I have my hand resting behind my head as I look up into the darkness as I lie in the tent. I hear the soft opening of the tent door. It’s Anara. She has her own tent, she can even sleep with Carnaxa if she wants. But from the moans coming fromthattent, I can see why she wouldn’t choose to be there.
“Are you asleep?” she whispers across the darkness.
“Am I ever asleep?” I lean up, scratching the scruff on my face. I need to shave soon. Carnaxa’s moans fill the quiet between us and I rub the space between my brows. Every night I hear her in his embrace. I am forced to recognize it’s not my name she’s calling,but his. “Want to talk about what Ereon said?” I’ve asked her often if she wants to talk about it, but she declines every time.
“The same as always. Want to play the game?” She smiles at me, a match already in her hands.
Since she told me of the power in her veins, she’s let me witness what she can do since magic is apparently back in the lands. She curses because she can’t generate it like she did in San’doma, but she can manipulate it. She hasn’t said anything specific, but I assume it’s the lack of range of motion due to the chains.
“You like games, Anara?” I ask, and a sly smile crosses her lips.
She walks across the room, sitting in front of me cross-legged, between my own legs. I should have definitely gotten better situated before she got comfortable, but oh well. She strikes the match, catching the flame not on the match but in her palm. She tosses it back and forth between her two hands. Her face lit up in the flickering flame.
“You ready?” she asks.
I rub the palms of my hands, anticipating what she’s going to do. The first time she did this, I thought she had lost her mind. But then she throws the flame at me and I catch it in my hands.
The small flame dances back and forth as I hold it in my palms. A small itch happens around my wrist, but I ignore it and throw the flame back to Anara. It grows a bit in her hands, and she smiles at me. She’s missed the flame. As I focus on Anara and the flame, a warmth spreads through me and I’m able to stop focusing on the sounds coming from Carnaxa and Ereon and instead, focus on this spark between us. It’s a nice distraction.
We do this until we are both on the brink of wakefulness and I watch as she closes her palm, the fire extinguishing as if it never existed. She stands up and stretches before making her way toward the chair. Every night since we’ve started this, she falls asleep in my chair.
“Just come sleep in the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair.” I move the blankets from around me.
“I’m fine here. That’s your bed.” She shrugs. “I’ve slept in worse.”
That makes me pause, she has slept in worse and she shouldn’t have. I move off the bed so quickly she can’t argue and grab her. My arm sweeps her knees out from under her, my other hand cradles her back. She throws her arm around my shoulder in panic before I drop her on the bed. She chuckles but doesn’t move or argue.
“Fine. We’ll share it.” I walk back to my side and lie back down, pulling the covers over both of us. It’s a small bed, but it’s big enough for the two of us. I lay on my side, facing her. She lies the opposite direction, but it’s her temperature that catches my attention. The warmth that comes from her is unlike Naxa — she was much cooler. I can’t help but reach out to touch Anara’s shoulder. “Your skin, it’s so hot.”
She shivers as if my fingers tickle her. She turns around and runs her index finger across my shoulder. “So is yours. Go to sleep, Ambassador. Tomorrow is a new day.” The chains of her shackles clink as she rolls back over and I listen to her slow breaths as sleep finally takes me.
thirty
Carnaxa
Siphonie, who is still not speaking to me since our last argument, is sitting across from me, and I’m beginning to feel bad. I know she’s just trying to help, but I’m tired of the constant talks with her. Anara sits beside me, her hands constantly fidgeting with the chains around her wrists.
“It’s probably time that you put your shawl on, Princess Carnaxa,” Anara says from beside me. Her dark hair is effortlessly pulled back into a tousled bun, a few strands hangalong her jawline. “The temperatures are already dropping.” She reaches below her, fumbling for the trunk she stashed under us.
“Anara” — Siphonie straightens up in her seat — “you and Ambassador Thylas seem to be becoming close friends.”
Anara smiles pleasantly at Siphonie. “Yes, he understands me in a manner that few do.” Anara continues to rummage through the trunk at her feet, the sound of shuffling items fills the air. Siphonie simplyhumphsin acknowledgement.
It’s obvious Siphonie is trying to uncover what is happening. She’s irritated at me and at Thylas. It’s obvious the time Thylas and Anara spend together has increased, and I can’t deny that watching her sneak out of his tent in the mornings doesn’t pique my curiosity.
“I thought that you were Prince Ereon’sorur... or did palace gossip not place you correctly?” Siphonie says abruptly, never taking her eyes off Anara.
Anara doesn’t react but looks up from the trunk and meets her stare. “I was called that, yes. Not a title I was thrilled to have but it offered some protection. Since Princess Carnaxa has arrived, I no longer hold the role.”
Siphonie knows that if Ereon loves Anara, I’ll accept her into his life. Antalis doesn’t mind letting love grow, and I know a piece of his soul is still mine. I wouldn’t ask him to change himself or the love he has for someone else. This whole argument is pointless, but I realize that it’s Siphonie’s way of trying to get me to react. To be jealous. I look away from them and take a deep breath.
“Princess Carnaxa” — Anara holds the shawl in her hands — “the item you found before we left the palace is still in the pocket.” She pushes against the fur, a bulge visible.
“Be the shark.”
The words flit across my mind. A memory. Thylas said them to me.
I let Anara drape the warm, white shawl across my shoulders, patting softly at the dagger hidden there. The weather has already changed, and while we no longer fear that the sun will melt the flesh from our bones, now we worry we will freeze entirely. We huddle inside the carriage, our breath visible as it escapes our lips.
