Chapter 12
AMAIA
“There’s been some gossiping about you,” Syris informed me in a hushed tone as we wound our way through the village.
I frowned, casting a quick look over at her though I felt a dip in my belly, thinking I might know what it was. Still, I played dumb. “What about?”
We were on our way to get feed from the outer fields for Kyr.
Another hatchling was expected to come this afternoon, and I was eager to get back so I could witness it.
Hatchlings, I’d learned, ate a specific type of grain, soaked in animal fat and blood.
It sounded disgusting, but Tarkosh assured me it was the only thing hatchlings ate without fuss.
It was soft enough for digestion and high in nutrients, supporting their accelerating growth.
The outer boundaries of Grymia were apparently rich in cropland and grazing livestock, which were sometimes used for Elthika consumption.
But Syris had told me that most Elthika liked the hunt and while they were large beasts, they didn’t need to consume food as often as one might think, replenishing much of their energy on heartstone magic, which the land was still seeped in.
And now that new thalara trees, which grew heartstones, were being replanted throughout Karak and Dakkar, they would need the livestock even less. There had apparently been worry over the growing demand, sometimes entire fields of them wiped out by a passing wild Elthika pack.
It was a long walk to the outer fields, and Syris was apparently waiting for some semblance of privacy away from Tarkosh to lay the news on me.
“You were seen leaving the Karath’s dwelling,” she told me. “Last night. When no one had seen you since the night of the feast. You’re lucky Tarkosh didn’t have your head. Kyr was unmanageable that day.”
I sighed. “I told Tarkosh the truth. I had been unwell. She said she’d verify it with the Karath, and she told me this morning that she had.”
“I’m just trying to look out for you. Grymia is small—people know everyone’s business here. It’s not like Grym, which is so vast you can at least walk down one of the roads and not know everyone’s name. And believe me, you don’t want to catch the attention of the gossips.”
“It’s not what it looked like,” I assured her.
“Then what happened? Because it looked salacious. They said you were still wearing your dress from the feast night.”
I let out a small groan. I thought I had been careful when I’d crept from Alaryk’s home that night. It had been late enough that I hadn’t seen anyone around, and I’d scurried back to the hatchery, already wondering how I would explain my absence to Syris and Tarkosh.
But someone had seen. And they’d drawn their own conclusions.
In my mind’s eye, I remembered a flash of Alaryk’s bared backside and the glint of metal piercings—
I coughed, my cheeks heating, which didn’t make me look any more innocent. The only thing that could prove it was the truth. Or perhaps a half-truth.
“I collapsed in the forest after the feast night,” I told her.
She gasped, stopping on the path. “Are you okay? I told you not to drink so much wine—”
“It wasn’t that,” I said, trying and failing to meet her eyes.
We’d just started to descend down a dirt path that hugged the line of the forest. We were already past the landing field, and at the base of the path, I could spy fields of tall grain.
“I get these…episodes. Where I get sick. I don’t remember much.
But he brought me back to his dwelling, and I woke up two days later. ”
The story felt flimsy even to my own ears. “Why wouldn’t he just bring you back to the hatchery?”
“I don’t know,” I grumbled, a little frustrated that I’d done nothing wrong and yet I was getting all of the suspicion. “Maybe I’ll ask him that the next time I see him. But I swear…nothing happened.”
Syris inclined her head, and we resumed walking. “And these…episodes. How long have you had them?”
“All my life,” I said.
“Have you seen a healer?”
I almost scoffed out a laugh. If I’d gone to a healer for my heartstone magic back in Dothik, that would’ve been a sure ticket straight to the orala sa’kilan, the priestesses’ stronghold in the North Lands.
“Many,” I said, my only willful lie. “It’s always the same thing from them.”
“Maybe a Karag healer,” she suggested. “Our healer here in Grymia, Raran…she’s quite knowledgeable about all kinds of ailments, both heartstone-induced and mortal. Perhaps you can consult with her.”
I smiled because I knew Syris was only trying to help. “I think that’s a good idea. While I’m here, of course. It couldn’t hurt.”
She beamed. But then her smile slowly died. “Just be careful. With Alaryk. Did you know that Elysom thinks he’s a spy for the Hartans?”
“Surely, you’re kidding,” I said, frowning. “How long has he been a Karath?”
“Oh, over a decade now,” Syris said, her tone breezy. “But you never know. People talk.”
