Braid of Sand

by Alicia Gaile

  Time ceased to mean anything. Eventually she used all the water in the basin and had to take her conch shells down to gather more. Once she turned her attention back to the sea, however, it was impossible to forget about the boat she was still waiting for.

  She hoped he returned by sunset, but as the sun crept toward the line of the water, there was no Castien-shaped silhouette headed her way. Her stomach turned over at the thought of sleeping in the cave alone. She wished she had some of the zephyrs for company.

  By and by, she was satisfied with the bust she’d made. It was far from a work of art, but it had an easily identifiable body and face. She decorated it with seashells and carefully laid seaweed strips for her hair.

  “Great Mother, please hear me out,” she said, kneeling before her makeshift altar. “I failed to protect the Garden, and I couldn’t stop them from cutting my hair, but I beg you to find it within yourself to let me return. Vitales is in more danger than ever before.”

  There was no answer, but now that she was back in Phalyra, it was difficult to say what form an answer would take. In any case, there was no sudden wind to transport her back to the Garden, and when no breeze seemed forthcoming, she let her shoulders slump.

  “I will restore your faith in me, Great Mother,” she promised. “I will not let them get away with what they’ve done.”

  Restless now that her project was done, she picked up one of her pieces of driftwood to use as a makeshift sword. Training was more important now than ever.

  She chased exhaustion, but anxiety kept it just beyond her reach.

  “I suppose that’s one good thing about that coward chopping off my hair. I can’t imagine the trouble I’d have trying to wash all this sand out of my scalp otherwise.” Her hands moved restlessly, finger-combing her hair. It didn’t stop her chin from quivering when she reached the ragged ends at chest-level.

  “At least I don’t have to wear that collar anymore.” She took a deep breath, trying to convince herself that it was for the best. “And it’s still longer than Thamar or Armelle’s.”

  Her stomach rumbled and the ache in her belly grew. She hugged her arms around her middle and frowned at the distant line of the sky. If the people of her homeland were so bad off that they went days with only one meal, she could do the same.

  But as she started back, the weight of her head felt too light for her body, and she started to sway.

  Castien’s words came back to her, ‘My body’s used to less food. Yours isn’t.’

  She didn’t think he meant to insult her, but she felt judged anyway. It made her feel like the spoiled, pampered princess they all thought she was for even thinking about her stomach. Thinking about him drew her eyes back to the horizon. There was still nothing there, and she tore them away again, angry with herself.

  With nothing to do and no way to take her mind off her hunger, she soon caved and allowed herself to gnaw on one thin sliver of the jerky. It had a strong, fishy taste and the smell was even worse, so she felt less guilty about eating it. Had it been made with salted pork, now that would have been another story. Or heaven forbid a strip of beef. The thought set her mouth watering which helped soften the strip of jerky that was as appealing as chewing on a piece of bark.

  Smiling wryly to herself as she tormented her angry belly with her thoughts, Raziela lifted her unsatisfying strip of jerky toward the sand effigy in a salute to the Great Mother.

  “May your blessings shine as ever on the hungry and poor.”

  She slept alone that night.

  29.

  Leaving her felt cruel.

  He couldn’t stop glancing over his shoulder as he sailed away from the island. He’d convinced her to trade one island cut off from civilization for another. For the moment, she was safe enough—safer than if she’d come with him.

  Although he’d told her where the port was in relation to the island, he didn’t dare pull his boat up to the docks while the King’s Guard were still determined to take her in at all costs.

  To his right, something large and gray undulated just below the water but didn’t break the surface. Fear clamped down on his heart and sent a cramp twisting his bowels. Though he couldn’t quite make out what the creature was, he could see it was at least twice the length of his boat.

  Castien tore his eyes from death swimming along beside him and looked for the line of shifting current that told him he’d passed through the channel and it was safe to turn south along the coast.

  From the sea, the city didn’t look as desolate as it did from street level. The mansions proudly faced the beach, windows and arches gleaming in the early morning sun. A figure stood on his mother’s balcony. Castien didn’t trouble himself to wave.

  Around the headland was a small cove with leftover posts from an abandoned pier. He drew the craft alongside it and abandoned the wheel long enough to snag the pole with his long arms. He tied up the boat to the post and stepped from the boat to the pier.

  There was little danger anyone would come looking for his boat. The path down to the pier was overgrown, and his boat was hidden from the top of the hill by an outcropping of rock. Still, he scanned the hillside just in case.

  Castien sacrificed stealth to charge the hill as fast as he could. He needed to gather supplies and get back soon, but when he got to the top of the rise and saw the large Ardelean ranch sprawled out before him, he decided he had time to make a small detour.

  The Ardelean Cattle Ranch had never recovered from the hurricane over a decade ago. The pastures were brittle and worn, and all the cows were gone. By extension, the once proud house had fallen into disrepair. Tethered to a post by the front door were two horses dressed in the livery of the palace guards.

  Castien crouched behind a large rock to survey the layout of the ranch. Most of the windows were at the back of the house to take advantage of the coastal views, but there were one or two on the side he’d have to be careful to monitor as he worked his way toward the house.

