Chapter 11
Once the horn rays have flown away, Nenneh Kadeh and the rest of the godsworn lead us and our gryphs to the scholarly-looking district I noticed earlier, where one of those jewellike buildings unfurls like an elegant flower in the middle of a grove of blue-leafed trees. It’s relatively austere, compared to the grandiosity of the rest of the island, a muted yet cheerful yellow structure, but at its center is a courtyard with a small, fragrant garden. At one end, platters of food are piled on a bright yellow table that seems to emerge from the floor itself.
“For you, our honored guests,” Nenneh Kadeh says, gesturing.
My friends and I don’t have to be told twice.
We converge on the table faster than a nest of sting-flies on a rotting carcass. Within what feels like minutes, the entire table is wiped clean of the very last morsel, and we’re all licking our lips and belching politely into the wet cloths we’ve been handed.
“My thanks,” I say when we’re done.
Nenneh Kadeh inclines her head. “It is our pleasure. And now, if you please, your chambers await.”
Li lifts a finger. “With hot baths, I hope?” When we all whirl to frown at him, he wrinkles his nose. “Whaaat? I’m filthy.”
“If you’ll follow me.” Nenneh Kadeh gestures at the group, leading us down a bright hallway with clear glass walls that peer into even prettier, tinier gardens.
That’s not our final destination, however. The godsworn lead each of us to our own separate room, inside which are small but luxurious bathing chambers covered in the same yellow stones as the exterior.
Any lingering suspicions I have about Nenneh Kadeh, the godsworn, and this island in general flit away the moment I spot the sunken tub brimming with heated water. Li was right: a bath was exactly what we all need. All my worries can come later. For now, I will soak my weary body for the first time in a month and finally rid myself of the ever-present stink of gold and blood.
“Thank you. This is all I require,” I say, swiftly waving the godsworn out the door. I would be more polite, but I’m too tired to manage it.
Once they’re gone, I strip off my filthy leather armor and make proper and lengthy use of the tub. Afterward, I put on the white sleeping robes that have been laid out on the massive canopied bed, sink into the cloth mattress, which is so soft, it might as well be a cloud, and fall soundly asleep.
By the time I wake, attendants in diaphanous pink robes are waiting by the door, lengths of blue fabric in hand. I know immediately that they’re godsworn, because even though they look mostly human, they’re all pleasantly soft around the edges and have an airy way of moving, as if they’ll float away if I take my eyes off them for just one moment.
“Have I been asleep for long?” I ask, yawning groggily.
“Only a day, Angoro,” the foremost attendant, a short, plump man with gold paint dusting his eyes and cheekbones, says in a voice that manages to sound both high-pitched and melodious, as if he’s singing every time he talks.
“A day?” I leap out of bed, headed for the farthest corner of the room, where I left my armor. But when I get there, Ixa is sprawled across it in his adolescent form, body lean and serpentine, tail stretched toward the door.
I poke him with my foot. Move, Ixa! I urge.
But Ixa sleeping,he whines as another attendant steps forward, one who looks so smoothly male and female, I know immediately that they’re yandau—those who are neither one nor the other.
“Our deepest apologies. We were told not to disturb you, Angoro,” they reply in that singsongy voice.
Like all the other attendants, they’re wearing a golden half mask, which covers their nose and mouth just as golden nail extenders cover their fingertips.
“Well, you were told wrong,” I say, rolling Ixa away as I search for my armor, only it’s gone, as are all the rest of my old clothes. I whirl to the attendants. “Where are my things?” I ask, infuriated.
“Discarded,” the foremost attendant says regretfully, shaking his head. “They were…unsalvageable, Angoro.”
“They were mine!”
“We have brought replacements.” He gestures and the other attendants hurry forward with the blue fabric, which turns out to be an astonishingly long dress. “For you,” he says respectfully. “I oversaw its creation myself. May I?” He looks at me so hopefully, my anger fades.
I glance down at the dress, which is so long, it requires at least four people to carry it, then back up at him and sigh. “Very well.” I hold out my arms as the godsworn approach with the dress.
It takes nearly half an hour to get me into the dress, but once they’re done securing me into it, I examine my reflection in the wall of cascading water that separates my room from the bathing chamber just beyond it. I’ve never seen anything like it. The collar is embroidered with gold and precious gems, and the rest of it molds and fits to my body as if it were a second skin. The fabric shimmers in the low evening light almost like scales, and some sort of insignia is embroidered on the cape that trails nearly to the room beyond. Only when I look at my reflection in the water wall again do I realize that the insignia is of an ebiki, one that looks very much like Queen Ayo.
The final touch is a crown of gold and blue coral that drapes over my forehead and threads through my hair. To my surprise, it begins to grow the moment the attendants affix it to my head, four golden horns sprouting above it.
They look so much like Ixa’s, my reptilian companion chirps, pleased. Deka pretty, he says, staring up at me. Deka pretty with horns.
