Chapter 10
Naia and the beast talked of everything: loneliness, existence, the particular variety of longing that rooted itself in the heart of every outcast. Hours slipped through Naia’s fingers like sand, and when the sun dipped low, the beast led her deeper into the cave.
When she saw what awaited there, her lungs failed. Amid the shadows, a rock-ringed pool glimmered, filled to the brim with pristine water.
Longing licked at her like tiny flames. She imagined leaping. Floating in that life-giving pool like a desiccated rag tossed into a bucket. She imagined absorbing sweet, sweet liquid through every pore.
“Go ahead,” the beast said. “Swim.”
Her legs nearly gave out. “Swim? What? Are you sure?”
“Certain,” he said, turning his back. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.”
With a broken, exultant cry, Naia shucked off her dirt-stiffened dress and jumped in. The pool’s embrace nearly made her weep. She floated. Sank. Drank her own weight in crystalline, nourishing water.
The beast was true to his word. He sat on a rock, facing away, his eyes never straying from the cave’s mouth. Naia wondered if princely Elias would have afforded her the same courtesy. Probably not. He’d once tried to peek up her skirts while combing the ground for a dropped coin.
Once she’d drunk her fill, she tugged her dress back on and combed her wet hair with her fingers. She felt like a new woman as she took a seat beside the beast. “How’d you end up like this? Cursed?”
He turned to look at her—sadly, and with such humanity that her breath stalled. “I’d tell you every word of that story, if I could,” he said. “But the curse binds me. I can’t speak of it. Not yet, at least.”
“When, then?”
He swallowed. “After. Once someone sings the song.”
“Oh. Will you teach me the song?”
Something crept into his eyes—a glimmer that looked suspiciously like dread. “I fear I will. I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself.”
She leaned in. “Stop yourself? But why would you want to?”
His throat worked. When nothing came out, Naia nodded. He couldn’t tell her.
“Why don’t I come back tomorrow?” she said gently.
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t. You should never, ever return.” But the words sounded as if they’d been dragged from him by force, and he gazed at her as if he wanted nothing more than to see her again.
“I’d like to, though,” she said. “I’d like it very much.”
His expression turned helpless. Beseeching. “That’s what frightens me.”
She didn’t know what to say to that—this mighty beast, worrying over the idea of her...well, something. She didn’t know what.
But she considered the villagers, withering in the heat, and Kano, whose cries had gone silent.
“I’m coming back.” Her voice rang in the wintry darkness like drawn steel. “Tomorrow.”
The beast turned away, hunching into himself. He didn’t look at her. “If you absolutely must. But for now, take as much water as you can carry. Please.”