  He slunk toward the back, ducking under the window and paused to listen for movement from within.

  The back door creaked. Castien flattened his back against the wall as someone emerged onto the back porch.

  A bone-weary sigh confirmed it was Lord Ardelean. Taking nothing for granted, Castien craned his neck to check that the man was alone.

  Hagan shuffled to the railing and stared out at the sea. He glanced over his shoulder toward the house. Something in his skittish manner tipped Castien off.

  “Don’t jump.”

  Hagan froze at the low command. Although Castien was visible to him where he stood, it took him a moment of wild searching before he spotted him. The color faded from his face. He held up his hand as if to ward off an attack.

  “Not even His Majesty would waste the coin it would cost to send me after you.”

  Hagan covered the lower half of his face and swept the hand up to brush his gray hair back from his forehead. He trembled and his eyes shone with tears. Castien didn’t let a flicker of compassion cross his face.

  “They’re watching you. If they realize we’re speaking, they’ll arrest you as a traitor.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Face the water so they won’t see your mouth moving.” To anyone that might be watching, Hagan’s abrupt spin toward the railing would have been instant cause for suspicion.

  “Is she safe?”

  Castien said nothing. Hagan pulled on the railing.

  “By the Goddess, have I not suffered enough for that night?”

  “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Castien had no trouble keeping the words flat and cold. “You let her shoulder the punishment for your crime.”

  “I thought I lost her twice now, Shadow Striker. I deserve to know. Is she still alive?”

  “Yes.”

  Hagan’s entire body sagged. He sniffled and wiped his face on his voluminous sleeves.

  “Take me to her. I need to speak to her. I need to explain why I�
��”

  “Face the water and keep your voice down!”

  Hagan gasped and jerked back to face the harbor. The weariness had transformed into tightly-wound strain. Looking at him, Castien realized the power Raziela possessed. Hope was a powerful thing, and her very existence created it where none existed before.

  “You must let me see her.” Hagan patted his body as if remembering it piece by piece. Then, he withdrew a white bottle from his breast pocket. His hands shook as he popped the cap to shake a familiar green vitamin into his palm. As he tossed it down the back of his throat, Castien’s burgeoning sympathy cooled. Hagan hadn’t learned his lesson. He was still SIAR Labs fool.

  “No.” Castien glared at the small white bottle. “You have to earn that right.”

  “What do I have to do?” Hagan’s voice trembled with hope.

  “What you should have done ten years ago. You let them make you their puppet. Now you have to cut the strings. You swallowed every line they fed you. Start spitting them out and spread the truth. That’s how you can help your daughter.”

  The door opened and Hagan whipped around. His sleeve knocked the bottle of vitamins off the railing, and the bright green pills pattered down the rocky hillside toward the sea. Stammering gibberish, Hagan fumbled to catch them, but he was too late. They were all gone.

  “Who are you talking to?” The guard strode toward him, and the old man cringed. His eyes dropped to the space where Castien had last been. But Castien had already moved. There was a lot of work left to be done.

  30.

  When dawn came, Castien still hadn’t returned.

  Raziela climbed to the top of the hill and squinted at the dark smudge of land in the distance. She felt as if she were still living time at the speed of the Realm of the Gods—month’s packed into hours, years crammed into a day.

  By noon, she’d given more thought to what might be happening on the mainland than in all the years she lived in the Sacred Grove. Still the world went on without her. No matter what realm she was in she always found herself on the outside looking in.

  She scanned the horizon. Wheeling seagulls in her peripheral vision had her turning her head in search of sails. A warm breeze blew the sea spray into her face as if to say, Look away. He’s not coming back.

  She tried to distract herself with more training. Sweat glistened on her skin from executing the moves over and over until her body took over the rhythm and freed her mind to start worrying again. Not until she had to wrinkle her nose at her own two-day old sweat did it occur to her that she didn’t have a change of clothes.

  She scanned the horizon. Nothing but rolling crests of foam. She jogged down to the water and let the cool waves lick the sand from her toes until she braced herself for the cold punch to the gut as she dove into an approaching wave and the sea swallowed her whole. A calm, heated pool it was not, but she relished the battle of resisting the pull of the tide in and out.

  She scanned the horizon.

  Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

  The steady beat of breaking waves was almost enough to make her tear out what was left of her hair. Waterlogged and exhausted, she wandered onto the beach and lay on the sand like seaweed leftover from high tide. The combination of saltwater and beating sun made her skin prickle. She didn’t move for cover.

  She scanned the horizon.

  Scooping handfuls of sand, she let them sift through her fingers over and over. Where had all her patience gone? What was one day compared to a hundred years? But on this side of the veil, she could feel time wearing her away like a seashell. With each second, her nerves grew more hollowed out and brittle.

  Where was he? Why didn’t he come back?

  When the boat appeared, she closed her eyes to banish the hallucination. Not until she saw the wind tousling his black curls did she let herself believe it was real. He didn’t come alone. Barak steered. Armelle faced the rear, no doubt making sure they weren’t being followed. Osee and Thamar stood on either side while Castien stood at the prow like a living figurehead.

