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Aliya

B Y THE TIME THE SUN had risen high in the sky, I’d gone a little overboard with the tomatoes, gorging on them until my belly was full and my slip was covered in tomato juice stains.

I had gone from plant to plant, invoking the incantation so that each one was covered in large tomatoes. Then, for good measure, I went to all the other plants, and the garden was now so full of thriving vegetables that I could hardly walk between them.

I knew there was no way I’d be able to eat them all before rot set in, and that perhaps my use of magic was a bit wasteful, but I didn’t care. I was too excited that I could wield to stop at rational thoughts today.

But as I rose to my feet and tried to walk inside for a basket to collect my bounty, my limbs quaked and my head spun. I felt as if I’d gone without food for days despite having eaten so many tomatoes that my slim belly swelled.

This was obviously the consequence of expending too much magic too quickly. That’s what my intuition told me, at least. I couldn’t just go around wielding carelessly. There had to be a purpose to my magic.

That was a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget.

After taking a moment to compose myself, I slowly made my way inside and took a basket off the counter. For now, I would focus on tomatoes. They’d be the first target for bugs and birds. Tomorrow, I’d preserve them into jars of sauces and chunks. I didn’t have the strength tonight.

It took longer than I’d expected to pluck and collect them all, but finally I put the overflowing bucket on the counter and stumbled to the den, where Willow was already curled up in the corner of my favorite couch.

All I wanted to do was collapse onto the cushions and relax, but a chill was creeping into the castle that would soon have me quaking. I needed heat, first and foremost. I went to the large, beautiful carved fireplace and flicked the switch that operated the firing mechanism.

The hearth burst into glorious orange flames, and I lingered there for a moment, soaking up the heat before shuffling to the couch and plopping down beside Willow.

That electricity still worked in Varinya had been my salvation.

It ran on its own, collected by fields of solar panels as well as windmills.

I wouldn’t have survived these long, lonely months without heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer, let alone a working refrigerator and stove.

Starting a fire by hand was a skill I was never taught as a princess.

But then again, I’d also picked up many skills uncommon for a princess.

Chopping wood, gardening, cooking, cleaning—though, I really didn’t do a whole lot of that. The extent of my cleaning was washing dishes and clothes, and even there I tended to let things pile up, or wear the same dirty dress for days, maybe even weeks.

Why wouldn’t I? I had no one to impress. Although Willow would avoid me if I wore something for too long.

As she prowled closer and curled up on my lap, I realized that must not currently be the case, even if my slip was soaked in tomato juice.

I petted her head, the purr that rumbled from her body comforting me.

“We’re going to be okay,” I said. “I can wield. Isn’t that amazing? Hopefully, we won’t be alone for much longer.”

She didn’t acknowledge me, just continued to purr as I scratched behind her ear.

Bang, bang, bang!

The unapologetic slamming made me jump and scream. Willow bolted off my lap with a disgruntled hiss.

With every hair on the back of my neck standing on end, I slowly turned around and looked across the expansive ballroom floor beyond the den to the large entrance doors.

I had to be hallucinating due to fatigue. There was no way someone had knocked on that door, right? I hadn’t seen or heard a single person in over a year. It was probably just the wind.

Or maybe... I’d finally lost it.

Bang, bang, bang!

I startled again, this time rushing towards the sound.

“Hello?” a desperate male voice called through the thick wood. “If there’s anyone in there, please help us.”

Us? There was more than one person out there? How? Who?

“Please!” the voice pleaded again, spurring me into action.

I scurried through the ballroom, reaching for the door handle and then hesitating. If I opened this door and there was no one there, I would know I’d finally gone mad. That would be the beginning of the end.

But if there was...

Before I could spiral into a vortex of hope and horror, I turned the bolt and pulled open the door—and my eyes widened in shock.

Standing on the doorstep were two men bathed in sunlight. One was unconscious and being supported by an arm over the shoulders of the other. Both were injured and bleeding in several places. And both were completely naked.

I just stood there, staring like a moron, for several seconds too long.

The conscious man tilted his head at me and blinked in confusion. “C-can you please help us?” he hedged, talking to me like I was crazy.

And maybe I was. Maybe this was some solitude-induced hallucination, but I doubted that my mind could fabricate such a convoluted image. If I was going to imagine two naked men, they certainly wouldn’t be injured and banging on my door in the middle of the night.

I snapped out of my stupor and decided to just play along until I knew if this was real or not. After all, if there really were two wounded men in my castle, shouldn’t I help them?

“Er, yeah, sorry, come in,” I stammered, stepping aside so he could carry his fallen friend inside.

I quickly closed the door behind them and ran to offer support beneath the unconscious man’s other arm. He felt real. And warm. And muscular!

“Over there,” I huffed through the effort of carrying him, gesturing toward the couch.

Together, we carried his friend to my favorite couch and hefted him onto it. In the light of the fire, I could see that this man’s body was covered in deep scratches, the most prominent one a gouge in his abdomen, which was oozing deep crimson blood.

My hands shook as they fluttered frantically over the wound. I had helped the staff with the sick in the castle, had tended to the plague blisters and festering sores as my parents lay dying, but this injury was so much more urgent and fatal. I was completely out of my depth.

I tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of my slip, bundled it up, and pressed it to the oozing cut.

“Hold this firmly against the wound,” I instructed the other man, who was kneeling beside me. “I need to get some supplies.”

