Twelve #2
going to get across?” I wondered. “Especially during Demon Hour.”
“We have tents,” Kysa replied, gazing over the desert with critical eyes. “And portable shelter for the rock beetles. And
we’ve packed enough water for a long expedition. It will not be easy, or pleasant,” she admitted, still staring out at the
barren dunes. “But it should be enough to make it across.”
Raithe glanced at the sky, where Namaia had begun her descent toward the horizon. “We should find a place to make camp for
the night,” he said. “The base of the mountain will probably have a few caves or places to set up. We’ll head out into the
sands at dawn.”
We didn’t make it all the way to the base, but found a flat ledge against the wall of the mountain that provided adequate shelter and a fantastic view of the desert below.
We took care of the rock beetles and set up a tent as the sun slipped from the heavens and the temperatures dropped sharply.
After a dinner of tough gritbread and even tougher jerky, I looked for Raithe and found him sitting on a rock at the edge of the cliff, gazing out over the desert.
I had caught a few tiny grimaces from him while we were riding down the mountain, when Ratuk had stumbled or come down a little hard.
In typical Raithe fashion, he hadn’t complained, but I knew he was still in pain, and it worried me.
Bouncing down a rocky mountain path probably did not help to heal broken ribs.
“Hey.” I joined him at the ledge, shivering a bit in the suddenly chilly night air. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, one hand going to his side. “A bit sore from riding a rock beetle all day,” he admitted with a rueful smile, dropping
his arm. “But it would have been worse if I was on a sand dragon, so I can’t complain too much.”
Overhead, the sky blazed with a million stars, lighting up the dunes that stretched away until they touched the sky. I gazed
at that silver sea, abruptly feeling very small. Like I was a single speck of dust in the middle of a desert, and I was somehow
expected to stop the sandstorm that was looming on the horizon.
“Raithe.” I looked down at my hands, my heartbeat picking up inside my chest. “You said . . . you would always be honest with
me.”
He went perfectly still a moment, before he let out a quiet sigh. “What do you want to know?” he asked softly.
Never trust a kahjai with your heart. I shivered. I couldn’t ask him about that, not yet. It was too soon. We had just gotten to the point where we were okay
with each other again. But this thing between us was still so fragile, and we were still tiptoeing around each other. If I
brought that up now, it might shatter this—whatever it was—completely.
Though maybe it was better to get it over with. If Raithe was forbidden to be with anyone, we had to face that truth eventually. Putting it off until later, when it would be far more painful to let go, seemed like the wrong choice.
I can’t. Not yet. I’ll ask him soon, just . . . not now.
“I was wondering about the queen and the iylvahn,” I began, feeling his steady gaze on me. “When you said they’ve all given
a part of themselves to fuel her power, how does that work? It is given individually, or does she take it from everyone as
a whole? What happens to those who do give it to her? I’m trying to understand . . . for when I have to face the Deathless
King.”
Raithe relaxed a little, as if the question wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. “I don’t know how it is for other Deathless,” he
began, “but the queen and the iylvahn are all connected. Our threads are . . . tied to her, in a way. As far as I understand,
she can siphon a bit of life from the entire nation of Irrikah, and no one misses it or is any the wiser. But if she needs
to draw on her full power, that’s when she asks for individuals to make a sacrifice. Never more than they are willing to give,”
he added, as I winced in horror. “In the past four hundred years, there has never been a case of an iylvahn dying to fuel
the queen’s power. But yes, she will occasionally ask for volunteers to give up a bit more of their life so she can keep the
city thriving.”
“Have you ever been asked?”
He nodded slowly. “Once,” he admitted, making my stomach turn over. “A long time ago, before I became a kahjai. An army of
rogue insect riders were assaulting the Maze, trying to find the center, and the queen needed to deal with them. I was part
of a group who volunteered. It was an honor to serve, to keep my city and my people safe.”
Kysa would probably not be happy to hear that. I made a mental note not to bring it up in her presence. “Did it hurt?” I asked, wondering why I was suddenly so morbidly curious about the queen’s bond with her subjects.
“No.” He shook his head. “I was weaker for a day or two, but other than that, I didn’t notice anything different. It does
shorten your natural lifespan, but we are a long-lived people. A few years is trivial against the lifespan of a few centuries.”
