Outside, voices rose in laughter. She shivered, wondering what they planned. She picked up the table leg, held it firmly. The flap opened and hands pushed a woman inside.
Stashie.
Dasis dropped the table leg. Stashie landed on her hands and knees, hair flipping over her face. Dasis ran to her and crouched beside her.
“Stashie,” she said.
Stashie glanced up. Her eyes were glazed over, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Dasis?” She sounded as if she couldn’t believe it. “Dasis?”
Her hand cupped Dasis’s face. Then Dasis pulled her close and they held each other.
“I thought they killed you,” Stashie whispered.
Dasis cradled her and rocked her back and forth as if she were a small child. “No,” she said. “They haven’t hurt me, at least not yet.”
Stashie drew in a hitching breath that sounded as if it held tears. “I thought they killed you,” she said again. “And it would have been my fault. I’m sorry, Dasis.”
Dasis pulled her back so that she could see Stashie’s face. “It’s my fault,” she said. “I was the one who insisted we come here.”
She wiped the blood from Stashie’s mouth and kissed her gently, avoiding the bruise. Stashie pulled away. “But Tarne—”
“He didn’t hurt me. He just tried to scare me,” Dasis said. “I don’t scare that easily.”
“You mustn’t let him touch you. If he touches you, I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“He didn’t touch me.” Dasis took Stashie’s hands. They were trembling. “He just wants to get at you.”
Stashie nodded, wearily. “I got away from him.”
“And he remembers.” Dasis squeezed Stashie’s hands. “Hold me.”
Stashie leaned into Dasis’s embrace. She felt warm and soothing. This was how they belonged, comforting each other, loving each other, not fighting as they had been.
“I’m sorry,” Dasis whispered. “I had no idea how bad things were for you.”
“I never told you.” Stashie’s voice was muffled against Dasis’s shoulder. “And I owed you so much—”
“It’s okay,” Dasis said. “It’s okay.”
They held each other for a while, Dasis stroking Stashie’s hair. Outside the tent, shadows paced. She didn’t want to think about what would happen when Tarne returned. Finally she sighed, cupped Stashie’s chin and kissed her forehead.
“We need to get out of here.”
Stashie’s eyes grew wide. “There are a dozen soldiers outside, not to mention the ones at the gate. And all that desert. Dasis, we’re trapped here.”
“I thought you escaped him once.”
Stashie bowed her head. “He thought I crawled off to die.”
“Stashie, do you really want to face him in front of the King? We’ll be able to do the reading, and then what? Will he kill us because of the things we know? Or because of your memories?”
“Tarne thinks he has a sense of fairness.”
“At least, the man you knew years ago did.” Dasis got up, grabbed the table leg and held it over the candle’s flame. “This was the only weapon I could find, but it should be good enough to get us out of here. Most people fear fire enough to stay away from it.”
“No, Dasis,” Stashie said. “We need to read. We need to face them.”
Dasis set the leg down. Its end was singed. Stashie never argued for the conservative action. Normally she would have wanted them to escape. “Why?” Dasis asked. “Why shouldn’t we fight for ourselves?”
“Because.” Stashie stood and took the wood out of Dasis’s hand. “I know what they can do when they’re crossed. I don’t want that to happen again. I couldn’t stand it, and I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. You’re all I have, Dasis.”
“Nothing will happen,” Dasis said, but she wasn’t sure if she believed it.
Stashie’s smile was indulgent. “I don’t even want to take that risk. If we survive this, we can go anywhere we want, do anything we want. That’s a reward I’m willing to receive at the risk of a little integrity.”
Dasis frowned. “Integrity? What are you talking about, Stash.”
Stashie took a deep breath. “Tarne asked you to favor a brother, didn’t he? Let’s do what he says. It’s the easiest and safest for us. No one will know, not even Tarne, because he could have chosen the correct brother. And then we go. We go free and we go safe and we never have to worry again.”
