Ahraan had healed him completely.
15
Woodenbeamsmadeupthe frame of the modest hut Saer chose as his base of operations, held together by sturdy pieces of woven bark.A handful of windows allowed early morning sunlight to stream across a bed stacked with thick piles of soft, leafy branches covered in supple animal hides.On the opposite end stood a makeshift table and chair with several flattened, yellow pieces of papyrus strewn onto its work surface.Scrawled ink marked them with no apparent pattern, and a quill rested next to the pages.A jutting torch affixed to the beam above the table, unlit during daylight hours.
Saer leaned over the table, counting names and plucking up the quill to scratch some out and scribble them elsewhere while comparing notes between one document to the next.The frustration increased as it became apparent that the list he worked on was all but useless—he’d have to start over.
“Great Hells.”Saer scowled and snagged another leaflet.He kept meticulous lists of the villagers whose support he’d garnered, strategizing ways he could collect the pledges of their souls.All had gone according to plan, his momentum strong and sure—until Ahraan showed up.
Saer had all but teed up this oasis for harvest.He’d had them!
A handful of days had passed since the last counsel meeting, and now, Ahraan made his presence well known amongst the villagers.They talked about him, his stance versus Saer’s, behind closed doors.Some of the counsel members had even talked about him replacing Saer as head of the meetings.They’d begun to approach him for important decisions before coming to Saer.Each tiny insurrection chipped at his leadership, his chances of success.
Hellsfire, it infuriated him.
Now, every time Saer saw Ahraan, he wanted to strangle him—especially when the bastard persistently called him “cousin,” a ploy no doubt.Just another head game.
Saer wanted the whole village for himself.He just needed time to regather and think, to convince them.
Voices rose from outside, easy to disregard at the start, but increasing in both volume and intensity.Saer gritted his teeth and willed the distraction away, determined to ignore it so he could complete his current task.He needed a fresh list to find his staunchest supporters, to campaign—
The commotion escalated.
Saer scribbled another quick note.
More voices joined the original ones, coming closer to his quarters rather than further away.
Growling, he reached for more ink.
One woman’s tone rose above the rest, and Saer froze.
No.
He’d waited for one or more of theDaemoenicato arrive, as always.Any, except one.
She wouldn’t.
A mixture of dread, terror, and anticipation had Saer throwing the quill down and crossing to thrust his door open.
Ten paces away, a gathering of curious villagers peered.Between them, two of the settlement’s soldiers flanked a pair of women wearing veils.
Ahraan also stood present.
The hooded man gestured at the warriors with lithe fingers, coercing them to step away from the female newcomers.As always, his cowled face remained mostly in shadow.
“Ahraan!”
Pride’s shout carried over the huddled crowd, hushing them and drawing everyone’s attention.Although the women’s faces were partially covered by veils, Saer would have known them anywhere.The shorter, rounder female’s earth-brown eyes were cast down, dappled freckles splashed across her olive-hued button nose.
Kalia.
The other, the one whose voice Saer recognized from his hut, met his gaze, and his world spun on its axis.Pearlescent skin and oceans-deep blue eyes were all he could see—but it was enough.
She spoke his name as a quiet, exhaled promise, “Saer.”
Neyu.
Glacial fear crawled up his spine as that same memory of Lucifer threatening to unmake her played double-time behind his mind’s eye.He swallowed, resolve cracking, but tore his eyes away from the duo.She shouldn’t be here!How dare she?How dare both of them?He’d never wavered in the orders he gave Kalia …