I nod. You look wonderful too.
Indeed he does. While I was being dressed, the attendants were hard at work on Ixa. His claws have been tipped in gold, as have his whiskers, and some intrepid soul even managed to do the same to the tip of his tail. All he’s missing now is a crown, but as far as I’m concerned, he already looks like royalty.
“Oh, Deeeeka…,” Britta calls out cheerfully as she makes her way through the door, which the attendants have opened for her and Belcalis.
Then she sees my dress.
She rushes over to me, amazed. “Ye look like a queen! A queen of the ebiki,” she exclaims, gaping at my horns.
“One who’s been asleep for an entire day,” I grumble.
“Same,” Britta says, “although ye can’t deny we needed it.”
“True,” I acknowledge grudgingly.
Much as I hate to admit it, this is the sharpest I’ve felt for months. My mind is clear, my body is relaxed, and I feel almost happy, if that’s possible. I’m about to see Mother, about to reunite with her after two years apart.
I return my attention to Britta, who’s now whirling for my benefit. “You look beautiful,” I say when she’s done, a compliment that is no exaggeration.
Britta is wearing a stunning red dress, little golden hearts at the neckline and hems. She has always loved the color red. How the attendants knew, I have no idea. A small circlet adorns her forehead, red gems sparkling there, while yet more gems adorn her ears and neck. She touches her new necklace shyly.
“I don’t know how they knew I liked red an’ hearts, but it’s like they read my mind.”
“They likely did,” Belcalis humphs, walking closer.
In contrast to Britta, she’s wearing a dark purple shirt and matching pantaloons, which mold so closely to her legs, it seems almost scandalous to gaze upon them. The fabric is as iridescent as my own, so it shimmers in the light, giving the appearance of scales. She wears no jewelry, only a thin golden circlet that highlights her long black hair, which flows down her back.
When Britta turns to her, confused by her words, she explains: “They’re godsworn to Nian, deity of love and beauty. They have a sixth sense when it comes to clothing and adornments.”
Britta wrinkles her nose. “An’ how do ye know that?”
“Because unlike the rest of you lot, I explored instead of sleeping the day away.”
Of course she did. Belcalis is suspicious of everyone and everything. She’d never sleep in a place she hasn’t thoroughly scouted. It’s one of the things I admire most about her.
If I hadn’t been so weary, body and soul, I would have done the same thing.
I glance in her direction. “So, what did you find?”
Belcalis shrugs. “Everything seems benign. For now.” With that dire warning, she walks closer to me, her eyes taking in my new finery. “It truly is stunning,” she says, soft just for a moment.
My cheeks warm. “Thank you,” I reply, glancing shyly again at the water wall.
In all my years, I’ve never worn anything as fine as this, nor dreamt I ever would. Even when I was the Nuru, the goddesses’ loyal pet, no one ever offered me such beautiful clothing. I was always in armor, always standing unobtrusively at the goddesses’ side. An attendant instead of a companion. A subordinate instead of an equal. But this—this is not a dress that allows you to stand to the side. This is a dress that demands you be the center of attention.
Why the gods of Maiwuri would grant such a thing to me, I don’t know, but I’m grateful. At least when Mother finally sees me, she’ll see a daughter who is whole and relatively healthy, instead of the wounded and scarred person I was mere hours ago.
The reminder has me turning toward the door, ready to head to the Hall of the Gods. As I begin to walk, however, Belcalis steps in front of me and taps her lips.
“There’s only one touch missing,” she muses.
My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Instead of replying, she removes a dagger from her side, uses it to slice her palm. “Now that you like masks again—”
“You mean, now that I’ve reclaimed them,” I correct, reminding her.
For much of Otera, masks are a symbol of oppression: women are required to wear them to show not only that they are the property of men but also that they are pious and obedient. But I like to wear war masks whenever I go on a mission, as the ultimate symbol of my status as a warrior. For me, war masks are a symbol of self-expression, signaling that I can not only protect myself; I can protect others.
Belcalis nods, holding out her bleeding palm. “Now that you’ve reclaimed them,” she repeats dryly, “I have a gift for you.” As I watch, awed, her blood rises into the air and spins like threads to form a delicate, almost invisible golden mask that allows my skin to show through, giving the illusion that my face is covered by golden scales the same way my dress is. More like a shimmer than a mask.
“Belcalis…,” I breathe, astonished.
I’d forgotten about this, that my friends’ divine gifts can be used not only to protect themselves but also to entertain, to amuse, and even to create.
And create she has. In all the years I’ve worn masks, seen masks, I’ve never seen anything like this.
“It’s beautiful,” Britta says. “How did ye learn to do that?”
“I didn’t.” Belcalis shrugs. “I just thought I could make it, and so I did.” She returns her attention to me, her dark eyes peering into mine. “No matter what happens at the meeting, no matter what we encounter, I just want you to know that you carry my love and strength with you.”
“That ye carry all our love and strength,” Britta affirms.