“And if he picked the wrong brother?”
Stashie shrugged. “It’s not our worry. What does it matter to us who rules this place? We’ll still have to suffer their laws no matter what.”
Dasis sat down slowly. She felt as if she had walked into a nightmare. “Stashie, you have never wanted to forsake our readers’ vows before.”
“Our lives have never been at stake before.” Stashie looked at her hands. “Who did he ask you to choose?”
Dasis stared at Stashie for a few minutes. Everything seemed to stop. Even the shadows outside the tent had frozen. Stashie’s face looked alien. Her eyes were someone else’s. Finally Dasis bowed her head. “Ele. He told me to pick Ele.”
“Then Ele”—Stashie’s voice was firm—”will be our next King.”
CHAPTER 25
Radekir’s mouth tasted of copper and mud. Her head throbbed. Dirt dug into her cheek and she was cold. Slowly, she pushed herself up, pausing as dizziness swept over her. Someone had hit her. Someone had hit her and made her lose her grasp on Stashie’s hand. Someone—
Soldiers. And they had taken Stashie.
Radekir sat up and took a deep breath. The dizziness had to go away. The pain had to go away. She had to find Stashie before they did something awful to her.
The back of her head was sticky with dried blood. They had hit her hard. If the blow had landed in a slightly different position, she might be dead now. She swallowed, realizing that the taste in her mouth was blood. Her jaw ached, and so did her arms. She flexed her muscles, moved her limbs, trying to see if anything was broken. Nothing appeared to be.
She squinted, then opened her eyes the rest of the way. The room was still dark. The door was ajar and no one had come in. Had they said something about dawn? Or had she dreamed it? Her head hurt too badly for her to think clearly.
They had said something about dawn. About reading at dawn. With Dasis.
Radekir moaned. Her desire might have cost Stashie her life. The sexual bond was one all readers were warned against breaking. Perhaps Stashie could read with Radekir. But they hadn’t tested it. They didn’t know.
The ache in Radekir’s head grew worse. She touched her skull gingerly, as if her fingertips could magnify the pain. Then she gripped the edge of the table and pulled herself up. Dawn couldn’t be too far away. She didn’t have time to get help. She had to go herself.
She got to her feet and swayed. The effort made the blackness grow thicker and for a moment, she thought she would pass out again. She willed herself to stay conscious. She had to move, had to find Stashie.
Radekir gripped the mud-brick walls. They were cool to her touch. She leaned her forehead on them and waited for the dizziness to pass. She couldn’t wait much longer. Finally she raised her head and used the wall to push herself along. And as she moved, a plan formed in her head.
She would go back to her room, wash her face and arms, put on her only other set of clothes, and wrap the turban around her head. That should hide the worst damage and make her presentable enough. And that was all that mattered.
The walk to her room took forever. The torches had almost burned out, and the darkness had grown. She couldn’t feel the cold. The air had a midday heat. And the dizziness—the dizziness followed her like a lovesick prison guard, unable to decide whether to envelope her or kill her.
The cushions in her room were still mussed from her evening with Stashie. She touched one, wishing she could go back. She didn’t know what she would change—she didn’t want to lose
the memory of holding Stashie. But even if Radekir had gone back with her, the guards still would have found Stashie, and still would have dragged her away.
She cleaned up, put on her other clothes, and carefully wrapped the turban around her wounded head. Then she grabbed the staff she hardly ever used. It would help her get to the palace. It would also serve as a weapon if it had to.
She was about to let herself out of her room when she stopped. She would never see this place again.
She knew that as well as she knew her own name. She hoped that was because she and Stashie escaped together. She needed to believe in a good future.
Then, leaning on the staff, she stepped outside into air that had grown so cold she thought her entire body would turn to ice.
