“Yes.”
“Thank you.” The guard ruffles his graying hair, which makes him look young, almost childish. “Saves me a lot of paperwork.”
“Well, thank the gods. The paperwork.” He doesn’t grasp in the slightest what Basu has done, does he? Doesn’t realize what five silvers would mean for a poor family. How much harder life is without fire; how vulnerable my people are to those that lurk in the shadows.
The guard clears his throat and places two fingers near his Adam’s apple. “Lady.”
I’m this close to not paying my respects, not placing my fingers against my throat, but in the end I do. Theyaremoving a body for me, after all. That sounds grim. A part of me kind of likes it.
Riya and I are not nine meters into the air and away from Basu’s hut before she salts me with so many questions I could be preserved for a century. They string between my father, Nightcaster, and Basu, which only serves to remind me of how the latter has changed sides.
“Riya, give me a minute to think. A whole lot has happened in the span of three hours. We are going to tell my father immediately; I have no clue who this Nightcaster is; and yes, maybe I’ll question Basu further. You good?” Guilt about lying snakes up my belly. I don’t think I need to question Basu. He gave me what I needed when he dropped Nightcaster’s name. But to explain would blow my cover. I cannot let Riya know that I sneak out at night, let alone what I accomplish.
“All right,” she agrees.
Exactly sixty seconds pass before Riya slowly slides into “So, what was he like?” Her voice is curiosity mixed with disbelief, a tone children use when they see my dad fire off his magic at the Festival of Color.
“Who?”
“Who else? Raja Jatin.”
“Oh.” I resettle on Hubris and look toward Mount Gandhak. He must surely be there by now or very close. “What you would expect: cold, arrogant, and quite tall…”
“Annnd?”Riya drawls.
“And what?”
“And what?Are you kidding me? And, did you like him? Did he seem to be a good person, a good match, a good anything? Give me something of substance here.”
“I shouldn’t fret over boys, an older, wiser friend recently—”
“Oh, come on.”
I sigh and let the wind talk for me for a minute. Finally, I twist to face her. “The truth is I don’t know, Riya. Both he and his guard had no idea it was me they were talking to, but considering they thought I was some East Villager, they didn’t treat me badly. The guard was easier to read and seemed friendlier. He…well, he carried me after I burned out.”
“He picked you up? Like carried you in his arms?”
“Yeah.”
“Blood, you must have hated that.”
“It was horrible and not so bad at the same time.”
Riya shoots me a weird look, one that signals she wants to crack open that answer and get to the bottom of my emotions. But I can’t reason out how being held was both embarrassing and nice in its own regard. I yank myself from the memory. I shouldn’t be thinking of Jatin’s guard or the warmth of his arms wrapped around me. So I focus on Jatin. He had seemed so…I search for the word. Controlled? Calm? Then the right word slaps me in the face and I offer it to Riya in sacrifice.
“Raja Jatin seemed unfeeling.”
“Unfeeling?” She pauses, mulling over the word like I did. “Huh, maybe that is a good thing.”
I laugh bitterly. “I should be happy to marry a cold and unfeeling man?”
“He didn’t know who you were, right? It’s good he wasn’t too friendly. You are Gods-blessed beautiful and he didn’t do anything, didn’tcare.” She stresses the last word, and I finally latch on to her logic.
“You interpret this as loyalty to the engagement or his faithfulness to…the real me?”
“Well…yeah.”
I guide Hubris closer, lean in, and raise an eyebrow. “That’s a whole lot of assumption for someone who doesn’t even likemen.”
