Emmeric
“Ow.” Emmeric pulled another cactus spine out of his thumb with his teeth, spitting it away from him and sucking on the area to ease the sting. Shaking out his hand, he glanced over at Altair, who was using the wood Emmeric had found to build the pyre.Stupid, attractive star-man, he thought. His thumb still hurt, along with the other dozen small wounds caused by various cacti.Stupid desert.It wasn’t the most mature thought, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
They had been working for at least an hour in silence—the sun continuing its descent, coloring the sky in shades of violet and rose, and cooling the air—until Emmeric couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you fill me in on a few more details, at least?”
Altair never paused his work. “Not without Iyana here. I’d rather not repeat myself.”
Emmeric huffed out an annoyed breath and took a break to drink some water. He extended the waterskin to Altair, but he declined the offer. Right. Star. Ancient, magical immortal beings probably didn’t need water like the lowly humans. Picking his shirt up, he wiped the sweat from his face and squinted back towards the village. “Shouldn’t someone have come by already?”
Altair shrugged, saying nothing, continuing to pile the dry wood. Emmeric was concerned about Iyana’s mental state—which surprised him. Not because Iyana was his enemy, but because she loathed him and he made it a point not to care about people who didn’t want to give him the time of day. Personally, he didn’t harbor any negative feelings towards Istorians, and least of all against Imothians. He regretted his actions the previous day and now wished he had helped Talon evacuatepeople. Why didn’t he say anything about his plans? Was he concerned Emmeric wouldn’t help?Probably, Emmeric thought. He usually followed orders with little question, no matter how painful those actions were. But Talon… he was trying to make a difference at great personal cost. Emmeric vowed he would attempt to bring a positive change to the world, or at least to stop bringing death solely because an emperor ordered it done.
Really, he wanted to move out of Athusia to find a new life. A quieter life. He’d been dreaming of this for years, but he didn’t know where he’d go, what he would do, how he’d earn a living. His only skill was wielding a sword, and he’d hate to jump from one tyrant to another—doing the same shit in a different place. Plus, what if Talon didn’t want to come with him? His parents were still alive, after all, and they would never leave Athusia. They had lived there their entire lives, raised both of them there. Talon most likely would choose to go along with Emmeric, but he didn’t want to take the chance of being rejected. Nor did he want to force his best friend to choose between him and his parents, so he never broached the topic. He sighed and then cursed again as another cactus spine found its way into his finger.
Hours later it was fully dark, the only light coming from the thin thumbnail that was the moon and the twinkling stars. They had completed the pyre and were sitting on the cool sand, waiting. Emmeric looked up at the sky, knowing he would never view the stars in the same way. The one sitting near him also had a slight glow around him, enough to show Emmeric his features, but not enough to see anything else by. Candles lit up windows in the village and it was only then that he noticed a small silhouette moving towards them. Altair stood smoothly. Emmeric stood as well, but admittedly more clumsily. Soreness from the raid, being bound, and building in the desert heat were catching up to him.
“Iyana,” Altair said softly. “What do you need?” Staring unblinkingly at the enormous pile of wood in front of her, where her grandmother’s body would soon burn, she froze for several seconds. “My star?” It was dark enough Emmeric couldn’t see if she was crying, but her voice shook when she spoke.
“Thank you for building this,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I told the village. They’re all heartbroken, of course, but everyone wants to be here to send her to the Everlands. It’s a tradition in Imothia to send loved ones along with a trinket, so they’re gathering those andwill be along shortly.”
Emmeric knew she was hurting. It was a pain he was unfortunately familiar with, having lost his parents at fifteen. Even now, thirteen years later, he felt a sharp pang when his thoughts wandered to them—as they did now. His father had been a merchant, leaving Athusia to collect trade goods from smaller townships and selling them at market for a higher price. His mother, Daphne, would take care of Father’s accounts. She had a fantastic mind for numbers and was one of the few women from the poor outer rings of the city to work their way up. Mostly self-taught, she had a chance encounter with a young merchant while perusing the market. She impressed him with her haggling, and he asked her to dinner. They wed within the year. Daphne’s penchant for mathematics helped the couple to earn a fair amount of wealth. They moved to the middle ring of the city—not affluent or noble by any means—mere months before Emmeric was born. They became fast friends with the couple next door, also expecting a baby, and the rest was history. The accident… he didn’t like to think about the accident.
