50. Reflections #2
"She’s re-braiding his hair," Amara said, noticing my lingering eye. "It is tradition when family returns home."
I watched, fascinated, as the woman combed through Xül's long black curls, sectioning it. Her mouth moved constantly, saying something that had Xül and the others alternating between smiles and solemn nods.
"What is she saying?" I asked.
"Old stories," Amara replied. "She reminds Xül of who he is when he has been away too long."
Across the room, he laughed. I rarely heard him laugh like that.
"He doesn't visit often, does he?" I asked.
"Time moves differently for him than for us," Amara replied, her tone measured. "It will only get worse as the years pass." She gestured toward a toddler playing with wooden blocks in the corner. "Eliza there was just a babe the last time he came home. Now she walks and talks."
"Can you tell us about the Trials?" said a quiet voice beside me. I turned to find Dara staring up at me with solemn eyes.
A hush fell over the kitchen. The women's hands stilled, their expressions guarded.
"Dara," Amara chided. "We do not speak of such things."
"But Grandmother said?—"
"Your grandmother says many things," Amara interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "Go help your brother with the bread."
The girl slunk away, casting a curious glance back at me. The women resumed their work, but the easy atmosphere had shifted.
Across the room, I noticed Xül had gone rigid, his expression closed.
"I apologize," Amara said softly. "Those are… not subjects we discuss freely here."
"It's alright," I assured her, though I was curious about their reaction. "I understand."
Dinner was a joyous affair, with delicious dishes I'd never tasted—the stew we'd prepared, rich with unfamiliar spices; flat bread still warm from the oven; roasted vegetables glazed with honey and pepper.
We sat on cushions around low tables arranged in a loose circle. I found myself between Layla and one of the twins—Davi, I learned, Dara's brother.
"What’s your gift?" he asked as soon as I'd settled.
I nearly choked on my first bite. I looked around, expecting to see the same hesitation from earlier when Dara had asked about the Trials, but found no such thing. Everyone’s eyes were on me now, curious.
“Gifts aren’t a taboo subject here,” Nuri cut in, clearly reading my confusion. “Only the fate that befalls the people who manifest them”
Xül cleared his throat, adjusting his collar.
"It's... complicated," I told Davi.
"Can you show us?" he pressed.
"Davi," Layla scolded gently. "Our guest is trying to eat."
"It's alright," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure it was. I looked to Xül, raising an eyebrow in silent question.
He considered for a moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly.
I set down my spoon and concentrated, cupping my hands together. Drawing on the well of power within me—easier now after months of training—I coaxed a tiny point of light into existence above my palms. No larger than a firefly, it hovered and pulsed silver-blue.
Gasps and murmurs rippled around the tables. Davi's eyes were wide as saucers.
"It's beautiful," Layla breathed, her baby reaching toward the light with tiny fingers.
"Starfire," Nuri said, her voice carrying across the room.
I closed my hands, extinguishing the light before it could grow. "Just a parlor trick," I said, uncomfortable with the attention.
"Hardly that," Teller commented, raising his cup in a toast. "To talents both old and new!"
After dinner, when the youngest children had been put to bed, the adults gathered in a smaller room adjoining the main living area. Teller produced a set of carved wooden dice and a board marked with intricate patterns.
" Tashara ," he announced. "The oldest game in our village. Do you play anything similar in Saltcrest, Thais?"
"We have dice games, and cards," I said, watching as he arranged small carved tokens on specific points of the board. "But nothing that looks quite like this."
"It's simple enough," Layla explained. "The dice determine how many spaces you can move. The goal is to capture your opponent's tokens while protecting your own."
"Strategy and luck," Amara added, settling beside her husband. "Much like life."
Xül took a seat to my left. "Careful," he murmured. "Teller cheats."
"I heard that!" Teller protested. "Just because you lose every time doesn't mean I cheat, Prince."
"Every time?" I raised an eyebrow at Xül. "The mighty Prince of Death, bested by a simple dice game?"
"Strategy was never his strong suit," Nuri cackled, lowering herself onto a cushion with Layla's help. "Too impulsive, this one."
"I am not impulsive," Xül objected, though he was laughing.
