Innocent

Rumi

Chirston shimmered through the ribbons of heat, the overhead sun turning the bricks of the buildings into glittering gold.

Dust clouded the air, a haze stretching between the structures like a low-clinging fog.

The outlying buildings had low, brick walls and the shadows of animals moved through the haze.

Each pen held a collection of creatures: camels and solariths, tall black and tan birds with long, leaf-like plumes.

Inside one paddock was a trio of dark reptiles, their snouts bound with metal bands, a padlock gleaming malevolently just below their eyes.

Rumi’s unease grew as their beasts walked further into the city, but it was overshadowed by a singular thought.

By all things gifted by Behiba, great mother of the earth and sky, never—never—had Rumi experienced such yearning.

Such desire.

Even now, as she strode forward, putting Cal a great distance behind her, the feel of his lips against hers lingered like a phantom touch.

The gentle way he had held her face—like she was some delicate treasure—had her thoughts firing in all directions.

Had her wanting more.

Which, in turn, festered into a gnawing guilt.

She was betrothed.

Promised.

It was one thing to share dances and moonlit swims while on the brink of death, but this…this felt almost real.

This desire was absolute.

Real and raw and now demanding that she stop walking away and turn back to receive more of that kiss.

But Rumi did not bow to the whims of desire.

No, for her people she would do whatever she must, and that meant getting home.

She would control these rampant urges.

As Rumi looked around the streets, she noted Jameson smiling at her.

His grin grew and he drew his eyes slowly to Callum walking behind her before returning to her face.

With a knowing look, he brushed his knuckles over his cheeks, right where hers were still flushed and burning from that damned kiss.

Rumi sputtered indignantly and whirled her face in the opposite direction.

It was not as if this was her first.

It was not. She had shared many secret kisses in her youth when she had thought she had known the meaning of love. Apparently those were mere child’s play.

The city reminded her of Corsin, except above ground.

And hot.

The houses were all crunched together, leaning on each other to keep from wilting in the heat.

More people than she had seen in her entire time in Yetoben milled through the streets.

They cast her the occasional look, but mostly they minded their business and continued on their way.

Rumi followed Jameson to the stables where he paid a large fellow with hair the color of fire to care for their giant steeds.

It made sense to have such a massive man in charge of them.

She imagined how a normal-sized person would struggle if the sandstriders decided to be difficult.

In the shade of the large building, she felt Callum’s presence behind her, like a protective shadow looming overhead, goading her to turn around.

“Keep your face covered,”

Cal said as he stepped around and stooped over her, lifting the wrap from her shoulders to drape it over her head.

Ever so gently, he took the extra cloth from the front and tucked it over her pointed ears to hide her face from the nose down.

“Keep covered.

It doesn’t fully hide your markings, but it’s enough to avoid most people taking a second glance.”

Jameson sidled up.

“Right, Cal, you’ve got change for a room?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.

I’ll speak to a local about papers and chits for you—”

“We shouldn’t need it.

I will speak to the magistrate.

He’s an acquaintance and he should remember me.

I’ll explain what happened and he’ll understand and clear both my name and Rumi’s.

Sullivan’s influence doesn’t reach this far east, so it’ll just be my word against his.

Plus, I have my journal with all my notes to back my claims. Once that’s all sorted out, we shouldn’t need forgeries. When I’m no longer in danger of losing my career, I can act as a character witness for Rumi. And when her name is cleared, she can go anywhere she wants.”

He peered down at her with a smile that threatened to make her chest glow.

He believed her to be innocent?

Jameson looked dubious and shook his head.

“You both should keep your heads down.

Go to an inn and stay put while I scout things out.

We don’t know where Sullivan is or if his cronies arrived before us.”

Cal stood up straight and turned to Jameson, head held high.

“I will face this as I have faced everything.

The magistrate will see this is all a misunderstanding.

He’s a good man, we served a term together in Arcona Bay.

He’ll see reason.

You’ll see.

It’ll all go well.”

Both turned toward her and she felt the urge to curl away from them.

This was a whole new game.

A whole new world.

She did not know about magistrates or chits and immigration papers.

Callum strode toward her and knelt on one knee.

He took her hand in his, his thumb stroking the bruises on her knuckles. She watched as he tested his words before speaking them, mulling them over and rolling them on his tongue, weighing the next question.

“I will ask you this one more time, Miss Rumi, with Jameson here as my witness.

I will believe you, whatever you say, because in our time together I’ve known you to share only the truth.

Miss Rumi, are you in any way responsible for the oritium poisoning, contraband exports, and subsequent deaths, as accused?”