Emmeric rubbed his chest to disperse the perceived pain. Iyana’s silhouette was gesturing behind her towards the huts. “We need to move her body to the pyre so we can place her trinkets around her before it’s lit. I don’t think I can—” She halted, her breath hiccupping. Altair was by her side immediately, folding her into his arms, making soft shushing noises. His eerie golden eyes looked at Emmeric expectantly.
Getting the hint, Emmeric said, “I can take care of it, Iyana.” She released a shaky sob that may have been athank you. He dragged his tired legs back towards Imo’s hut, wishing this was the first time he’d wrapped a dead body in a shroud.
Iyana
Crying faces were illuminated as Iyana’s last remaining family member burned. She herself was dry-eyed, but only because she was numb. It was as though Imo’s death had hollowed her out—there was nothing human left within her.Throughout the night, almost everyone from the village offered their condolences. They were curious how it had happened since Imo was alive and well following the attack—her normal self. Iyana wasn’t sure what to tell them. She was injured and hadn’t realized it, stress from the attack, or old age…none of it seemed right. Many questioned privately if the captured Athusan was responsible, but she quashed those rumors immediately, telling them all he was not in the hut when she died. It made her feel strange, defending her enemy, but she saw even in the short time Emmeric had known Imo, he’d respected her.
As the night wore on, the fire grew dimmer, and the villagers all headed back to their homes. They would take the day off from their normal routine to mourn Imo, mourn their own dead, and recover as best they could. By sunrise, Iyana still stood by the pyre, unmoving, unwilling to think about what would come next. Emmeric and Altair had been standing outside the ring of light during the ceremony. They had all thought it best for them to keep out of sight, but this way they could still pay their respects. She heard them closing in on her, then a featherlight touch on her back. The gesture made her realize how close to crying she actually was.
“Iyana…” Altair’s deep voice rumbled softly behind her. “I realize this isn’t the best time, but there are still things we need to discuss.”
She took a deep breath, held it until her lungs screamed at her, then released it slowly out of her mouth. Nodding, she said, “We can talk in my hut. I don’t think I can bear to be in hers at the moment.”
“I understand,” said Altair. “You two go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Iyana walked towards her home on feet she barely felt. She sensed, more than saw, Emmeric looking at her. “What?” she snapped, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes.
He gestured towards her feet. “How are you not wearing shoes?”
“I don’t wear shoes,” she said, turning to face him as they reached her front door. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He wasn’t as tall as Altair, but he was close. The incredulous expression on his face almost caused her lips to twitch into a smile. Almost. She shoved all of her emotions into a small box inside her chest and locked it. Any sort of feeling, whether positive or negative, was bound to send her into a spiral she wasn’t sure she’d be able to recover from.
“You don’t…” Emmeric spluttered. “But the cactuses!”
“One, it’s cacti,” Iyana said. “And two, no, I don’t wear shoes. I just avoid everything that can cause me harm.”
Emmeric’s mouth opened and closed several times, like he couldn’t figure out how to respond to this apparently preposterous notion. But she stood by her stance. Shoes were foot prisons.
He pointed to a small, round cactus nearby. “What is that?”
“It’s a mouse thistle. They’re all over the desert, and the juice inside is actually delicious,” Iyana replied.
Emmeric crossed his arms over his broad chest. She tried not to notice how the movement accentuated his biceps.Can you really blame me, she thought,after being stuck with the same men vying for my attention for the last ten years?
“Well,” he said. “They’re prickly, and they’re small, so it’s hard for me to see them before they poke me.”
“Are youpoutingright now?” Iyana asked. And that definitely wasn’t laughter or happiness bubbling inside of her. She pushed it down again.
