She piled the sand into a five-foot mound. Then, using the shells and sticks she’d gathered, she carved the statue’s face. It was slow going. She was no artist like Gursel, and without the proper tools it was even more difficult. But as she smoothed and scraped the sand, she found a sense of peace.