“Well, maybe that’s the issue,” I said. “People seem to talk too much here.”
To our right, just past the landing field and on a steep incline, I spied rider training. A large group of acolytes, being barked orders from an older female, Myzalla close by.
The riders had a rucksack filled with stones strapped to their backs as they tried to sprint up the incline. I nearly winced in sympathy, imagining how much their lungs and legs must’ve burned. But then I spied Ryak, nearly doubled over. I imagined Kiron in his place and looked away.
“He’s handsome,” Syris said quietly as we walked past. Ryak had turned his head to regard us, glaring. “What’s his name again?”
“Ryak,” I told her. “But I wouldn’t go near him.”
“Why not?” she asked, though I knew she was probably too shy to ever approach on her own.
“Just a gut feeling. I don’t really know him. But, well, back in Dothik, all the females know to stay away from a guardsman.”
“Like a rider, perhaps,” Syris said. “All they want is to be on dragonback. My father was one.”
“Oh?”
“And he left long ago,” she said pointedly.
“Oh,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My mother and I aren’t.”
“Does she live here?” I asked as we were nearing the grain field. There was a path that cut to the right, curving around the fields, and in the distance there were a few stone buildings where we could see people milling around.
“No, she has a shop back in Grym. She can’t leave it for the season unless she hires on help. I used to help her run it…but she always knew I wanted to work with the Elthika. And there’s nowhere better to do it than here.”
I took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.
She gave me a smile, her scar pulling at her mouth.
“Now, let’s go get these awful oats.”
After we left the farmstead, our baskets overfilled with satchels of the heavy, stinking grain, we both struggled up the incline back to the village.
“On Muron’s blood, I know why those farmers are so fit,” Syris grumbled through her heaving breaths. “Usually Moak does this, but of course he’s nowhere to be found today of all days.”
“We should’ve asked Brune,” I said. While I was feeling much better today than last night, I still had a prickling headache and felt like I needed a solid day of sleep. But I hadn’t wanted to give Tarkosh another reason to mistrust me if I lay in bed all day.
“Yeah, we should’ve. He’d been quite eager for the chance, actually,” Syris said.
“He probably just wanted to go into the village for a chance at spotting Ethrisha,” I panted through gritted teeth.
Syris’s exhausted giggle drowned out my heaving breath.
Momentarily, we paused for a break close to where the riders were in training, though they were all sprawled out on the ground, listening to their instructor.
The instructor clapped, and they all pushed themselves to their feet, beginning to disperse with weary shoulders and slow limbs. Perhaps it was their midday break.
“Think he’ll carry these for us?” Syris asked, hands on her hips, as she spotted Ryak, who’d caught a glimpse of us.
“Maybe if they were filled with gold and he got to keep it,” I said, watching as he approached, my eyes narrowing on him. We’d been here for a little over a week already, and we hadn’t spoken with the exception of that first day upon arriving.
“You have a moment, pyroki girl?” he asked when he drew close. For Syris’s sake, he flashed a charming smile when he looked over at her. “You don’t mind, do you? In fact, I’ll have my friend help you back to the village with that. Nevin!”
The second guardsman came walking gingerly over.
“Help her back to the village with that basket, would you?” he told Nevin.
Nevin hid the flash of frustration on his face valiantly. “Sure.”
Syris looked back at me. “What about you?”
“I’ll be okay,” I told her. “I’ll see you back at the hatchery.”
“Don’t be too late,” she warned. After a brief nod, I watched her and Nevin begin walking up the slope, growing more and more distant.
Ryak crossed his arms over his chest, nudging the basket at my feet with the tip of his muddy boot. “What in Kakkari’s name is that awful smell?”
I wiped my arm over my forehead. “Feed. Soaked in blood and fat.”
Ryak scoffed. I didn’t know why his derision annoyed me, but I bit my tongue.
“Did you want something?” I asked pointedly.
His eyes regarded me as I watched a drop of sweat run down his tanned temple.
“Heard something interesting this morning,” he said. “About you and their Karath.”
Unbelievable.
“I would think idle gossip beneath you, Darukkar,” I said, raising my brow. “And regardless, it’s not true.”
“I don’t need to remind you what we’re doing here,” he told me.
“Actually, you do,” I said, my palms upturning in frustration. “Because I actually have no idea what we’re doing here. Beyond what my brother initially told me, that is. And you haven’t exactly been illuminating either.”