35. CHAPTER 35 #2
“I'm the Takja.” He lifted a key from a necklace tucked beneath the folds of his robes and unlocked the door. “Think of me as the teacher.”
Hakym flipped a switch, and light filled a room the size of a closet.
Books packed the shelves and covered the room in tall stacks, all surrounding a lone desk with a pen and a blank volume opened on its surface.
“We record our history here. The door is unlocked during your stay if you want to read. We have records of everything. You might find it interesting.”
What was this old man’s agenda? “I don’t like people who don't say what they mean.”
“I always say what I mean.” Hakym had a deep and raspy voice, one Miya wouldn’t necessarily call gentle, but quiet, nonetheless.
She traced one of the books. She could find her mother somewhere in here, couldn’t she?
“Who really runs things?” she asked. “You or Bale?”
“That’s a bit like asking whether man or God has more power in this world. If we have free will, it makes for a challenging question, does it not?”
“Don't be obnoxious. It looks to me like you have plenty of say here.” Her heart hardened. “Why did you let Lance go to Krowe's estate and get mixed up in the war?”
Hakym lowered his head.
“Suddenly you have nothing clever to say, old man?”
“I couldn’t stop it,” he said.
“You’re writing your people’s history, and you couldn’t keep Bale from sending a sweet guy like that into a war zone?”
“I chose to go.” Lance came into view. “If you’d asked, I would’ve told you. Bale wanted it, and it’s best for everyone.”
“It’s not best,” Hakym said, holding the edges of his robe.
Lance smiled. “We’ll see. Where’s the key to the greenhouse?”
“Ah.” Hakym rocked back on his heels. His face lit. “Let an old man boast about his gardening and do be kind enough to pretend to be impressed.”
Miya bit her cheek to keep from smiling. This Takja might be her ticket to a deal with Bale, especially with how friendly he seemed toward Lance.
They wound through a maze of halls until they entered the greenhouse. Warmth met her as she stepped into the room and breathed in the fresh scent of growth. Peas spread out to her left, beans beside them, the green sprouts of baby carrots after that, and then bright spinach leaves.
Lance pinched the leaf of a bean plant without breaking its outer membrane. “Looks good.”
“What did I tell you? I wouldn’t let a single one die.” Hakym made a bridge with his fingers. “Let me enlighten you with the secret to my gardening. For forty days, three times a day, mind you, the plants found nourishment in the wisdom of the Old Ones alone. As did I.”
Miya raised a brow.
Hakym pivoted her way, whispering from the side of his mouth. “I watered them and kept them warm, but the boy here loves my parables. I must indulge him.”
“I don’t, actually.” Lance lifted a watering can from the ground, his back to them.
Hakym shook his head in disagreement. “On the fortieth day, we feasted. A long, but fruitful wait.” He lowered his voice to such a whisper that she struggled to hear. “Your highness.”
It could have been the captain squeezing her throat for how her breath caught.
Lance rounded the soil around the base of a tall bean. “She doesn’t want to hear your stories.”
Hakym’s gaze found the mark on her finger. With the smile still on his face, he met her stare again, tears misting his eyes. He lifted his weathered finger to his lips as if to say hush. Miya’s stomach twisted.
“I’m sorry,” Hakym said. “Very sorry. I won’t say a word.”
“Say what you want as long as you’re not annoying her,” Lance returned.
Her hands trembled as she clutched them into fists. If Miya had met him, it couldn’t have been when she was anything more than a child. Even if she did look familiar to him, why would he be so certain that he was face-to-face with a dead girl?
Miya hung behind as the two men exited the greenhouse. Her heart thumped off the stone walls of the tunnel and echoed down to where the entire village could hear her panic. The men’s conversation faded to a hum until someone came for Lance and took him to Bale.
Miya had nowhere left to turn except for the life she’d left behind, as though the past could provide refuge from the future. No running.
The jovialness vanished with Lance gone. Hakym bowed his head.
Miya’s voice tightened. “Get your head up.”
“I won’t tell Lance, and he won’t figure it out. It’s just that you took me by surprise. Here you are,” he said. “Alive.”
“Of course, I’m alive. I have no idea what—”
“As soon as I saw you, I knew. You look so much like her.”
Miya stepped back for the exit, not sure of where to flee to, but ready to run.
“When I sat at the foot of your mother’s bed, haunted by all I’d failed to do… You stared at me with those eyes.” His expression scrunched. “I should have stopped Bale from abusing his power. He's brought us to ruin. And he stole your mother’s future when he offered her hand.”
The memory returned to Miya as if covered in dust and unearthed from a box best left packed away. She saw Hakym’s face as it had been, smoother, with fewer traces of old age.
“How could I ever forget such eyes?” He lowered his hands to his side. “So, when you looked at me today, and you asked me how I could let Lance go into a war zone…” The tears broke free and fell down his face. “There was no denying it was you, my dear.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong. I don't know you, and I don't care about Lance or you or any of this.”
Hakym’s eyes softened.
Miya swallowed hard. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what, child?”
Sobs built in her chest, but she turned them into flames of fury. “Like you pity me.”
“I’ve never seen a woman so fiercely beat herself into a life that's much too small for her.”
“You’re a piece of work. You play holy man in this basement surrounded by things that make you feel like you hold the world in the palm of your wise hand. What have you done to change anything?”
“Not as much as you attempted to do at one time, I’m afraid.” Hakym watched her. “Is that why you pretend you don't care? You regret trying?”
“We don't know each other. Stop talking like we do.”
“You know, Lance loves me. He loves our people. It might kill him. If you’re afraid of what might happen if he loves you the way he loves us, you should be.
And if you’re afraid of what might happen, should you love him too, then I sympathize with you.
Our world is much less frightening if you have no one to love. If you pretend not to care.”
Miya scowled. “You are so presumptuous and arrogant.”
“I only want you to know that I see you, and I'm here to serve you. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll help you.”
“Get Lance away from me. That’s what you can do to help.”
“That may be the one thing I can’t do,” Hakym said.
“That’s how it always is with people like you. You say you can’t do anything. Get your ass upstairs and tell Bale he isn’t coming back with me.”
“You underestimate what Lance is willing to do. He's loyal, and when he decides to stand with someone, he doesn't change his mind.”
“He can stand with you. I’m not taking him.”
“I think he’s already taken.” Hakym raised his brows. “He brought you here into the heart of our village without clearing it with a soul. Not even me. That’s not good for him.”
Miya shook her head. “Why wouldn’t he tell Bale about me?”
“Bale would have said no. Lance forced the situation.”
Pain clenched Miya’s heart. She hadn’t even told him what she needed to meet with Bale about. “Why would he do something as stupid as that?”
“I’m sure that’s something only the two of you could answer.”
Footsteps pounded, and the door swung open. “Bale’s ready for you.”
“It’s about time.” Miya gave Hakym a glance, enough to see the concern. “Unfortunately, I will more than likely see you later, old man.”
“Goodbye, my dear.”