Page 27 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sava

The night air had turned crisp and sharp in the short time the sun had been down. Sava was grateful for the extra layers he’d thought to wear. Next to him, even in her wool armor and cloak, Khana shivered.

Guilt was an inky stain in his chest. He was no expert in trauma, but he knew that forcing people to relive it did more harm than good. Haz could only talk about his when he felt safe and comfortable. Same with Athicha. The opposite of what his family had just done to Khana.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said, breaking the silence that had stretched as they reached the street. “And for ambushing you like that. That wasn’t right.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed, finally looking up at him. Snowflakes fell on her ebony hair; it’d grown since she’d first arrived, the longest strands brushing her shoulders. “But thank you.”

He relaxed, the weight in the air lifting. “I’m glad you made it here. Some of us like you, at least.”

She snorted. “Yes, I can tell your mother adores me.”

Sometimes Sava forgot that his mother was not just his mother; she was an intimidating leader who was harder to read than stone – to anyone outside of her family.

He shrugged, smiling. “She’s coming around. She was willing to talk to you rather than arrest you right away. She has a soft spot for courageous types.”

Khana burst out laughing. He gave her an odd look, not seeing the joke.

“Oh, you’re serious,” she realized, her mirth tapering off. “I’m not courageous. I’ve been terrified since… well, childhood.”

“Courage can only exist in fear,” Sava said, his heart twisting with her admission. “We’re going to war. If you’re not scared of that, then you’re not brave. You’re a fool. And you know what we’re fighting better than any of us.”

She looked down at the snow crunching beneath their boots. “Sava, if I had the means, I would be running to the other side of this tundra as we speak. And I’d keep running.”

With anyone else, he’d put his arm around them in a half-hug. But he’d noticed Khana often shied away from being touched, and he didn’t think it’d be welcome right now. So he asked, “Why did you enlist?”

“I wasn’t going to let Haz go off without me. He’s the closest thing I have to – well, I suppose we are friends now,” she said. “Besides, the night creatures that Yamueto’s going to throw at us… I helped make those.”

Sava raised his eyebrows. It was funny, especially considering the conversation they’d just had in his house, but he sometimes forgot that Khana was a witch, and what that meant. Even when she stood next to him in a soldier’s armor, she didn’t look particularly dangerous. She looked good . Really good. But he could never claim to be afraid of her.

Watching her heal Pabu had been an experience. He’d never seen a person glow before. She’d sucked the life from a yak with two breaths, killing it without a touch, and used its strengths for her own ends, defying death itself.

And yet she was terrified of everything, especially the empire. That did not bode well.

“How?” Sava asked, forcing his mind to the present.

“When Yamueto executes multiple people at once, he has all of the witches in court attend him. We all drain their aji, and then push it back into him, and he uses it to create the night creatures. If you refuse, you’re next.” Again, she looked down, a slice of black hair shielding her eyes. “I always took as little as I could get away with. Just enough to start a glow. But I still did it. And I can’t… I can’t run from that. It just seems wrong, to flee while the creatures I made are going to attack the people who have helped me.”

Sava’s chest warmed. He wanted to reach out to touch her shoulder but pulled back at the last second.

“You may not think you have courage, but never doubt that you’re a good person,” he said.

Khana looked at him, heartbrokenly confused and maybe a little hopeful.

And then her stomach grumbled.

Sava inwardly cursed. “We should’ve offered you some food instead of just tea! I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I could’ve stomached it,” she muttered. “I hope the inn isn’t busy.”

“If it is, I’ll insist on you serving me,” he said. “It’s rude to not eat with a guest, you know.”

“Thank you, Sava. But you should get some rest, too.”

“Bah. I’m usually up far later, gambling my money away.” He considered her for a moment, wondering if they should talk further about what she’d been through. Any other secrets she might be keeping.

But that atmosphere was gone. And Sava decided that the best way to get her to open up would be to show her some trust. A bit of friendship.

“Do you know any games from your desert land?” he asked.

She huffed a laugh. “My mother hated gambling, so no.”

“What about music?”

Her face turned wistful. “Yes, actually. A lot of the instruments were unique to the desert, made of the animals and plants there. But I was able to replicate some of the music on Reguallian lutes and flutes.”

“I thought you didn’t play the flute.”

“Not well. I’m far better with strings.” She held up her gloved hands. “Skinny fingers.”

“You should perform,” he encouraged. “The inn could use a bard.”

“Shouldn’t that be you, Mister ‘I have an entire collection of flutes?’” she teased.