His eyes bored into her and she felt it straight down to her navel.

A twisting and knotting that gripped her lungs and squeezed her heart.

“No, Colonel, I am not.

I did not even know of such things until I was on your ship and you brought the accusations forward.”

He stared at her, his expression unguarded, for several breaths, each beat of her heart counting out the ways he measured her words.

Then he nodded once, satisfied.

His shoulders rolled back, dutiful and resolute.

“That’s it, then.”

He dusted his pants and turned his face back to Jameson.

“She’s innocent, and I’m going to ensure that the charges against her are dropped.

It’s my duty.”

Jameson gave a nod, wisps of brown hair falling forward into his eyes.

“I agree.”

Rumi appraised Jameson for a moment.

While he had been party to the horrors Sullivan had put her through, not only had he done what he could to make her time there a little more bearable, he genuinely seemed to be trying to help now.

She made the decision then that she would try to treat him with a little more grace.

Jameson brushed the hair from his face, his expression serious.

“Be careful, Cal. Please.”

“Always.”

They shared a look—one that surprised Rumi by evoking a mild envy.

It spoke of years spent together and trust built through countless trials.

The kind of bond that the best of friends share.

A pang of longing stung as she thought of Sezsha and the kindred looks they had shared.

She took a deep breath.

All would be well. She would make it back.

Jameson tipped his head to Cal and then offered a small bow to Rumi.

She smiled at him, a small smile, but one without the coldness she had confronted him with since he joined them.

He winked once her way and then strolled away, whistling a tune that sounded vaguely familiar.

“All right, Miss Rumi, let’s go find somewhere to sleep.”

Cal reached for her and his muscular hand splayed across her back as he guided her forward, further into the city.

***

One thing Rumi had come to learn about this place was that everything was covered in dust or sand.

All the time.

Literally everything had a fine coating of grit, and this tavern was no exception.

Even with the bartender’s constant sweeping and swiping the surfaces with cleaning cloths, it hardly made any impact, because each time the door opened, a breeze swirled in a new bout of dust to be cleaned.

Rumi was certain she would never feel clean again and her mouth would forevermore be dry and full of sand.

“Stay here while I speak to the keeper and get us some rooms.”

Cal led her to a table in the back of the tavern, ordered a sour-smelling drink—“rust beer,”

he called it—from the server, and then left to speak to the man behind the counter.

Rumi sipped tentatively at the frothing mug and winced.

The sharp taste burned her throat and spiraled into her empty belly, where it gurgled.

Even the strange cactus juice would be preferable to this drink, but she did not see many other options and the pit of unease in her gut refused to let her speak to anyone to request something else.

Cal returned a few moments later, his expression carefully devoid of emotion.

“Unfortunately, they only have one room left,”

he said blandly, sitting on the bench beside her.

“Surely that is not a problem? We have been sharing a space for much of our time together, no?”

Rumi replied.

A wan smile graced his lips and he took a long swallow before answering.

The way his throat bobbed drew her attention and held it for long enough that her cheeks grew warm.

“It is a little bit more…intimate, I suppose.

As I mentioned before, in survival situations, things become more acceptable because, well…you’re doing what you need to survive.”

This time, it was Cal who turned a shade of red akin to the sand outside as he spoke.

“Sharing a room in society is…”

He scratched at the back of his neck and kept his eyes on the table.

“Not the same…”

“Well, Colonel—”

“Cal.”

“Cal,”

she corrected herself.

“We can just imagine our survival situation is continuing.

We must lie low and there is only one room in which to do so.

Think nothing of it.”

The idea of sharing a room with him had that now familiar warm tingle starting in her belly and her mouth grew even drier than before.

She took several gulps of the liquid in her cup to ease the feeling, but only succeeded in searing her throat with the strong drink.

“Well, it’s the third room on the left at the top of the stairs.

Here’s the key,”

he said, sliding the object across the table to her.

“I’m going to speak to the magistrate, but I’ll be back shortly.

Go easy on the rust.”

Whatever that meant.

Each thud of his boots, as he walked away, pounded a foreboding stake into her chest—it was like watching him leave meant allowing parts of herself to be stolen away with him, and here she was, held firmly in place by the spears through her heart.

She clutched her chest and guilt wove a hook through her as she watched him go.

What would her betrothed think? Her thoughts grew somber.

Not long now, and she would be back with him.

Zinhar.

Desire warred with guilt, buffeting her from every side, and when the door slammed behind Cal with a solid thud, it rattled her to the bone.