Chapter 9
As Naia climbed, the heat nearly drove her to her knees. Sweat rolled from her cheeks, plopping onto the sizzling red rocks. She mourned every lost drop of moisture while flies swarmed in the dead air.
By the time she reached the mountaintop, her vision swam. A cave awaited, so she crawled inside and collapsed.
Inside, summer faded to a memory. The air in here was different. Never had she encountered such delicious cold.
After long minutes, some semblance of strength pooled in her limbs, and she raised her head. “Hello?” Her voice sounded like a dry branch breaking.
Deep in the cave, shadows stirred. A grumble split the darkness, then a hulking shape came barreling toward her, a blur of teeth and bristling fur.
Naia struggled to her knees, knowing this was the part where she should scream. Or run. Or, if she were a man, launch a flaming arrow. But the thorny tangle inside her tightened, lending her strength.
And so she didn’t blink, even when the beast skidded to a stop and roared in her face. His massive jaws snapped shut just inches from her nose. Froth dripped from fangs the size of her thumb.
Naia’s gaze traveled down, then up. He was even uglier than she’d imagined—a slab of muscle with matted dark fur, curling horns, and a leathery nose. Yet his eyes...
Something about them tugged at her. Something almost human.
“Hello,” she said.
He roared again, blasting her hair back from her face. “What will it be today?” he said. “Have you come to burn me? Stab me? Or perhaps you’d like to strangle me with a rope, like that red-headed fellow last week? He seemed to find that endlessly entertaining.”
Naia fought back her surprise. “You...speak?”
“Did I stutter, milady?”
She paused. Not only did he speak, he sounded.
..noble. Old-fashioned. Not beastly at all.
But then again, anyone who knew a song to turn the seasons would probably have an extensive vocabulary.
“No, you didn’t stutter,” she said. “And I haven’t come to burn you.
Or stab you. I have no desire to do any of those things. ”
He made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh. “Oh? What new weapon have you brought today, then? Some newfangled thing I haven’t yet had the displeasure of suffering?”
She shook her head in amazement. “No. Not unless you count my words.”
Those too-human eyes blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve come to talk. That’s all.”
The beast sat back on his haunches. His lips crooked, showing more of his teeth, but she was fairly sure he was frowning. “No one ever comes to talk. Only to hurt.”
“Well, not me.”
For long minutes, he simply stared at her. “All right. Talk, then.”
She’d meant to beg. To tell him about the wilted trees and dust-choked streambeds, about the villagers’ shadowed, sunken eyes.
But now that she’d come face-to-face with him, curiosity lit inside her, a flame catching over hot oil. What lay beneath those jutting teeth and accusing eyes? “How long have you been up here?”
“I... What?”
She cleared her throat. “How long have you been up here? Alone like this?”
He blinked, seemingly disarmed by the question. “I... A long time. A hundred years, perhaps. Or longer. It’s felt like forever.”
“That’s awful,” she said.
“Well.” He sniffed. “It hasn’t exactly been pleasant.”
“You know, I’ve been alone, too,” she said. “All my life.”
His gaze swept over her face, then the long, dark fall of her hair. “I find that exceedingly difficult to believe. You hardly look like the sort of woman who escapes attention.”
“Oh, but I am.” She laughed without humor. “Or used to be. I was ugly, once. Sometimes I wonder if I still am, and I’m the only one who sees it.”
He contemplated. “If that’s the sort of thing you wonder about, you’re probably not ugly at all.”
Her heart kicked against her ribcage. Would Elias have understood what she’d meant by that, much less have answered that way?
The beast exhaled, long and low. “You know, I used to be beautiful. Sometimes I wonder if I still am, and I’m the only one who sees it.”
“If that’s the sort of thing you wonder about,” she said, “I’m sure you’re beautiful, indeed.”
The beast eyed her. Something she couldn’t decipher moved behind his eyes. “Well, thank you for not stabbing me, at any rate. Or burning me. Fire is by far my least favorite.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Would you...” He shuffled around a bit. “...like to come in, perhaps?”
“Yes.” To her surprise, her smile deepened. It felt like it reached all the way to her toes. “Yes, I think I would.”