by Claudia King
“That is why I came to you. I knew no one else would indulge such a request.”
“Indulging is wearing things like these,” he tossed her his handful of ringlets, making her jump slightly as a few of them almost slipped between her fingers. “A woman making such a request so late must have passion in her heart. Determined. Furious!” He gripped his fists and shook them into the sky, drawing a grin from Arunae.
“Fitting that you are the priest of the Son, Jarek,” she said. “You are as flighty as a child.”
He should have reprimanded her for speaking his true name. Those of lower status did not address the high priests by their names here in the temple, but there was no one else around to hear them.
“Ah, any other night I would hear this pilgrim out,” Jarek said. “But, alas, I have disrobed.” He gestured to his unadorned hair. Arunae laughed. It was fun playing with the exotic words of the Sun People. Their tongue, so crisp and complex, had words beyond words for things his people had never conceived of. Twisting them into playful new patterns was one of his favourite games.
“I shall tell her to return tomorrow,” the concubine said. “You made a wise choice, I think. It is not the way of things for women to walk the pilgrim's path. The girl seemed a little crazed.”
“One would have to be, to approach the temple at this time of night.” He frowned, glancing toward the drape-covered doorway. “Did you get the feeling she might cause trouble?”
“The guards have their spears to hand. There will be no trouble.”
Jarek nodded, turning to lean on the barrier again.
Arunae rattled his ringlets in her palm. “I will take these to your domicile. You need only ask, and I shall wait there too.”
Every night one of them asked. A few times he had agreed, but the pleasure was always fleeting, the bond thin and forgotten by morning. It seemed a waste, really, of love that could have been better spent elsewhere. He would sooner have spent the night making them laugh at his jokes.
He sighed. “No need, Arunae. I bed with my moon tonight.”
She gave him a curious look, hesitating before she departed. “You speak of the moon sometimes as if it were a spirit.”
“Hm?”
“Some of the pilgrims say the Moon People worship it as we do the Mother.”
Jarek shrugged. “How would I know?”
“You know many things about them. Things that even the pilgrims have never seen. The Dawn King favours you for that reason.”
He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “You have been listening where you should not.”
“A woman's ears listen better than a man's. They'd listen to all of your tales if only you'd tell them.”
“Mm.” He smiled, turning away again. If only she knew. How much more exotic would I seem to her then? Too exotic, I think. “There are some villagers who live within a breath of the Moon People's territory. Not everywhere is so peaceful as the heartlands.”
“Whichever village you came from, I hope you will speak of it some day. A place where warriors fight with wolves and all men wear skin as dark as yours.” The wistful lilt in her voice was plain to hear. The temple was a place of prosperity, but stories were the only way women like Arunae could glimpse the world beyond. It was unlikely she would ever leave the heartlands.
“Perhaps one day, if the Dawn King wills it,” Jarek said. “Shoo our visitor away now. I fancy I can hear her pacing a hole in the floorstones.”
Arunae dipped her forehead in a bow before retreating from the balcony. Jarek listened to the wood creak beneath her feet, wondering at how the craftsmen of this land managed to keep such elaborate structures aloft. Despite the many years he had spent here he still awoke sometimes to the sounds of the temple groaning in the wind, imagining the roof collapsing upon him at any moment like the skin of a flimsy tent. Such lavish dwellings lacked the sturdiness of a cave. There were no caves in this land, and so the Sun People had made their own.
Melancholy left its bittersweet touch upon him, recalling days long past. He tried not to dwell on them much. That was a past life, best forgotten and let go. He had spent so much time away from his pack even then. What was a little more distance between them?
Yet every moon the part of him that refused to forget those days woke once again. The wolf stirred in his belly, longing for the wild and the hunt. But of all the things he had left behind, even the wolf was little more than a nagging perplexion.
There was one star, however, one glinting gem, that had always made him wonder about what could have been.
Adel. Just remembering her name brought a smile to his lips. Sharp and fiery, like hot obsidian. No other woman had ever scolded him the way she had, nor been so beautifully disarmed when he managed to make her laugh. No day with her had ever disappointed him. What he would not give to hear that she was happy, that she had grown up to become the great seer she had always wanted to be.
Jarek began to hum a sombre melody to himself. Adel was surely mated to Alpha... what had been his name now? He had no place in his memory for the alphas of the Moon People any more. A young one, probably easily twisted around Adel's finger. She would like that. Ruling a pack through a complacent male. Not so different from some of the Dawn King's own concubines.
Was he the greatest fool ever born, perhaps, for having let such a woman become his first love? It would be a fine joke for the spirits to have played upon him, that was for sure, and Jarek always appreciated a fine joke. This one seemed sadly lacking in mirth, however. He rubbed his fingertips together, gaze distant and thoughts roaming.
No woman could compare to Adel. It was a harsh presumption, one he reprimanded himself for every time he made it. Each person held their own worthiness, and who was he to be its judge? Yet Adel, far distant though she was, lingered like a burr caught in the hem of his cloak. She was no burden. No source of heartache. Just an echo. Something that followed in his footsteps, leaning in to rest a cold hand upon his shoulder when he least expected it.
Jarek shivered suddenly as that familiar ice crept across his skin.
“Oh my seer,” he said softly, his brow holding a familiar pain. “Pretty like a bird who soars through the sky. Spirit like a bird who watches over us all.” He raised his eyes to the heavens, gazing into the moon. “You were the moon mother herself. Can you still see me now?” He turned, almost expecting to find her there with a hand upon his shoulder.
But there was nothing. As always, there was nothing.
The Moon People saga will conclude in The Dawn King, coming soon.
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Claudia King is a writer based in the United Kingdom, she studied Creative Arts at university and continues to maintain a passionate interest in storytelling across many forms of media. She owns a banana plant.
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