“Ugh. With what time?”

“Excuse me, I have two jobs! You only have one!”

She said it teasingly, but he still felt the contrition. “Fair. Here.” He pulled his bone flute out of his jacket and handed it to her. “Show me a desert tune.”

She blinked, then carefully took the flute. Music, in Sava’s opinion, was a universal language, and one of the best ways to introduce someone to a new place or people. It had been what first drew him in to the Reguallian refugees: their songs of hardship, of endurance and prosperity and happier times. Of joy and rebuilding and defiance of a tyrant.

He’d tried to get Athicha to learn after they’d lost their voice. But they were tone-deaf and couldn’t carry a beat to save their life. At least the disastrous flute lesson had gotten them to laugh for the first time since Myrta died.

Khana bit off her gloves and gave the flute a few gentle blows, getting a feel for the notes it could make. It was a simple instrument, short and high-pitched, so it didn’t take her long. Sava found himself distracted by the shape of her lips against the mouthpiece, the way her thin fingers skillfully danced across the holes. So distracted that he didn’t realize she was playing a song until it was almost halfway over.

He turned away, focusing his ears as they continued down the mostly empty, darkened streets. The tune was eerily beautiful, reminding Sava of the rare flowers he would find growing stubbornly out of the frozen tundra, the only green thing for miles. It was simple and soothing, something that could lull children to sleep.

His guess was confirmed when the song ended, the last note fading into the starry sky, and Khana wiped the mouthpiece. “That’s called ‘Oasis Lullaby.’ It sounds better on a lower octave, and I probably missed a few notes.”

“It was beautiful,” Sava said, taking the flute back. Even through the gloves, he could feel the warmth that Khana had breathed into it. “Is that something that you’d play for those ribbon dances?”

Khana gave him a kind smile. “No. That’s just a children’s lullaby. Ribbon dance songs tend to be a bit more complicated and much more fast-paced.”

“You dance?” That was something Sava would love to see. That, and her with a lute.

“Quite a bit,” she said, a note of pride curling around her voice. “I had ten of the twelve sub-sets mastered by the time I left the empire.”

“Really? You need to show me before the Feast of Garmiva.”

“Feast of what?”

“Garmiva. She’s the summer goddess. We celebrate her return when the ground turns green, and the elk migrate back to this side of the tundra. Lots of singing and dancing. There’s even a music competition. I got third place once. Spent all the money on drinks for me and my friends.”

That had been a bittersweet night. Myrta’s loss had still been a fresh wound barely scabbed over. But Haz had gotten out of his relationship with Bhayana, and it had been good to hear him laugh while Athicha dragged them from dance to dance and ate way too much food.

“That sounds lovely,” she said, rubbing her wrist with a wistful look on her face.

“Khana?” he prodded.

“Sorry. I just miss my lute. I tried to take it with me, but it didn’t even make it out of the palace.”

“That must have been precious to you,” he said. If he had to leave Pahuuda immediately to escape an evil, immortal emperor, he would want to bring only the essentials. Food, money, clothing… and yes, one of his flutes. That would, at the very least, make the travels more bearable.

She smiled, as she visibly blinked back tears. “You have no idea. I don’t think I would have survived there without it.”

Sava silently let her pull herself back together as they reached the inn. Lutes were expensive, but gifts were expected at the festival. Maybe…

She cleared her throat just as a man staggered out of the inn, cutting between the two of them and reeking of vodka. He saluted Sava. “Sir chief-son. Ma’am witch ma’am.”

Sava bit back a snort. Khana watched him go and huffed. “I should get in there.”

“Is it busy?” Sava asked, opening the door to get a peek.

To his surprise, the dining hall was mostly empty. The bulk of the customers were the rest of Khana’s unit, eating dinner in the corner.

“I don’t think I’ll need to do more than wash dishes after I eat,” Khana said cheerfully.

Which meant there was no reason for Sava to linger. Well, it was a public inn. He could stay for as long as he pleased. But he’d already pushed Khana enough today.

“Right,” he said, stepping back. “I should probably…”

“Would you like to stay?” she blurted.

Sava paused. What ?

“Just for a quick bite,” she added in a rush. “Unless your parents really need you, then you should go. Or if you just don’t want to, of course.”

She’s nervous , he realized. But not in the cornered, scared of her own shadow way that he typically saw from her. No, this nervousness was… lighter? More innocent. As if she genuinely wanted him to stay. Like a friend.

Maybe more.

He smiled. “I’d love to.”