CHAPTER 26
The Assembly Room was already full when Tarne arrived. Soldiers lined the corridor and the interior walls. The advisers sat in their posts along the floor, dozens of men, waiting to hear who their next ruler would be. The King’s sons sat on the dais, trying not to look nervous. Vasenu was succeeding. His expression was calm, his features relaxed. Ele also looked calm, but he kept twisting his hands together in his lap.
The only people missing were the King and the heart readers.
Tarne had given orders that the heart readers should be brought to the Assembly Road shortly after he arrived. He thought it best not to see Stashie until the reading. Even though she knew he was around, the shock of seeing him would help her decide to do what he wanted. His guards had already reported the conversations to him. She was arguing as he had hoped. Seeing him should clinch the fear and ensure that things went his way.
The room smelted of incense and gave off a damp chill, despite the number of people waiting. Tarne nodded to the soldiers as he passed them. Then he took his seat and stared at the brothers until one of them stared back.
Vasenu glanced at Tarne, made a small grimace of contempt, and looked away. Ele looked at his brother, then followed his gaze. Tarne smiled. Ele took a deep breath. Tarne pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and snapped his fingers. One of the guards came forward and took the note.
“Give this to the princeling, Ele,” Tarne whispered.
The soldier nodded once, then disappeared. A few moments later, he stepped onto the dais and handed Ele the note. Vasenu watched the exchange. Ele unfolded the note, glanced at it, then handed it back to the guard. The guard put it in his pocket and backed away from the dais.
Tarne could see the effect of the words in Ele’s eyes. It is arranged. Ele was wondering what had been arranged, hoping that Tarne had arranged his succession. When the readers announced who would be the next king, Ele would know whom he owed his debt to.
So would Vasenu. But Vasenu would have no power.
The back doors to the Assembly Room opened, and the readers came in. Dasis walked proudly, as if the night with Tarne had had no effect on her. Stashie mimicked Dasis’s walk, but Tarne could see the fright in the paleness of her skin, the shadows under her eyes. She scanned the room until she found him and then she nodded once. Not the fear-struck reaction he had expected, but one that probably had more safety in it.
They were led to the stairs in front of the dais and commanded to sit. Dasis sat at Vasenu’s feet, Stashie at Ele’s. Tarne smiled at the appropriateness of the tableau. He leaned back, feeling an ease despite the tension in the room. If they didn’t do as he asked, he would punish them. And if they did, then he would let them go. He was fair, when he wanted to be. And they wouldn’t be able to hurt him. They wouldn’t dare try.
Without fanfare, the doors behind the dais opened. Two servants supported the King and led him into the room. Gasps echoed around Tarne. The King looked twice as old as he had the night before. His skin was sallow, he seemed to have lost weight and his eyes were sunken in his face. It was no wonder he had ordered an earlier reading.
The servants eased the King onto his cushion. He reached out and took his sons’ hands. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice harsh and raspy.
Tarne could see Ele swallow hard. He glanced at Tarne and Tarne nodded. “We’re ready,” Ele said in unison with his brother.
The King raised his hands, and brought them together so that both brothers touched as equals for the last time.
“Then let the ceremony begin.”
CHAPTER 27
White streaks dotted the horizon behind the distant hills as Radekir approached the palace gates. Her feet hurt, but the dizziness had receded. She felt that if she stopped moving, however, she would collapse on the sand.
Up close, the palace looked no more impressive than the mud-brick buildings that the city was made up of. The giant wall that ran in a circle around the palace itself had small, sunbaked cracks. The turret beyond looked faded and crumbly. Only the tents, half hidden by the wall, added any color to the landscape at all.
She wiped the sand and sweat off her face. Her clothing was dirty and travel worn. As she walked, she had occasionally felt blood slipping down the back of her neck. Her turban was no longer white, but black with blood.
And she was so tired. Halfway there, she had forgotten for a moment why she was coming. She had only known Stashie for a few days. The woman had meant more of an escape than a lover.