With a fervent nod, his hand replaced mine over the cloth. In the brief exchange, the contact of his skin on mine sent a strange zing through me, almost like a shock of static electricity, but warmer, and almost...comforting.

I shook myself from the abrupt surprise of everything that was happening and ran to the kitchen, rifling through drawers and cabinets to collect the necessary items into an empty basket.

Then I filled a bucket with clean water and dropped a clean rag into it before carrying everything hastily back into the den.

I dropped to my knees beside my strange visitors and got to work, cleaning the wound with the rag and bucket.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice shaky.

“We were on our way to...Rodak,” he sputtered, his eyes darting from side to side. “A group of cusith attacked us in the forest. Can you save him?”

Cusith? What the hell was that?

“I don’t know,” I said. “This wound is deep, and without better resources, I can’t tell if any vital organs have been damaged.”

His admittedly handsome face puckered in sorrow, forcing memories of my dying parents to the surface. The desperation I’d felt knowing I couldn’t do anything to save them.

“But I’m going to do the best I can,” I reassured him. “Hand me that needle and thread.”

He nodded and passed me the spool and hook-shaped needle.

With trembling fingers, I accepted them and began to sew the wound closed.

Pulling the gaping flesh together was an arduous chore, but the man helped by pinching his friend’s abdomen while I worked, and I managed to seal the wound tightly.

My sewing was sloppy at best, but at least the bleeding had slowed.

I taped a patch of gauze over the sewed gash, then went about tending to the other, smaller cuts across his body.

The passed-out man had a muscular build, looking formidable even in this state.

And naked as he was, every sculpted inch of him was fully exposed to my wandering gaze as I strived to patch him up.

He looked like a warrior, his thick raven hair caked with dirt and blood.

What could have possibly defeated such a man as this?

When that was finally done, I turned to his conscious companion, getting a good look at him for the first time.

He had a similar build, though slightly leaner.

Where his friend had black hair and a chiseled face that leant itself to a cruel beauty, this man’s hair was a soft brown, his features less harsh, pretty in a gentle way.

I peeled my gaze from his face and scanned his body for wounds, which turned out to be plentiful but less critical.

“Okay, let’s get you tended to now,” I said.

He rose and let me guide him to a nearby armchair, where I poured over each cut, cleaning and bandaging them.

“Thank you,” he said as I applied the last bandage to his upper arm. “After finding the village empty, I really didn’t think I’d find anyone here.”

“Yeah, I’m... uh... I’m the last one,” I said, my voice tight. But I didn’t want to talk about that. “What did you say attacked you?”

He cocked his head at me, frowning. “A cusith.” He said the word as if I should know what that was.

I shook my head.

“You really don’t know what a cusith is?” he asked with a note of astonishment.

Again, I shook my head.

His eyebrows flared. “Wow. That means they haven’t ventured this far yet. You’re lucky.”

I cleared my throat. “What is it?”

He sighed, grunting as he shifted on in the chair.

“The only way I can describe it is a shadow-beast, a hellish demon. They were thought to have been eradicated centuries ago, but in recent months, they’ve come out of hiding and began terrorizing inhabited areas.

We didn’t expect to encounter them in your neighboring forest.”

I wracked my mind for any mention of such a creature in Varinya’s history, but the black wolves were the only threat I’d ever heard of.

“Do you think this... cusith is resurfacing because the black wolves are gone?” I asked.

Something flickered in his green eyes when his gaze slid to mine, seeming to assess me for a moment. “I don’t know.”

I pursed my lips and looked down, my gaze falling on his fully nude lap. I snapped my head to the side and shot to my feet.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” I blurted out, my cheeks burning as I refused to look at him.

Skittering upstairs to my father’s old room, I hoped to find some garments that would fit my guests. I hadn’t been in my parents’ old bedroom in months, and the moonlight pouring through the windows caught the thick dust that hung in the air, forming cloudy blocks throughout the space.

Echoes of my father’s voice sounded in my head, treasured memories flashing behind my eyelids.

I bitterly pushed them away and began to dig through his clothing chest. I found two pairs of trousers and two button-down white shirts that might suit the men downstairs.

Then I fled the room before grief could capture me in its snare.

They were exactly where I’d left them. I went to the conscious man and handed him the clothes first while struggling to avert my gaze from his raw, masculine form.

“These should fit you,” I said as he accepted them.

I turned away as he put them on, setting the clothes for his friend on the arm of the couch and covering him with a blanket.

“I’m Aliya,” I offered, my back to him.

“Tannin,” he replied. “And his name is Jax.”

Tannin and Jax. The first people I’d seen or spoken to in four-hundred-and-twenty-two days.

Tannin came up beside me, fully clothed now, and looked mournfully down at Jax. “Do you think he’ll pull through?”

I hesitated before answering. “I did the best I could. Only time will tell.” I turned to look at him. “You’re both welcome to stay as long as you need to. You know, while you heal.”

A grateful albeit forced smile spread across his lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

That brief absence of pain on his face made my heart flutter and my breath catch. He was so much more handsome when he smiled.

“Would you like some lunch? Water?” I asked excitedly, wanting to see more of that smile.

“Yes, that would be very kind,” he said.

I carried the bucket and blood-soaked rags to the kitchen, and as I prepared a makeshift meal for him, hope began to sing in my chest.

For the first time in over a year, I had company. For the first time in so long that it hurt, I wasn’t alone.

I just hoped and prayed that they weren’t some manic hallucination, and that when I came back from the kitchen, they wouldn’t be gone.