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twenty-five

Carnaxa

“ A l? t neni pe , o a l? peng? pe w? lomo popo ra l?”

“Daughter of Prophecy.”

“You are weak.”

“Combine the mountain and the valley.”

I shake my head to rid myself of the dreams that never leave. Even now, when I’m awake, the voices plague me. I sit beside Siphonie in our carriage as we head north. Siphonie told me before we left that the men we will meet are those whom Shaston doesn’t want to deal with. So the King sends them up north to help, knowing they will most likely die from the monsters or at one another’s hands.

Memories continue to return in pieces, but nothing seems like my life. It’s like reading a story. I can visualize it, but I can’t truly be the main character. I know what Siphonie has told me, as well as Ereon, and even Rhenor confirmed many things before we left. I know what Thylas said was mostly true — but I don’t know myself enough to know if I really wanted any of this. My hands fist in my lap as my thoughts swirl.

Maybe everyone is lying to you, everyone wants you to fail.

The words scatter across my mind but I ignore them, just like all the other thoughts that seem not to be mine. I run my hands over my face and remove the hood I was forced to wear — and should continue to — in case sunlight comes through the small window near me. I pull out the high ponytail I forced my hair into today to let it flow down my shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Siphonie asks, still too worried to say much. “You look troubled.”

I glare at her. I shouldn’t be angry with her, but I am. I’m more angry with everyone with each passing day, except Ereon. I don’t know if it’s the twin drop or not, but he’s the only one I am not currently irritated with. I scratch at the garish black band around my wrist that seems to burn more as time goes on.

“Just thinking.” I try to smile at her, but I know it doesn’t meet my eyes.

She seems to consider something before pulling something out of her pack. She hands me a worn leather book with four circles interlocking in the middle of the cover surrounding a divot. Each circle holds one of the symbols of the elements.

“It was in your possession before the Shaston border.” She takes a breath finding her words. “I found it, and I kept it safe. It has words of your mother’s in its pages, the rest I can’t read — too much Antihana. But I thought, maybe it would bring you some comfort.” She smiles at me.

I lean over and give her a hug. “Thank you so much, Siph.”

“You’re welcome.”

The annoyance and anger I felt earlier gives way as I flip the pages carefully and the Antihana words come into view. Suddenly I spot my mother’s writing:

The prophecy will come to pass. It has to.

“Siph, do you know what this means?” I point to the passage and she smiles, happy that I’ve actually spoken. We haven’t talked as much since the Nle Shom . Even Ereon and me. He and I still share a bed because I feel safe with him beside me, but we’ve not really spoken. The last night — our last night in Shaston — he came to bed, but he brought with him a sadness. His coolness swept around me in the darkness as he pulled me close without a word, but the next morning he was already gone, readying everything so we could leave when I woke.

“The prophecy ... the one Queen Natala told us?”

I look at her and shake my head, not sure what she is talking about .

“Upon the day the moon turns bright, the loyal heir’s death awakens eternal night. The waters will rise and the fires will blaze, then only the sacrificed can save.” She stops to take a breath. “I don’t know how she said it so eloquently. That took everything I had to say in one breath.”

I pick at a cuticle of one of my nails before her hand covers mine.

“What? You’re worrying.”

“King Atlas, the night of the Nle Shom , called me ‘daughter of prophecy.’ And I’ve been having these … dreams.” I don’t know why I haven’t told anyone about them, probably because they would treat me with even more fragility than they already do.

“Dreams? Naxa, you should have told me — we can get someone to find you a healer. See if it’s something else that has to do with the fall you took? Have you told Ereon?” Siphonie leans over as if she’s about to call out when I stop her.

“Don’t. I don’t want anyone to know, not now. No, I haven’t told Ereon. They’re only dreams. That’s all. I just ... I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” I don’t mention the growing anger or irritation, hoping it’s something that will pass soon enough. She eyes me suspicously but gives up on pushing further. I turn my attention back to the book in my hands.

The Antihana words appear as they always have — a mix of symbols and words that I can’t understand. Some pages bear the marks of time, their edges yellowed and brittle. However, it’s the first page that captivates me the most. I let my fingers drift over the words as they fade away and back again to form something I can understand :

My name is Drāhēn? and this is my story for the world to know so that all may understand.

Abruptly, the carriage comes to a halt, causing me to lurch forward and snap my head up. As soon as I thought I had read the words, the Antihana is no longer recognizable. I rub my eyes with the palm of my hands, before rubbing my wrist that wears the Shastonian cuff. My skin continues to chafe and redden from where it burns.

“Come on, Princess, I’ve got something for you,” Ereon calls from across the small fire that wards off the cold creeping in. The sun is behind the dunes, casting shadows everywhere. Night won’t be far behind.

I look up at him confused, but he smiles and holds his hand out to me. I place my hand in his and look around. Everyone is gathering what they will need for the night, the guards taking their positions. Siphonie and Rhenor retreated to their tent not too long ago. Anara has been busying herself and it seems, staying far away from Ereon. Every time he has walked her way, she has acted as if she doesn't see him and retreats elsewhere.

He helps me up and I dust off the back of my long midnight-blue dress that I chose for this ride. It’s thick and still in the Shastonian style, but was comfortable enough to wear in the carriage for hours. Ereon loops my arm in the crook of his and leads me to a circle made of fire posts.

