Aidon shot her a teasing smirk. ‘Something tells me it’s unusual for you to relinquish control. Should I be worried?’
A quiet laugh rasped from her. ‘Perhaps I’m changing my ways.’
Something in the way she said it was tinged with heaviness, but he knew better than to pry. Too soon. Perhaps later, she would share more of herself with him. So instead he passed the time by asking her about her home, about the legendary Athatis wolves who protected the Dyminara, about their traditions.
In Trahir, families no longer cremated their dead, but erected tombs gilded in gold to honor their memory as they went to rest with the gods – at least the most prosperous merchants did. Other families buried their dead in wooden boxes. Aya had nearly spat her drink out at that. In Tala, it seemed, burning was a way to release a soul back to the earth; back to the gods. Those that didn’t were rumored to become trapped in the veil itself.
Aidon knew Tala’s devotion to the gods was unparalleled, especially among the Visya. But toseeit, to truly witness it in the way Aya spoke of their sacred duty to serve the gods and protect the humans of their realm …
He knew enough Visya in Trahir to know they would balk at it. That they would see it as subservience. But it didn’t sound that way when Aya spoke of her devotion to her gods and people. In fact, it reminded him of himself, in a way. She was a committed warrior whose loyalty was something he would admire in his own soldiers. Did it matter that she felt that loyalty was decreed by the gods? Was his own not decreed by his family? By his birthright and position?
At the end of the day, did they not honor the same Divine … just differently?
‘Your commitment to your duty is admirable,’ he said carefully, letting the earnestness he felt show in his face. They’d worked their way slowly through their meal, and he laid down his fork as he focused on her fully. ‘But do you ever want something just for yourself?’
Perhaps the question was far too personal for whatever this was growing between them. He wasn’t even sure who he was asking it for. Maybe them both.
Aya’s face was pensive, her finger trailing the rim of her wine glass as she studied him. ‘It chafes, doesn’t it?’ she remarked, her voice far gentler than he’d ever heard it.
‘What does?’
‘The responsibility.’ She leaned back in her seat, her eyes fixed steadily on him as she continued to toy with the glass.
He lifted a shoulder. ‘It’s all I’ve ever known.’
She nodded. ‘Then you know perhaps better than I do that it does no good to wish for something that can’t be.’ There was a heaviness in her voice that had him leaning toward her, a frown on his face, but Aya’s lips tightened before she plastered on a tight smile, as if she’d just caught herself. ‘Sorry. That’s more than enough heaviness for one evening.’
‘So I shouldn’t ask how your research with the Saj is going?’
She blew out a breath, something like a laugh lost in the sound. ‘It’s slow,’ she confessed. ‘Natali speaks in endless riddles, and they certainly take their time with things.’
‘Will they be able to help?’ He kept his tone light – intrigued. Again, that contemplative look settled on her face, her full lips pursing as she considered him. Considered how much to tell him, Aidon realized.
Because their flirtations aside … they both had roles to play. Duties to abide by.
But whatever reassurance she was seeking, she must have found it in his face, because Aya sat back in her chair and said, ‘I don’t know. How much does anyone truly know about the Decachiré?’
Aidon chuckled. ‘Your best bet would be tracking down the Vaguer, but we all know how that would end.’ Aya’s blank look was enough to send him sputtering, ‘You can’t be serious. You’ve never heard of the Vaguer?’
His parents had told him and Josie enough horrific bedtime tales to dissuade even Aidon from tracking down the small group of devout worshippers not of the gods, but of Evie, the First Saint. There were myriad rumors surrounding them. They were said to be nearly impossible to find – that one had to travel through the Agaré rainforest, the Blood-Red Mountains, and the Preuve desert. And even if the voyage didn’t kill the seeker … the Vaguer would. They were rumored to be keepers of a relic of Evie’s. He told Aya as much, watching her frown become more critical with every word.
‘What’s the relic?’
Aidon lifted a shoulder. ‘Some say it’s her sword – the same one her parents used in the horrific ritual. Others a shard of her bone. No one’s ever found out.’
‘No one,’ Aya deadpanned. ‘Sounds like a scary bedtime story.’
‘Speak for yourself. I grew up on stories about the Vaguer, and just talking about them makes me uneasy.’ Indeed, a shiver raced down his spine. ‘They’re said to have no bounds in their thirst for knowledge. They were excommunicated from the Maraciana over a century ago for their willingness to study dark-affinity work. They claimed it was essential to understanding Evie better, to worshipping her and the gods more fully. Obviously it was …controversial, and not just to the Saj of the Maraciana, but to the kingdom. We may not worship the Divine in the same way, but we still adhere to their decrees. Dark-affinity work has no place in this realm, and while they honor the First Saint, their practices border on heresy. And yet, even still, over the years, the most desperate have attempted to seek the Vaguer out.’
‘For what?’ Aya asked, an amused smile tugging at her mouth.
‘Knowledge. Power. Miracles. Who knows? It’s a fool’s errand.’
She took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes sparking with something that looked like mischief. ‘Well, thank the gods I’m not a fool, then.’
His eyes flicked over her, watching the way her tongue ran across the bottom of her lip. ‘You certainly are not,’ he murmured. He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as a flush crept over her cheeks, those blue eyes brightening in the lantern light. It was senseless, really, how she sent his pulse racing. How that look in her eyes heated his blood so quickly, as if he were no better than a young whelp who had just discovered the charms of a woman.
Still, he knew Aya’s purpose here, and suspected he was no more than a source of information. He’d told himself the same thing about her when he’d invited her out this morning. She was a mark – an assignment from his king.