  “You came back.” They were far enough away she was in no danger he heard her. Her relief was so strong that she rose onto her toes and waved.

  Immediately, she felt like a fool.

  Castien’s expression never changed, but his eyes locked with hers. Thamar, on the other hand, leaned over the side of the boat and waved back with a wide grin. Osee lifted his hand in a bemused half-salute too.

  Everyone but Barak hopped out when they drew close enough to the shore to drag the boat in. Raziela started to go down and help them, but suddenly she felt unsure. Watching them, even for that moment, she recognized that they were a well-coordinated team. Not a word was spoken among them, but everyone knew where to go and what they were expected to do. Osee and Armelle grabbed the rope to haul the boat in while Castien and Thamar guided it with care so as not to tear it open on the shore as it came in. Having never sailed a boat before coming out there the day before, Raziela could see her inexperience would have gotten in their way.

  Still, once the boat was emptied of its passengers she could see the back filled with bags. She rushed to help them unload.

  “Well look at you!” Barak stood and planted his foot on the side of the boat to smile down at her. “I have never seen anyone turn a kingdom on its ear like you have, Priestess.”

  Raziela didn’t know what to do with his observation. He was teasing, but was she expected to apologize, deny it, or take it as her due? Thamar slung her hand across the surface of the water and sent a wave arcing up to splash his face.

  “Ignore him,” she said as if in answer to Raziela’s unspoken question. “We do.”

  “Well, he’s not wrong,” Armelle pointed out, wading out to the boat. “Everyone’s talking about her and that storm last night.”

  “How could the kingdom survive if you never get any rain?”

  “It rains,” she explained with a roll of her eye Raziela knew was there even though she had her back to her reaching into the boat. “But it’s so full of dust and sand that it might as well be mud falling from the sky. And between the ground soaking it up and the sun coming along to evaporate it, water’s pretty scarce around here.”

  “After last night, I bet all the fountains have enough water to be flowing again. Castien told us what you’re planning, and I think if there’s more where that came from you won’t have to wait too long to have all the supporters you need.”

  “But what’s to stop the King from coming after us? It’s not much of a secret that we’re out here.”

  “Well, technically, this island exists outside the kingdom’s border. If we all took a vote and elected you as our sovereign, by sending his men here he’d be declaring war.”

  “So? There’s six of us. He has an entire army.”

  “True, but his soldiers are a superstitious bunch. No one’s going to want to move against you if you can prove that you’ll bring back our food supply. After last night, he’s having to decide whether he wants to waste the resources backing up his words to punish anyone who worships the Goddess. There are signs of her worship all over the city.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that his men are all afraid of us,” Barak put in, flexing his muscles as he lifted a duffel bag above his head.

  “Afraid of you? Why?”

  “We’re the guys his Majesty sends to do his dirty work. Castien’s so good at it they call him—”

  “Less talking, more carting.” Castien tossed another bundle to him, striking him in the belly. It bounced onto the sand just in time for the next wave to rush up to soak the bottom. Barak’s face fell.

  “Now my stuff’s all wet!”

  “Then maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings and work on your reflexes,” Castien shot back. Anger drew the lines of his face even tighter than usual. Raziela studied him, wondering what could have upset him.

  “You’re just irritable because Herodes found your secret hideout.”

 
; “He took all of my guns!” Castien protested. “And my favorite hunting knife.”

  Raziela’s eyes widened.

  “The King stole your weapons?” He nodded grimly.

  “Most of them anyway. I had enough stockpiled in that safehouse to arm an entire year group of students in his Academy.”

  “Well who hides all his best weapons together in one place?” Osee laughed. They bickered a little longer, though it remained lighthearted enough that Castien never took offense. However, Raziela noticed that he didn’t meet her eye as they emptied out the boat and dragged the supplies to the cave.

  “How’s your garden looking?” he asked once they reached the cave. When the others stopped talking in surprise, she pointed, and even she was startled to see how much the green shoots had grown since she’d last checked on them.

  Her surprise was nothing compared to theirs.

  As one, they dropped their things and hurried over to inspect the garden. Raziela opened her mouth to warn them not to trample the plants, but they stopped behind an imaginary line before she could get the words out.

  “You say this wasn’t here before you got here?” Armelle asked. She addressed Castien, but her eyes latched onto Raziela. He nodded.

  “We woke up the next morning and there it was, like a gift from Naiara.”

  “Do you have any idea what type of food it might be?”

  “No. We could try pulling one of them up, just to see—”

  The looks of horror on their faces stopped her from finishing the rest of that sentence. They wouldn’t chance losing even one of the plants even for an inspection. It made the guilt in her belly grow even worse. These warriors were so awed by what she had seen every day and took for granted. How could she not have seen things in Phalyra were this bad?

  “What’s that?” Osee looked up from the plants to see Raziela’s sculpture. Her cheeks instantly burned as the others took notice of it. Barak laughed.