“You said you wanted to train, correct?” He leads me to the middle of the circle where there is a pack on the ground. He releases my arm, squats down, and pulls out a pair of khaki pants that are made of loose-fitting linen, same as his.

“Are you really going to? I expected you to not take me seriously. What’s that?” I ask as he pulls more material from the pack.

“If you want to train, I’ll train you. I told you I would. But I don’t know how to train someone in a dress. So I had these made for you. It’s similar in style to what the Prel wears. I wouldn’t suggest wearing them around the castle, but out here — away from the castle — my word is what goes, and so you’ll be fine.” He shifts his head to our tent. “Go change into these and come back.”

I quickly change into the clothing he had the forethought to pack. Along with the khaki pants is a brown, scoop-neck sleeveless top, a leather bustier, and a brown leather belt. It took me a few moments to realize how it all went together, but after I figured out the bustier went over the top, I quickly realized how to wear everything else.

I squeeze my fingers, the leather fingerless gloves are stiff. I walk out of the tent with the shemagh headscarf in my hands. I still haven’t gotten used to wearing one; Siphonie has shown me multiple times how to tie one, but it’s a fight. I can feel the stares from the men of the Prel as I walk back to Ereon. A slimy feeling washes over me as their eyes roam my curves .

“I’ll walk with you,” the Ambassador comments from my left. He pulls his hair away from his face in a half bun, with the rest of his dark tresses sticking to the back of his neck with sweat. “And let me see your scarf. I’ll put it around your hair.”

“You don’t have to.” The words come out with more spite than I wanted. We’ve not spoken since he cornered me in his room, but I stick with what I said to him. I don’t trust him, no matter what others may tell me. His story seems too good to be true.

Because he wants to use you.

“Actually, I do. I may be Ambassador, but I was the Captain of the Ke Neye , and I’m still your personal guard.” He pulls the white scarf from my hands before turning me towards him. “Stay still.”

“You could position someone else as my detail.” I let out a huff, while he wraps the scarf around my hair, making sure it’s pulled down in the front, all the way to my brow, the rest of the material hangs against my chest. Thylas’ emerald eyes take me in, his expression full of sadness.

He lets his fingers trail down the side of the scarf nearest my cheek. “Even in Shastonian clothing, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Their clothes could never hide the beauty that you are.”

My cheeks heat, and feel as though there are butterflies in my stomach. Thylas snatches his hand away and turns, waiting for me. We walk back to the ring, approaching Ereon who stands with a smile spread across his lips, his eyes devouring me .

“No matter what happens, your safety, Noh? , will always be my utmost priority.” Thylas sighs, his feet dragging the sand beneath them.

“You are an ambassador. Your utmost priority should be the people of Antalis. And what does that even mean? Noh? ? I don’t understand why you keep calling me that.”

He cocks his head. “One day, I’ll tell you again.” His words sound hopeless before his tone changes to the one I’ve heard him use with the soldiers. “The people are important as well, but your father knew where my loyalty was when he assigned me this position. He knew I would choose you over anyone else.” He turns his head addressing Ereon, who is waiting for me. “You need to get your men on a leash. She was simply walking from the tent and some were planning to approach her. I could tell it wasn’t without a reason.” They share a silent conversation it seems before Thylas shakes his head and he walks back the way we came.

“And I thought you looked beautiful in Antalis, but those pants” — Ereon makes a whistle sound — “maybe I should figure out how to train you in a dress because that outfit shows everyone your curves — the ones I get to call mine.”

Instantly, a rush of warmth floods my cheeks and I quickly avert my gaze towards the ground. My feelings for him are still a tangled mess, just like everything else has been since I woke up.

He smirks and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Here.” He hands me a staff and I take it in my hands. The wood is pale in color and smooth to the touch. It feels light in my hands, but sturdy enough I don’t have to worry about breaking it. I hold the center of the staff and let it roll between my palms.

Ereon walks behind me, wrapping his arms around me and moving my hand to the center.

“What you’re holding is the shaft. I want you to swing it around while keeping your hand there. Switch hands, change hands. Anything that feels natural. You need to get a feel for it before we do anything else.”

I follow his instructions a few times until my arms are tired. I stop and let my arms drop. “This is ... harder than it appeared to be.”

He takes the staff from me before he backs up. He rolls the weapon effortlessly in his hands, switching hands and twisting the staff behind his back. Before he kneels down, sweeping the sand that looks like a wave as it sprays in the opposite direction. He’s fluid in his motions, going from one motion to the next in beautiful transitions. I’m amazed he never even hits the curved blades at his back. He slams the staff back into the ground and turns his gaze back to me.

“Trying to impress me?” I ask.

“I might be. Did it work?” He gathers our things. “I learned some things here in Shaston, but most of what I learned was from Anara. I was going to ask her to come tonight, but she ... has been very busy. Anara learned to wield this particular weapon when she was a child.”

I look to camp; Anara is standing beside Thylas. Both of them are looking in my direction, but it’s the way her hand gracefully dances with the flickering flame beside her that captivates me. When she moves her hand to the right, the flame mimics her motion. She notices me staring and closes her hand in a fist, the flame returns to a natural flicker.