“I’m sorry?” Emmeric stared at her in confusion.
She chuckled softly, the warm smile not leaving her face. “Good, you didn’t expect my forgiveness. But it is notmyforgiveness you need to earn. You murdered one of my tribesmen, and you will need to beg his son for forgiveness before you can earn your freedom.”
He furrowed his brow. “I will do whatever it takes to get me home.”
Imo smirked coyly. “Oh, my dear Emmeric, but you’re not going home. At least, not yet.”
Chapter 5
Iyana
Iyana meditated until the sun was down fully. It helped to distract from the dryness of her mouth and throat. Once it was finally dark and the stars were shining brightly, she attempted to reach out.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively.
We are here, Iyana.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. She had not been expecting a response.
We apologize for our absence. You must be thirsty. Follow us.
“How do I know where to go?”
Look to the stars.
Reluctantly, she glanced upwards (twenty-six years of being told not to was a hard habit to break) and saw a star brighter than any she had recognized. When Grandmother was busy with a patient, sometimes Iyana would take little peeks towards the constellations and mentally catalog them as swiftly as possible. She stood gingerly, wincing at her aching muscles—the dehydration and hours of sitting in one position had caught up to her. She stretched slowly, raising her arms to the sky and arching her back before setting out, keeping the bright star before her as a beacon. After following it for what seemed to be an hour, she appeared to still be in the middle of nowhere.
“Any idea how long it will take me to get wherever it is I’m going?”
If you ran, it would be faster.
“If I ran, it would be faster,” she muttered under her breath. “You go an entire fucking day without water and see how quickly you run.”
We do not require water.
“Of course you don’t.” Iyana rolled her eyes. Despite every part of her wanting to just give up and curl into a ball on the cool desert sand, she sighed and picked her pace up to a jog. A full run wouldn’t be manageable—her muscles were screaming enough as it was. Instead, she focused on her breathing to block the pain. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat. In, out, repeat. She fell into a sort of trance—in, out, repeat—keeping the star in her line of sight, though everything else blurred around her. Breathing and running preoccupied her thoughts, so much so she almost ran straight into a pit. The only thing that saved her was the voice.
Stop, Iyana.
She skidded to a halt right on the edge of an enormous crater, her toes overhanging the edge. A few pebbles broke loose tumbling down the slope. Iyana took an involuntary step backwards to avoid a fall as she followed the tracks of the pebbles. Down, down, to the center of the crater, where—instead of the large pieces of rock or fire she had expected—there was a man. He was sitting on the burnt, glassy earth—the black obsidian reflecting the scant moonlight—with his legs crossed, staring up at her. Iyana could not make heads nor tails of what she was seeing. The man appeared to have a faint glow about him. Nothing about this scenario was making sense. Iyana wasn’t sure what she expected to find when she was following the disembodied voice of what she assumed was a star, but it definitely wasn’t a man. She was so engrossed in her own confusion that it wasn’t until he stood that she realized he was naked. Her eyes opened wide before she let out an undignified squeak and spun away. But not fast enough to miss his physique…he was all corded muscle, glorious in appearance, and his—
“Why do you turn from me, Iyana?” His voice was deep, silky, and had a bit of what Iyana initially described as ‘shimmer’ undertones. Ethereal. It was definitely ethereal.
She twisted casually back to him, keeping her vision mostly covered, telling herself she only needed to see so she didn’t fall into the deep crater. Iyana had seen plenty of naked men before, usually in a medical capacity while helping her grandmother, and she’d had some flings. Nothing lasting, and nothing for more than one night. Not for any particular reason. The men she had grown up with in the village had never really appealed to her, but they were there for when anitch needed to be scratched. They tried to make it into more than that, of course, Idris being the most persistent. As the granddaughter of the village healer, Iyana was as close to a ‘princess’ as you could get within a small community. But none of them had ever made her heart flutter and, honestly, none of the sex was really that great. The men were usually selfish, and she sought one out only when her own hand was becoming boring. So far, nobody was good enough for a second round. She hadn’t put a lot of thought into finding a man, getting married, or having children, although most of her childhood friends were all on the family path. Some women she grew up with were already on their third or fourth child. Iyana had always assumed once she found the right person, everything would fall neatly into place. The available men didn’t meet her expectations. She wanted children, sure, but definitely not right at this moment—there was lots of work and training to do. Luckily, Grandmother never pushed the issue, allowing Iyana to live her own life. Imo had been on her own since her husband had died, long before Iyana was born, although many widowers had tried to win her hand. Imo said the same thing to all of them, “Thanks, but no thanks. Call for me if you need medical attention.”
Realization swept over her—she was blatantly staring at this man, her hand barely covering her eyes while she reminisced about her love life. Or lack thereof. She cleared her throat lightly, “Well, you, um… you don’t have any clothes on.”
He regarded her with his head tilted slightly to the side. His eyes crinkled slightly at the edges with the beginning of a smile. He glanced down at himself, then up at Iyana again. She felt, more than saw, his gaze slowly traverse up her entire body, heat following in its wake. A little shudder coursed through her spine. Men had never beheld her in such a blatantly lecherous manner. Smirking, his face lit up further, and she swore she saw hunger in his eyes. He ran his hands over his body, clothing magically appearing where he touched.
Now her hand dropped to her side and her jaw fell open. This waspuremagic. Grandmother, as a healer, had small bits of residual magic gifted to her from the gods, but it only helped to activate a medical potion or to discover an ailment. It was nowhere close to the magic this man possessed.
“Is this acceptable?” he asked, still standing in the hole looking upwards.
“Uh, yeah, that’s much better. Thanks,” said Iyana as she finally studied the man further, now that he was fully clothed. He was tall and muscular, with angular facialfeatures. He had sharp cheekbones with piercing eyes, which, from this distance, appeared to be gold. Short blond hair curled at the edges to fall over his forehead. There was still a glow about him. “Did the stars send you to help me against the Athusans?” Iyana asked.
“They sent me to you, yes.” He continued to stand at the bottom of the giant hole in the ground, unmoving.
“What created this crater? And why are you down there?”