Until the tenderness. Until the warmth. Until Radekir had seen the ancient fear in Stashie’s eyes.
The path to the gate had been worn by dozens of feet just the night before. Two guards stood at the gate so silently that at first she thought they were statues. When she reached them, she stopped—and swayed. She had to lean on her staff to keep her balance.
“The King has heart readers with him,” she said. Her voice sounded gasping and weak. “I need to see them.”
One guard smiled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And who are you? A ghost sent to give them advice?”
She started to shake her head, then thought the better of it. “No. I am partner to one of the readers. I have something she needs, something she wasn’t able to take when the soldiers brought her here.”
The other guard held out his hand. “I will take it to them.”
“No,” Radekir said. “It is part of me. Part of who I am. It is nothing that I can give.”
“There are two heart readers,” the first guard said, “which means, according to my understanding, that both partners are there. Go away. The palace is accepting no visitors today.”
Radekir sighed. Her head throbbed and, as the sun moved higher, the desert heat had started to build. “The reading isn’t going to happen. I need to see the readers. Please.”
The guard laughed. “I was there for the demonstration. I know that these women work well together. Try again.”
Radekir bowed her head. She would have to think of something else. “Look,” she said. “Send the King a message for me. Have your man deliver it only if the reading doesn’t work. Tell him that Stashie’s true partner is waiting at the gate.”
“Only if the reading doesn’t work.” The guard’s voice was sarcastic. He nodded to his partner. “I suppose we can do that.”
His partner disappeared inside the gate. He returned a moment later, a small smile on his face. “Your message will be delivered if it has to be,” he said.
The other guard crossed his arms in front of his chest. “If you plan to wait,” he said, “go somewhere out of our way. We don’t want to look at you all morning.”
Radekir wandered off to the side of the gate, toward a part of the wall that looked as if it would provide shade as the sun rose. She sat down. She needed rest and strength. She had to be ready when Stashie needed her.
CHAPTER 28
Dasis’s hands were shaking. The room was cold, people were looking at her, and Tarne kept smiling. She wanted to sit beside Stashie, to hold her, and comfort her, but they had to wait on opposite sides of the stairs. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait.
She and Stashie had had so little time in the tent. They had just started to
argue about the ethics of following Tarne’s plan when his men arrived. The march across the courtyard was long and the wait for the King even longer. Stashie had gripped Dasis’s hand, and Dasis had felt the fear in the sweat on Stashie’s normally dry palm.
And then the room. Dasis hadn’t been ready for its size nor for the number of dour-faced people who filled it. She had somehow thought that she and Stashie would stand alone before the King and his sons to do the reading. She hadn’t expected an audience.
Behind her, the King commanded that the ceremonies begin. Outside the room, young voices rose in an unfamiliar chant. Stashie glanced at Dasis. Stashie’s eyes were wide. Her lower lip trembled as if she were about to cry. The room was too full of uniforms and bad memories for her. The experience had to end quickly or Stashie would not make it through.
The chanting sounded magical. Dasis let its feeling run through her, touching her own heart. She had chosen this profession for a reason, just as she had chosen to love Stashie. She had chosen to be a heart reader because she had thought reading would help people. Reading took the veil off people’s true selves and allowed them to see who they really were. If they didn’t like the look, they had the opportunity to change.
Her mentor had told her that the search for a pure heart was the noblest goal of a heart reader. If a reader found a pure heart, they had found a natural leader, someone who deserved the respect and love of his followers. Dasis had never seen a true heart, although her mentor had described one. And now Dasis sat on the steps in the palace outside Leanda, about to read two brothers, one of whom should have a pure heart.
If neither did, she didn’t know what she would do.
The chanting stopped. Through the corner of her eye, she could see the King’s servants help him rise. “Let the readings begin,” he said and coughed. He put a hand over his mouth, but not before Dasis saw blood spray against his fingers. She shuddered, frightened by his illness and by his closeness to death.
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