I glance from her back to Belcalis, tears pricking at my eyes. “Oh, you two,” I say, sobbing now. I gather Britta close, then gesture to Belcalis, waiting until she steps forward to put my arms around her.
Belcalis has endured so much, suffered such atrocity, she rarely allows herself to touch or be touched. You have to ask her for permission, have to wait for her to be comfortable.
So I do just that, breathing in tandem a few seconds with her until her body relaxes. “Thank you,” I whisper to her. “Thank you.”
Belcalis nods, hooking her arm in mine. “Now we can go.”
Britta swiftly does the same to my other arm, and just like that, we’re out the door and into the light-filled hallway, where Keita, Lamin, and Li are waiting.
They’ve all been given new clothes as well.
Lamin is now dressed like all the other godsworn of Sarla, in sedate white robes with a cloak whose hood he only partly allows to conceal his face. “Evening greetings, Deka,” he says, ducking his head shyly.
I manage a swift nod despite the fury I still feel over the revelations of his misdeeds. “Evening greetings, Lamin,” I reply coldly.
Then I turn my attention to Keita and Li, who are both wearing vaguely similar robes, that fury still simmering deep inside me. I still haven’t decided how I should address Lamin’s betrayal. At least with Adwapa and Asha, they were sent to the Warthu Bera, the training ground where we all learned to become warriors, specifically to ensure my safety. They were always on my side. Lamin, however…The mere thought of it upsets me, so I focus my gaze on Keita. His new robes are dark blue, his favorite color, so he and I look like a matching set, although his clothing has none of the accents that mine does. Keita has always been a simple dresser.
The most decoration he allows is a simple circlet, but like mine, his has blue coral threaded through the gold.
Li, on the other hand, is at his most flamboyant. His robes are iridescent green and purple, like the brightly colored glimmerbirds that display their tails on Otera’s amarul trees when greeting the sunrise. Gold embroiders his neckline and hems, and yet more gold drips from the golden circlet around his brow into his long black hair, which has been brushed to silken brilliance.
Li preens when we approach, showing off the long gold earrings affixed to both ears.
“Don’t they suit me so perfectly?”
“Of course they do, ye bloody glimmerbird,” Britta sniffs, even though there’s appreciation in her eyes, and another, more primal feeling I’m not certain I want to see.
It feels too private, too intimate to intrude upon.
Li gathers her close. “You know you like it,” he whispers in her ear.
I ignore them and keep my eyes fixed on Keita, who hasn’t quite noticed me yet, he’s so busy surveying the room for threats. Just watching him stops my breath. I’ve never seen him so elegantly dressed, so handsome. The attendants have even paid special attention to his hairline, fading away the hair there while allowing the little coils that have grown over the past few months to flourish at the top.
The whole effect emphasizes his eyes, which glow in the low evening light.
Suddenly, I’m warm and flushed all over.
I venture a hesitant little wave, my heart pounding harder than it was just seconds ago. “Evening greetings, Keita,” I say softly, drawing his attention to me.
He doesn’t reply, but his eyes flicker over me, a slightly dazed look in them, as if he’s just been hit over the head with Britta’s war hammer.
“Deka,” he breathes, his voice suddenly hoarse. “You look…” He walks closer, takes my hands in his. He clears his throat as if trying to take control of his voice. “You look like a goddess. Like my goddess.”
My cheeks heat, and I glance up into his eyes. The fire there is burning brightly. It ignites a similar feeling in my body, and suddenly, I have to fight to keep from squirming. His hands are warm…oh, so warm….
“Thank you,” I finally manage to say. “You look amazing too. Like a prince. My prince,” I add.
“I will always be yours. You know that, Deka.”
I do. I’ve known it ever since he carried me in pieces to that lake two years ago so White Hands and the other Firstborn could heal me after the former emperor ordered me dismembered.
Before then, I’d never known a man, much less a boy, who would put a woman before his own safety. But Keita did that. He aided me when no one else dared. He defended me when no other man was willing.
He presses his forehead to mine, and I sink against him, savoring the feeling. The warmth. Ever since Keita received his fire, he’s become like a furnace, always boiling. It unnerves the others, but not me. Never me.
I like the heat.
“Angoro Deka…” It’s some moments before a hesitant voice interrupts the spell. I reluctantly pull back from Keita, then turn to find Nenneh Kadeh standing by the door in what appears to be her finest regalia, the white robes so sleek, they almost seem like a stream of fabric flowing over her.
“It is time,” she says quietly.
I nod, then look at Keita. He smiles at me, squeezes my hand. “No matter what happens, I’m here.”
“We all are,” Britta says, a sentiment that is repeated by the rest of my friends, who nod encouragingly at me.
I glance at them, gratitude shining in my eyes.
Then I nod back at Nenneh Kadeh. “I’m ready now.”
“Wonderful.” She gestures to the open door. “It is time to meet the gods of Maiwuri.”