“Then . . .” I jerked up in horror. “In the Maze, when you, Halek, and Kysa offered a bit of your lives to save me—”
“It only works that way for the iylvahn,” Raithe said, stopping me before I could go any further. “Because we’re connected
to the queen, and she is constantly siphoning a bit of our life force. We’re never given the chance to recover.” His words
were reluctant now, though he didn’t falter, and I couldn’t help but feel a prickle of guilt. He was taking his vow of truthfulness
seriously. “Halek and Kysa should be fine,” he went on, “though I would argue that they would have made the same decision
even if their lives were shortened.”
“But, you . . .” I clenched my fist. “You didn’t need to do that, Raithe. You had already offered a part of your life to her
once.”
“Sparrow.” Raithe hesitated, then held out a hand to me, palm up. I gazed at the offered hand a moment, heart pounding, then
reached out and placed my palm in his. Those long fingers curled around mine as he gently pulled me forward, until we were
facing each other on the rock. I swallowed, gazing into those pale blue eyes. Even when he was sitting, we were nearly at
eye level.
“When are you going to realize that I would do anything for you?” Raithe’s low voice made everything inside me writhe into hopeless knots.
One arm rose, fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, as my heart began pulsing in my ears.
“My whole purpose is to get you to the World Scar, and to protect you along the way. But I hope you know by now that it’s more than that. ”
He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping him as he bowed his head. “I have . . . never felt this way, about anyone,” he murmured,
making my stomach continue its wild dance. “This is entirely new to me, and I’m still struggling to find the way forward.
I know I’ve already made mistakes.” His brow furrowed slightly, though his eyes stayed closed. “If I could go back and change
what I’ve done . . .”
“Raithe.” I pressed a palm to his cheek, causing him to look up at me. “I’ve made mistakes, too,” I whispered. “I don’t know
what’s going to happen to us, and that scares me. I know I have all sorts of past trauma about betrayal and trusting people.
But the thought of . . . losing you, that scares me even more. So, I guess . . . I guess what I’m trying to say is . . .”
My voice shook; I took a quick breath to steady it, willing my heartbeat to calm down. Raithe hadn’t moved; his eyes continued
to sear into mine, intense and burning. I couldn’t hold his gaze and looked down at my hands again.
“I want this,” I finished in a whisper. “I trust you, Raithe. And I’m going to try very hard to keep those fears in the past
where they belong. But please, for my own sanity, promise me that you’ll at least try to stay alive when it looks like I’m in trouble.
I’ve spent the past seventeen years taking risks and dodging the consequences—I know how to keep myself alive.
I’ll get to the loom, and I’ll face the Deathless King, but if I have to do it alone .
. .” My vision blurred, and I closed my eyes.
“Everyone from my past life is gone,” I said, my voice barely audible even to me.
“Promise me that you . . . that you’ll at least try . . .”
I will save you from your fate. I swear it. I can’t let you go now.
Raithe’s soft touch on my cheek made my voice stutter to a halt. I opened my eyes, meeting that piercing gaze, and the emotions
churning within made my heartbeat roar in my ears. His fingers trailed down my cheek to cup my chin, gently pulling me forward.
I closed my eyes as our lips met, and for a moment, all my fears of the queen, Maederyss’s loom, and the Deathless King faded
away, and there was only us.
Raithe drew back so that only a breath separated us, emotions burning strong in his gaze. “I promise,” he murmured, making
my throat close and my heart turn over in my chest. A tiny, rueful smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he continued
to gaze at me, fingers sliding through my hair. “It’s strange—this is the first time my mission is to keep someone alive rather
than kill them. I’ve never wanted anything for myself, but with you . . .” His thumb brushed my jaw, sending a shiver through
my whole body. “I will gladly try to stay alive, if it means you’ll be there at the end.”
I kissed him, and his arms slid around my waist, pulling me onto the rock.
His lips moved with mine, and my heartbeat roared in my ears.
I pressed myself against him, wrapping my arms around his neck as his crept up my back, drawing us even closer.
I wanted this. I wanted him, though I knew I shouldn’t; the queen herself had cautioned me not to fall for him.
But I couldn’t seem to stop myself, and right now, I didn’t care about the warning of a Deathless.
I would deal with those fears later. Right now, all I could feel was him.
A cry echoed from the distant horizon, causing us to pause and look up.