"Oh?" Amara's eyes danced with mischief. "Shall we remind everyone of the incident with the fishing boat?"
Xül raised an eyebrow. "Must you?"
"I’m afraid so,” Amara countered with a grin. "Thais deserves to know what kind of man she's attached herself to."
"Now this I have to hear," I said, leaning forward with interest.
Teller laughed. "It was many summers ago. What were you, twelve? Xül was determined to prove he could catch more fish than anyone in the village."
"A reasonable ambition," Xül interjected.
"So, he 'borrowed' old Tomar's boat," Amara continued, making air quotes with her fingers.
"Without permission," Layla added.
"A minor detail," Xül said with a dismissive wave.
"He sailed it out to the deep channel," Teller continued, taking over the story, his hands gesturing expansively, "where the big river fish run. But he'd never actually sailed those waters before."
"I had observed it many times," Xül protested.
"Observing and doing are very different things," Nuri said wisely, wagging a finger at him. "As he discovered when the current caught the boat and carried him straight into the weeping willows on the far bank."
"The boat capsized," Amara said, barely containing her laughter, "and our future Prince of Death was found hanging upside down from a willow branch, tangled in fishing line, with not a single fish to show for his trouble."
The room erupted in laughter, including Xül, who shook his head in mock resignation. "The fish were clearly conspiring against me."
"Of course they were, dear." Nuri patted his knee consolingly. "Nothing to do with your complete lack of skill."
Watching him like this—laughing, teasing, fully at ease—he was a completely different person from the cold, calculating immortal I knew in Voldaris. Here, surrounded by family, he was simply Xül.
The game began, with Teller explaining the rules as we played. I picked it up quickly, much to his chagrin when I captured three of his tokens in succession.
"She's a natural!" Layla exclaimed, clapping her hands.
"Beginner's luck," Teller grumbled good-naturedly.
"Or perhaps your cheating techniques are too obvious," Xül suggested, earning himself a playful swat from Teller.
As the hour grew late, family members gradually excused themselves—Layla to check on her baby, Amara to prepare for an early morning journey to a neighboring village, the twins finally succumbing to their mother's insistence that they'd stayed up far past their bedtime .
“We’re going to bed. You should show Thais to her room,” Nuri suggested, stifling a yawn.
With that, they bid us goodnight and disappeared into their respective rooms, leaving Xül and me alone in the dimly lit space.
"Sleep well, starling," he said as he guided me down the corridor.
"You too," I replied, lingering in the doorway.
There seemed to be more to say, but neither of us found the words.
Part of me wanted to reach for him, to pull him into my room and continue to live in the dream this village so effortlessly weaved around us, where we could forget consequences and responsibilities.
The other part knew that would only complicate things further, blur lines that were already dangerously indistinct.
With a final nod, he turned and entered his room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The guest room was small but comfortable, with a narrow bed covered in colorful woven blankets, a small table with a basin of water, and a window that looked out over one of the smaller canals.
I washed my face, changed into the simple sleeping shift that had been left folded on the bed, and extinguished the lamp.
But sleep eluded me. I paced the small room, my mind churning with the events of the day—Heron's ominous warning about Thatcher, this unexpected glimpse into Xül's other life, the memory of his touch that I couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard I tried.
I moved to the window, pushing it open to let in the night air. The village was quiet now, most windows dark, the only sound the gentle lapping of water against the canal walls.
From this place of peace, the Trials seemed like a distant nightmare—Voldaris, the Bone Spire, the constant danger all felt like another life. Here, I could almost imagine a different path, a different future.
But that future wasn't mine to claim. I had responsibilities, oaths, a brother whose fate hung in the balance. And Xül... Xül had duties I couldn't begin to comprehend. Things he wouldn’t tell me.
I traced my fingers along the windowsill, feeling the worn wood smooth beneath my touch.
It was one thing to want his body— that I had already admitted to myself when I'd practically begged for his touch.
But this... this was different. Dangerous.
This felt like wanting parts of him I had no right to claim.
I turned away from tempting dreams that could never be mine, and forced myself to lie down. As I drifted toward sleep, I found myself hoping that Xül would bring me here again someday—to this place where, for a brief moment, we could both pretend we were something other than what fate had made us.