Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I suck in a deep breath, my cheeks puffing.
Ranan dives, looking for all the world like a sleek fish darting beneath the waves. I can marvel at this for but a brief moment before I’m yanked under with him, the water blasting my face. I hold my breath, my eyes squeezed shut in the darkness, and try not to panic. My lungs burn after a few moments and I hold his hand tighter, dread slipping into my veins despite my best efforts. I’m going to die. I’m going to drown holding onto his hand because he doesn’t realize that humans can’t hold their breath as long as he can. I’m going to—
His hand tugs me upward, hard, and then my head breaks the surface. I gasp, drawing in deep lungfuls of breath as I push streaming wet hair out of my face.
The grotto.
Oh. It’s lovely.
I stare around me in wonder. Sunlight streams into the water from a hole in the rock high above my head. The grotto is a cave all right, and it seems the only entrance—other than the hole far above—is to swim in through the pool I currently float in, feebly clutching at Ranan’s hand. There’s a lip that leads to the cave floor, and the cave floor itself is littered with stolen goods. I see statues of all shapes and sizes, bolts of cloth, chests of jewelry, ornate pottery jugs, and more of the strange bags that Ranan is so fond of.
It’s an absolute clutter of treasure, and everywhere I look, there’s something appealing to the eye. “By all the gods, Ranan. This is yours?”
He pulls me forward in the water, to the shallowest part of the pool, and my feet touch the floor underneath. “Aye,” he says. “Sometimes I have more, but I trade things and bring some back to my flotilla.”
I sit on the edge of the pool, my mouth hanging open as I spot a statue of the goddess Tadekha covered in gold necklaces, a staff with a large gemstone held in her hands. Even at Lady Dywan’s house, there were never such riches. “What do you do with all of this?”
He shrugs, hauling himself up to sit next to me. “Don’t know. Sometimes I just take it even if it doesn’t have a use. I figure someone will want it at some point, and better in my hands than theirs.” His gaze watches me closely. “Do you like it?”
I laugh with delight. Everywhere I look, there’s a glitter of gold. I think I even see a jewel-encrusted chamber pot perched atop what looks like a Yshremi woven rug. Like it? I feel as if I’ve stepped into a wonderland. “It’s absurd,” I tell him, and when he frowns, I add, “Absurd in the best of ways. There is so much here, Ranan! How long have you been stealing for?”
He shrugs. “I have little else to do with my time. It seems a good use of my strength and Akara’s size.”
That it is. I get to my feet, ignoring the drip of wet clothing sticking to my body, and marvel at the cave. The ceiling of it is tall, a bit like a bottle with a long neck. The chamber I stand in is the large, comfortable belly of the bottle, and the sunlit hole far above the neck. This is the grandest place I have ever seen, and the most cluttered. When I step over a chest, I see the “bed” that Ranan has prepared for me, a large stack of textiles and embroidered pillows all piled together. I want to fling myself down upon it and roll around, but I’m dripping seawater everywhere. “This is marvelous, Ranan. I swear I won’t breathe a word of it. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Why is it secret?” he asks, puzzled. “These are my things.”
“You are richer than a king,” I point out. “Anyone that knew of this would try to rob you.”
He snorts. “They can try.”
I continue to walk in the cave, pushing past piles of tapestries to examine a chair covered with gold-inlay. “This is all incredible.”
“You like it here, then?” There is an uncertain note in his voice, as if he wasn’t sure I’d approve.
I turn and give him a surprised look. “Do you jest? This is the most spectacular sight I have ever beheld.”
“Take any of it,” he says with a shrug. His body language is casual, but I sense he’s pleased. “You are my wife, so you are free to help yourself to any and all of it.”
This is the utter opposite of what I’ve been thinking. Instead of giving me away, he’s giving me his treasures. I’ve never felt more unbecoming, either. My hair is wet with seawater, my dress made from the ugly cloth shapeless and damp. I’m well aware of my menses and the sunburn on my face. Surely I cannot be his dream of a wife.