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thirty-two

Carnaxa

I sit with Siphonie and Rhenor, laughing as they verbally and irritatingly spar with one another. She’s telling him how loudly he snores and he’s reminding her he isn’t the only one. She slaps his shoulder, and I feel comfortable for now. The conversation with Anara still lingers in my mind — she knows more than what she is saying. I stand up, dusting off the back of my pants and walk back to the food tent. I’m hungry and hope they haven’t put everything up for the night. I enter the tent, anticipating darkness, only to gasp at the sight of someone already inside.

Thylas looks up from his own scrounging and smiles. “Needing a late-night snack?” He looks away before shifting through a bag of fruit.

Before I can leave, my stomach grumbles. “It would appear so.” Removing my scarf, I lean down and try to read the labels on the individual bags and crates scattered throughout the tent.

“The cheese is over there.” Thylas points to a crate towards the back of the tent and I smile.

“How did you know that’s what I wanted?”

He walks towards me, his boots scrapping the hard ground below us. “I know you, Carnaxa. We used to make a game of stealing cheese late at night.”

I warily eye him before I start walking toward the crate and attempt to pry it open. It doesn’t budge.

“Here ... let me.” Thylas’ warm body appears beside me and I move out of his way. He rolls up his sleeves and his forearms flex with visible muscles as he effortlessly draws the sword from his hip. With little effort, he pries the top open with the tip of his sword. He reaches inside and I glimpse tattoos that cover his corded forearms disappearing beneath his sleeves. The tattoos aren’t surprising. I know those in the Ke Neye have them, but his seem to pluck at something buried deep inside of me. I note the w?ngesk on his forearm and smile, the Goddess’ sacred creature that came to her during the Great War. But it’s the tattoo around his wrist that pulls my attention the most. Noh? .

He pulls out a small cheese wheel and hands it to me, but he catches me staring. His lips tip in a half smile and I take the cheese from his hand. “What does it mean?” I ask.

He sighs and looks up before looking back at me. “You never noticed before. Of course you would now. It means ‘my dream.’ I used to dare to dream.”

I look at him, his emerald eyes staring into mine. I don’t know why, but I reach out tentatively and brush my fingertips against his arm. His eyes dart to the contact and then back to me. He breaches the small distance between us.

“Don’t you see the ripples anymore, Naxa?”

I shake my head. “I don’t ... I’m sorry, Ambassador —”

“Don’t call me that. You’ve never been one to call me anything but Thylas. Can you not feel me? I have held you in my arms more times than I can count, my back bears the marks of my promises to you. I promised to be your safety, and for so long I pushed you away. I pushed you away when you wanted me and now, when we finally have a chance, you’ve fallen through my grasp like sand.” He reaches up to touch my face and to my surprise, I don’t pull back. I search and search but every memory I try to call forth doesn’t come. His fingertips trail across my jaw and I flinch, but I don’t reject his advance.

“I’m sorry ... I’ve tried. I feel lost in the dark when I search for the memories. I barely know more than what people have told me about the last few moons. Glimpses and words, but it’s conflicting, and it’s hard to even feel as if they are true. I’m sorry ...” I don’t know why I tell him all this. I don’t have to explain myself to him.

He is just trying to use you for my crown.

The thought crosses my mind, the same thoughts that made me doubt him. I look up at him, almost begging for a feeling of a ripple to stir or a memory to explain things, because no one can look at someone how he is looking at me and not speak some truth.

He just nods his head and removes his hand. “But you feel it with Ereon?”

“I do.” I take a step back from his suffocating heat. “I saw the twin drop ripples between us on more than one occasion.”

“I’ll fix this, Naxa.” He leans down, kissing my cheek gently. “I’ll make it right. I won’t let you live in the dark anymore.”

He walks away, the tent flaps shifting in his exit, and I stand there. A frustrated scream bursts through me as I slam my fist atop a crate. I just want to feel normal again, to feel like myself.