by A. M. Deese
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t hurt to try. In any case, I have to figure out something. I can’t explain my father’s disappearance for much longer. There has to be something I’ve missed. I found an entire history on the forging of the Tri-Alliance. I bet there are answers there.”
Markhim grinned. “That’s the Jura I love, confident that all of life’s questions can be found answered in a book.”
The heat rushed into her face and she looked down at her soiled slippers. He said love!
“…about your mother?”
“Hmm?” She snapped her attention back up to his face and tried to focus on what he said.
“I asked if you questioned the Shadow Dancer about your mother? You know, about the—”
“No, I didn’t. There wasn’t much time before he, well, disappeared. But I have a feeling I won’t be getting any information for free. I should get going. I’m exhausted and I still have some reading to do, and tomorrow I have to try and be a spy, and I don’t even know the first thing about getting people to talk.”
“Let me know how I can help. I’m here for you, whatever you need.” Markhim reached down and pushed a stray tendril of her hair back from her face. His hand lingered on her cheek and Jura leaned into it ever so slightly.
“Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me to be able to talk to someone about all of this. I just feel so alone.”
“You’re not. I’m with you.” He leaned forward and Jura closed her eyes. This was it, he was about to kiss her. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep her hands from shaking.
“Flames, but you stink.”
The moment gone she smacked his chest and turned sharply on her heel. “That’s it. I’m going to take a bath, right now.”
“Thank the Everflame.”
She narrowed her eyes and tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I don’t have to take this. I’m going to my chambers.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?” His eyes danced and his grin was doing something to her insides.
“If you’re lucky,” she replied saucily.
His grin deepened. “If I’m lucky, you’ll have bathed by then.”
“Go ride a dragon.” Jura stomped away and his laughter followed her down the stone hall.
Chapter Ten
TYLAK
Tylak had been nine years old when it happened. Sykk had been a toddler, an appendage on his mother’s hip. They had been walking home from the fair or the market and the sun was dipping behind the dunes, casting the city in an eerie orange glow. Tylak skipped, still full of energy from such an exciting day. His mother worked constantly, long hours that drained the day away so that when she made her way to the hovel they called home she did little more than feed her children before collapsing on her frond mat. This particular day had been a rare treat, and the nine-year-old boy could not remember one better. He loved his mother fiercely and understood the importance of working hard. That’s why he helped her at home every day, watching his baby brother and setting snares for hares and lizards that would make supper. He was young but he was the man of the house, and she’d said so when she gave him the stone. It was blue. Like the color of the ocean, his mother had whispered dreamily. He had never seen the ocean but he imagined it was beautiful, like his mother.
He held that stone in a leather pouch that hung at his waist. He liked to touch the stone from time to time to marvel at its smoothness. He’d been thinking of his stone and the adventure of seeing the ocean. Skipping ahead, he didn’t notice the two men come at his mother from behind. He heard her cry out and Sykk’s quiet whimpers. He turned around and found his mother on the ground while two men pawed at her.
He’d been so angry. How dare those men hurt his mother. She was beautiful and full of light, and these men were evil. Tylak remembered his hands shaking. He dropped the stone back into its place in his pouch. The stone was hot to the touch. He was hot and the anger burned inside of him as he growled and lunged at the two men.
He landed squarely on the back of one and bit the man’s ear hard, soliciting a scream. The second man grabbed him by the throat and ripped him off his partner’s back. Tylak gasped for air as the man held him up over the square’s fire pit.
Flames shot out, running down the arm of his captor and leaping onto his face. He howled, his expression panicked as he dropped Tylak to the ground. The flames engulfed the man. He flailed wildly, his arms desperately reaching out for salvation. The other man took off running, but Tylak couldn’t watch him go, his eyes mesmerized by the burning corpse.
His mother had been fine. She never spoke of the incident again. Don’t think about it, she’d told him, rubbing his back in calming circular motions. It never happened.
And in a way, it really hadn’t. Not to him anyway.
