Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
REM’EB
T he interior of the Great Oracle—or the “ship” as Tia’s people call it—is foreign to me. The surfaces are icy cold and frosted over, and when Harlow touches them, lights blink and flare. I eye the place in wonder, noting that Set’nef and Tal’nef look equally as baffled as me. It smells—and looks—like metal here, but I catch smells of other things, too. The floors are slanted, with several ropes anchored along tilted walls so visitors can move around, and there are muddy footprints on the metal floors. My breath frosts inside, hanging in place now that we are out of the wind.
Noj’me makes a choked sound of pure joy, her expression rapt.
I look over at Tia. Her face is carefully blank, her eyes puffy. The resonance song in my chest is lighter now, and I imagine it is melancholy at the thought of leaving her. Is this how Gar’duk the Forge felt when his mate was made to go behind the wall again? Is this how every male in our village feels? How can they endure it?
A strange voice speaks out as we enter and Harlow speaks back to it in her strange language. The Oracle. It must be. Something that looks like a metal arm descends from the ceiling and poises, waiting. I glance over at Noj’me, but she does not seem surprised by any of this. She nods, expression eager.
“May I go first? To get the Oracle’s words?” Noj’me looks at me, then at the brothers.
I nod. I should watch her, to see how the deposit of the words happens. It was explained to us while we traveled—the Oracle will let out a thread of bright red light and it will touch the eye, but we will not feel it. The light will shine into our minds and we will fall asleep, and when we wake up, we will have the new words. It seems like nonsense to me, but I trust Tia, and she trusts her tribesmates.
Harlow gestures at a mark on the floor, and Noj’me pulls on the ropes before sliding her way over to the center of the tilted room and bracing her feet. “I am ready,” Noj’me declares, her expression radiant. “Fill me with your words, Great Oracle!”
I look over at Tia again. I cannot take my gaze from her face. I want to memorize every line of it, the small upturned nose, the smiling lips that are so soft against mine when we kiss, the sweep of her dark lashes. I should think of what I want to say to her when I have her words. I want to say something wise. Something that conveys everything I feel for her. Because resonance has faded away over these last several days and…
I yet feel the same when I look at her. Just the sight of her smile makes my spirit light. I am forever entranced by the curve of her hips, the way she walks, the sound of her laughter. She is soft, and gentle, and caring. She is also brave and determined, and a hard worker. She is clever and curious, seeking answers like the loom. Truly, any chief would be proud to have her as a mate.
So…why am I leaving her?
I ask myself that even as Noj’me falls gracelessly to the floor in the center of the room. “Someone grab her,” Tal’nef calls out even as Harlow squawks some of her human words and lurches forward. Rukh grabs Harlow before she can slip, and Set’nef grabs Noj’me’s limp hand before she can slide into the wall.
Then they look at me. “ Yerturn ,” Harlow says.
Tia meets my eyes, her expression determined, and gestures that I should move. She gives me a thumbs-up to reassure me that all is well.
I step forward, the movements difficult due to the slant of the floor. Every bit of me wants to turn and tie myself back to Tia. Not because I am frightened of this Oracle, or of the beam it will send into my head. I want to return to Tia because it feels as if I am going to lose her.
Yet…I am supposed to, am I not? I have vowed to return. I have declared that my people must come first.
So I step forward and grab the rope that dangles in the center of the floor. I take it in hand and straighten, standing on the mark that Harlow points at. She makes another gesture, indicating I should put my shoulders back and keep my chin up. This is safe, I tell myself, even as I shoot an unnerved glance over at the fallen Noj’me. This is not some trick…
But I think of my Tia.My sweet stranger. I am keeping my promise to her.
A bright red light flares in front of me and a sharp, hot flash streaks through my skull. As I sink into darkness, I wonder…would I do such a thing for any of my people?
Or just Tia?
My head throbs, a pulsing heat behind my eyes. I groan, reaching for my brow, only to have my hand gently pushed aside.
“Here, let me.” A wet cloth is pressed to my brow, cold and unpleasant instead of soothing. “Actually, I don’t know that it’s helping. Do we have any warm water, guys?”
“The fire is down below,” says another voice. “Once they are fully awake and can climb down, we can heat water.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t help now,” the sweetest of voices says, close to my ear. Warm fingertips brush over my skin. “If you can understand me, open your eyes slowly, Rem’eb. The light might bother you and make the headache worse.”
Tia.
Even as I recognize her voice, I notice that she speaks a different language than mine…and yet I understand it well. There is no confusion, no hunting for meanings. I know her words as well as I know my own. I open my eyes and wince at the light that streams in, blue white, unnatural and without warmth.
“I told you to open your eyes slowly,” Tia chides, leaning over me. We are still up in the heights of the ship, upon the slanted floor. My foot rests against a wall, my shoulder against Tia’s hip, and we are still anchored together. Her worried gaze skims over my face and her fingers caress my jaw. “Did it not work? Say something to me, Rem’eb.”
I lick my lips. “You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Her eyes flood with tears of relief and she gives a watery chuckle. “Oh, thank god. I was going to ask how many fingers I’m holding up, but that sounds better to me. Say something else too, so I know you’re not just being randomly romantic.”
“My weight could have pulled you out of the ship. It is dangerous for us to be tied together. I do not like it.”
“I kept you anchored.” She flicks the rope attached to her waist, and I notice there is a second one attached to a railing on the wall. She is tied to the ship, and also tied to me. “I wouldn’t let you fall.”
My lips are dry, so I lick them again. “I do not like it. Your safety?—”
One of her hands goes to her hip. “Are you really going to pick a fight now? When we can finally talk clearly?”
I struggle to sit up, managing after a moment. The tilt of the floors is making me dizzy, and I remain where I am, waiting for my mind to settle. “I do not want to fight at all.”
“Right. Because you’re leaving soon.” Her voice catches. “You’re right?—”
“I do not want to fight because it is foolishness.” I take her hand in mine and press a kiss to her wrist. “Because I would rather say other things to you.”
She glances around the room. “Perhaps we should wait until we’re alone.”
I can see others lying nearby, being tended to by the human females that journeyed with us. Do I want to wait? Perhaps. But the desire to never cause another moment of pain to Tia overrides the need for privacy.
Her hand still in mine, I rub her knuckles against my lips. “We have many things to say, you and I. But I have realized something and I must speak it first.” I gaze up at her. “I will stay here with you.”
“Here? Like in the ship?” Tia’s brows furrow. “Why?”
“No, you misunderstand.” I stroke her soft fingers, marveling at their delicacy. So fragile and yet she is so strong of will. I kiss her fingertips, content with my decision. It will pain me, but the pain of failing my people will be less than the pain of failing this one lone female. “I will stay here. Above. With you.”
I wait for her to be full of happiness. For her to squeal with joy and fling her arms around me. I want to see her joy.
But her mouth flattens into a line and she gives me a troubled look. “We’ll talk more when we’re alone.”