Page 4 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope (The Children Of The Gods #100)
TAMIRA
T amira stood at the water's edge, letting the waves lap at her toes, trying to memorize every sensation—the warmth of the sand, the salt breeze on her skin, the sound of the other ladies' laughter behind her.
The sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon, and soon they would have to return to the mansion, then to the harem.
Moments like this would become memories to sustain her through the endless monotony of captivity.
Eluheed and Tony were competing again, and she and the other ladies were cheering them on. She knew that Eluheed was holding back on purpose and letting Tony win, but she clapped and cheered him anyway.
"My lady?"
She turned to find one of the guards standing at a respectful distance, holding a towel.
Tamira smiled at him. "I don't need a towel, but thank you for thinking to bring it."
"Forgive me, my lady." He glanced around nervously, checking the positions of the other guards, most of whom were focused on the ladies still playing in the water or on the men competing in the distance.
"I need to tell you something." He extended his hand with the towel despite what she had told him.
It dawned on her that the towel was an excuse, and she took it from him. "Thank you." She patted her eyes as if salt had gotten into them. "What is it?"
"I knew your son. I served under him. He looks so much like you that I know for sure you are his mother."
The world tilted.
Tamira's legs suddenly felt as though they could no longer support her, and she had to lock her knees to keep from swaying. "My son?"
"The resemblance is unmistakable. You have the same eyes, the same unusual deep shade of blue, and the same way of tilting your head when thinking." The guard's voice dropped even lower.
"What's his name?" she whispered.
"Darien, my lady."
Tamira was barely able to remain standing. Her knees were trembling, and she was holding on to the towel like a lifeline.
Navuh hadn't ordered that the name be changed.
"Darien," she breathed, the name feeling simultaneously foreign and familiar on her lips. Precious. "His name is still Darien?"
The guard nodded, but something passed over his eyes that gave her pause. Suddenly, the other things he had said registered. "I knew your son," he'd said, using the past tense.
She felt like throwing up. "Where is he?" The words came out strangled, desperate. "Where is my son?"
The guard shifted uncomfortably, glancing around again. Two of his fellow guards had moved closer, not quite within earshot but close enough to notice their continuing conversation.
He swallowed, then reached for her towel, as if he was collecting it. When she handed it to him, he whispered, "Officially, he died in World War II—killed in action in Japan—the nuclear bombs. But the rumors claim that the entire unit defected. They were never found and never confirmed dead."
Hope and confusion warred in her chest. "That's impossible. They couldn't have. The compulsion?—"
"Another of Lord Navuh's sons led them," the guard said in a barely audible voice and turned around with the towel. "Commander Kalugal. He had a reputation for being different." He walked away, leaving her stunned and angry.
Kalugal.
She knew that name, and it hit her like a slap. Kalugal was Navuh and Areana's younger son, taken from her as a little boy just like all the other boys born in the harem.
Did Areana know that he had defected? That he had taken Tamira's son with him?
There was no way Navuh hadn't told her, and if she thought that Kalugal was dead, she would have been crying her eyes out for decades. But there had been no crying, no mourning, which meant that she knew he had defected, which meant that Navuh knew that as well.
What else did Areana know that she hadn't told anyone?
But it didn't matter. The important thing was that Darien was alive and free.
Somewhere in the world, Darien was living a life she could never have given him. The joy of that possibility was overwhelming, but a profound sense of betrayal tainted it.
Areana should have told her.
If she knew that Kalugal had taken Darien, she should have told her.
"Tamira?" Eluheed walked up to her. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
She couldn't speak at first, couldn't find the words to explain the storm of emotions tearing through her.
Instead, she grabbed his hand and pulled him further down the beach, away from the others, away from the guards, even though she shouldn't be alone with him or show that he meant anything to her.
After a moment, she dropped his hand. "The guard who brought me the towel said that he knew my son. He served under him."
Eluheed's eyes widened. "How did he know that he was your son?"
"He said the resemblance was unmistakable. And..." She had to stop, take a breath, force the words out. "He said his name was still Darien. The name I gave him. Navuh never changed it."
"Tamira, that's wonderful?—"
"Supposedly, he's dead." The words came out flat, emotionless, because if she let herself feel them, she would shatter.
"Officially killed in World War II. But the guard said there are rumors that Darien's entire unit defected, led by another of Navuh's sons.
" She met Eluheed's eyes. "Areana's younger son, Kalugal. "
Understanding dawned on his face. "You think Areana knew?"
"How could she not know?" The betrayal burned in Tamara's chest like acid. "You think Navuh wouldn't have told her that their son had defected with his entire unit?"
"Maybe he told her that they were dead."
Tamira shook her head. "I would have seen Areana grieve. She didn't. She must have known. And if she knew about Kalugal's fate, she must have known about Darien's too. Navuh would have told her."
"Tamira—"
"I trusted her!" The words exploded out of her. "She's been like a sister to me. How could she keep this from me?"
"Maybe she wanted to protect you," he said. "Think about it. If she told you that your son had defected, that he was possibly alive and free, what would you have done?"
"I would have—" She stopped. What would she have done? Tried to escape? Demanded answers from Navuh?
"Maybe Areana thought it was kinder to let you believe he was just serving in Navuh's army like all the other adopted sons. You couldn't have done anything, anyway, so why cause you heartache?"
Tamira wanted to argue, to hold on to her anger, because it was easier than facing the complex tangle of hope, loss, and uncertainty. But Areana was wise and cautious, and she must have weighed her options and decided that it was better to say nothing.
"You are right." She let out a breath.
"Are you okay?" Eluheed dipped his head to look into her eyes.
She nodded. "We should go back. The guards trailing behind us are burning holes in my back."
He chuckled. "You feel it too?"
As they returned to the others, Areana regarded her with worried eyes.
"Is everything all right?" she asked, her blue eyes full of worry.
For a moment, Tamira couldn't speak. Had this goddess, who had been her anchor for millennia, been lying to her for years?
"I'm fine," Tamira managed, though her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.
Areana studied her face, and Tamira saw the moment she realized something had changed between them. The lady's expression shifted, becoming neutral, as the mask she wore when navigating dangerous waters slid into place.
"We should head back soon," Areana said. "The sun is setting, and Lord Navuh is expecting us for dinner."
"Of course." Tamira couldn't meet her eyes. "I'll gather my things."
"You have to talk to her," Eluheed murmured as soon as they had gotten a few feet away. "Not now, but soon. Otherwise, this will eat away at you."
He was right, of course. But how could she confront someone she'd trusted absolutely and discovered that she had lied to her?
On the drive back, Tamira sat between Sarah and Liliat, half-listening to their conversation about the restorative properties of seawater while her mind churned through everything she'd learned.
"You're very quiet," Sarah observed. "Did the sun tire you out?"
"A little," Tamira lied. "It's been a long day."
"It was the best day in forever," Liliat said with a satisfied sigh. "I feel more alive than I have in years."
Alive.
That was part of what Tamira felt as well. The possibility that her son lived, even if she could never see him, never know him, changed everything. He'd found freedom.
But Areana's betrayal tainted Tamira's joy.
How could she have remained silent about something so monumental?