Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
As I do, I think about Tia. I play over our interaction repeatedly, devouring every morsel I can think of. Her clothes were crude. Furs, I think, from creatures above. She dresses in their skins, and apparently does not dress very warmly. Does the cold not affect her like it does our people? Or was she taken before she had a chance to properly dress? She was excited over the prospect of a loom, so she must know how to make fabric. But if that is the case, why not make better clothes for herself?
I ponder the small things about her. The strange riot of her mane, the tiny holes in her earlobes, the fact that she only has two arms and no tail. It helps pass the time, and when I’ve caught two large bottom-skimmers, I head back to the center of the village and hand them over to the cooks.
“Hungry?” one asks, offering me a bowl of soup.
Shaking my head, I gesture at my stomach. “Gut sickness.”
The cook—Mhen’dar the Scraper—gives me a sympathetic look and then flings one of the fish atop his cutting table, pulling out his prized metal knife and getting to work scaling the fish. He does not ask for more details, and it makes me uncomfortable. Did he believe my lie? Or should I tell him more to make it seem legitimate?
“My father has a potion,” I blurt out. “For my stomach.”
Mhen’dar looks up from his task—the one he takes his name from—and stops his descaling. “What?”
“I am going to dine with my father, and then I will retire early.”
“Very well.”
“So I can make up for the time I lost today. With the fishing. I am not on patrol until the waters recede again.”
Now he and his son are both staring at me. Perhaps I am offering too much information. I groan, clutching at my stomach dramatically, and then head off to my father’s dwelling once more. Instead of greeting my father, however, I turn and head straight for the kitchens, where the chief’s attendant prepares his meals so he can concentrate on ruling. I make a tray of food for Tia, and Cas’zor says nothing over the fact that I take roasted slices of juicy meat, the most tasty mushrooms, and another piece of fruit. He must know why I am here, stealing from my father’s pantry.
How many others know, I wonder. Tia is less safe by the moment.
I return to the storage building, stepping inside quickly as the guard waits outside. Tia is inside, curled up on the sleeping mat, the tube of moss set near her sleep pallet. She sits up when I enter, her eyes wide.
“Ykam bakk,” she says.
“I told you I would return,” I say, guessing at her words. Her tone is surprised, and for some reason, that bothers me. “I do not lie to you, Tia the Stranger.” I make my tone stiff even though I want nothing more than to fall to my knees in front of her and place my head in her lap. I want to hold her close until she resonates. I want to caress her all over and drink in her scent.
A small smile curves her mouth and she gestures that I should sit down.
I do, even though I am conflicted. I should take her back to her people. I should tell the others of my father’s plotting. I should stay here at her side all night, so resonance can happen.
If it will happen.
How have things gotten so complicated in such a short time?
“I cannot stay long,” I tell her, even as I fold my legs and move to sit across from her. “But I wanted to make sure you had food and were comfortable. And I want to learn more of your words.”
She smiles at me and gestures at something in the corner of the room, talking her nonsense singsong words. I obediently look over, and as I turn back toward her, I catch a quick glimpse of her hand moving. The small fruit-cutting knife I put on the tray is gone, no doubt snatched up by my stranger. I suspected she might try something like that, and I am not upset. If she needs a weapon to feel safer, it is understandable. I would do the same in her situation.
So I say nothing and instead offer her a piece of fruit, hoping for the chance to suck on her fingertips again.
She picks through the meat and nibbles on one slice, her gaze locked on me. “R’jaal?”
My spine stiffens. I hate that he is the first thing she asks for. “I do not know where your suitor is. My concern has been solely for your safety.”
Tia reaches out to touch my knee, her fingers light. “Pls, Rem’eb? Frmee?”
“I have brought you food. I wanted to see you settled tonight,” I say. “I wish I could stay, but I cannot. I have so many questions to ask you. Instead, I am being commanded to keep my regular duties so nothing seems amiss. If the rebels hear that one of the above strangers resides here…I fear what will happen.”