Chapter Twenty-One Samira
TWENTY-ONE SAMIRA
Sitting with my legs crossed on my cabin’s hard wooden floor, the chill of the earth below seeping into me, I gazed absently into the fireplace. Just as I had been for the past several hours. But no matter how long I sat by the blaze, the ice in my bones wouldn’t thaw.
There were three parts to the Merging. Now that I knew exactly what was going on, Rade saw no need to wait, so the opening ceremony would happen tomorrow.
I wondered if it would become obvious then that I was a fraud.
If it did, I hoped they would just kill me.
A hanging or beheading, perhaps—not something worse.
Accompanying that fear was an inexplicable guilt.
The Kaldfolk were meant to be demented beasts, as animalistic as the Shifters’ bear forms. But not all of them were Shifters.
Some, like Rade, held no beast form. And among those who were, Keir and Bain were the most frightening of the bunch, but for all their threats, even they had left me alone—mostly.
Granted, it had only been a handful of days since I’d arrived, but they didn’t seem like beasts.
They were just… people. Magical, Gods-Blessed people.
And my lies could get them all killed.
My deception was wasting valuable time, and when the twenty-two days were finally up, it might be too late to stop the Shroud.
No, I tried to assure myself, Queen Amunet will receive her powers by the Merging’s end, and she’ll save everyone. From drought and famine, and from the Shroud.
They didn’t need Samira. No one ever really had.
Except Queen Amunet.
I rubbed at my tired eyes. I’d barely managed an hour of sleep before giving up entirely. Dawn wasn’t too far off now, and I couldn’t stay in this room any longer, with my thoughts chasing each other round and round. I slipped my feet into boots, grabbed a fur cloak, and knocked on the door.
Nothing happened.
I knocked again. “Keir?”
No response. Not even a growl of annoyance.
Hesitantly, I reached for the doorknob and turned—
The door opened.
Barely breathing, I peeked my head out.
Keir wasn’t standing there. No one was guarding my door. Had he forgotten to lock it? Or had I earned some goodwill after offering to help? Whatever the reason, I thanked the gods for the small mercy as I stepped out and shut the door softly behind me.
Frostguard was painted in a gentle ocean-blue light, the last of the fading moon’s rays casting a sad pall over the place. The winding paths throughout the city glowed with torchlight.
Although I’d always hated Ashoran summers, I missed the blaze of the sun. It could be smothering, but it was home. And so much more bearable than this unyielding chill. I pulled the fur cloak tighter under my chin.
Two children scurried away from the longhouse, one of whom I recognized. Milena.
She followed a little boy into the nearby trees, where a fire’s glow stretched out like rays from the sun. Curiosity curled up in my chest, and I went after them.
Singing swirled toward me on the next breeze, soft and delicate.
Kaldfolk were gathered around a bonfire. Men and women of all ages, eyes closed. Milena and the little boy settled among the group, letting their lids drift shut, too. I paused just outside the fire’s circle and peeked around a tree.
The bonfire stretched several feet high, crackling loudly. And a body wrapped in a plain black shawl lay beside it on a makeshift table. Hedin’s body.
A woman with black markings curling up her neck stood in the center of the crowd, tears squeezing past her shut lids as she sang, swaying slightly.
She didn’t have an extremely skilled voice, but there was something enchanting about her song all the same.
Like the words were coming from the very depths of her soul.
I didn’t know the language, but the notes of sorrow and pleading in her voice resonated deep in my bones.
A drum pounded out a beat in time with her, and when I peered farther around the tree, I saw Keir.
He sat on a log outside the circle, a simple, beat-up drum held between his knees.
He didn’t wear his normal fur cloak, and I could see those fearsome tattoos on his neck stretching past the V of his neckline as he tapped his hands on the instrument.
With his eyes closed, his face looked different.
His strong jaw, slightly crooked nose, and hulking frame seemed softer.
Almost… appealing. If a monster could ever be such a thing.
The rest of the Seven were gathered around him, too. None of them bothered to close their eyes. Flames reflected in their yellow irises as they gazed at the body beside the bonfire.
“Hedin’s mother,” said a voice behind me, and I jumped.
Moonlight reflected off Rade’s brown eyes.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, moving to go back to my cabin. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, please.” Rade caught my wrist. His long hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, making his already kind face appear entirely open as he guided me back to his side.
He released my wrist and nodded toward the singing woman.
“Her name is Dara. She’s giving Hedin’s elegy.
When she finishes, we’ll bury him in the White Horn Mountains. ”
“Oh.” I shouldn’t have been here. This was a private moment.
But Rade leaned closer, eyes on the funeral in front of us.
“Mother, hear the cry of the damned,” he translated quietly, his breath tickling my ear.
“Mother, save those who bless your name. We submit to you, we love you, we need you. Mother, hear the cry of the damned.” His eyes glittered as he stared at the woman.
“It’s a prayer to Ketet that’s been passed down through the generations from the ancient tongue.
We say it every time a village is evacuated.
Dara’s using it to honor her son and the people of Netherridge. ”
The prayer was a call for help. The guilt returned, a knife to my gut, twisting deeper.
“Bain’s here,” I whispered.
Rade’s gaze shifted from Dara to Bain. “It was an honorable fight,” he said, voice tight. “A challenge issued and accepted. Dara will not blame him for besting her son.”
I studied the king’s clenched jaw, the anger in his eyes, and found myself asking, “Why did you let him do it?”
He sighed. “Because they all wanted it.” When he looked at me, his gaze was clouded with grief.
“I don’t want to replace Alarik. He was my Second for so long.
Picking anyone else…” He shook his head as if he could prevent the eventuality with that movement alone.
“I’ve been king since I was twelve. What twelve-year-old is ready to be king?
” He shrugged, then scratched at his beard.
“I have to pick my battles. Everyone wanted that fight. I had to let them have it.”
“But you’re Gods-Blessed. You’re more powerful than all of them. That alone should make them listen.” Amunet hadn’t even come into her Gods-Chosen power yet, and the whole world bent to her will.
“Maybe. But they wouldn’t like me very much.
” He smiled tiredly. “I’ve been hated and adored.
I’m not ashamed to admit I prefer being adored far more.
For as long as it lasts.” Beneath the thickness of his beard, I could make out a dimple in his left cheek.
He gestured to the clearing. “Would you like to join? You can sit beside me.”
“No,” I responded quickly, taking several steps back. Spying seemed wrong enough. I didn’t think the gods would forgive me for sitting among them. “I just needed some air. I should go back to bed—”
“Amunet,” Rade said, taking my hand in his warm one.
With the last of the moonlight reflecting in his light brown eyes and his short beard framing his sharp jawbone, he was beautiful.
Not at all like the nightmare I’d been promised.
“I know this must be a lot to take in. But you have my word that nothing will happen to you. We will enter each trial side by side, and I will make sure that you are safe.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t fully reassured. I didn’t think I would breathe normally again until I was back in Ashorah. Or in the Paradise Fields.
Rade’s gaze dropped to my hand in his. With furrowed brows, he turned it over and ran his thumb over the calluses on my palm. “You have rough hands,” he murmured in surprise.
Panic sparked in my veins. I snatched my hand away. “Yes. Yes, we royals… we… work.”
“Ah yes. You trained with the Khada Guard, right?”
“I—yes.” I swallowed hard and thanked the moon goddess, Ayeen, for hiding the flustered blush in my cheeks. Glancing back into the clearing, I saw Keir lift his head. Those sunny eyes scanned the area, drawing closer to where I hid.
I stepped back deeper into the shelter of the trees. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I should—”
“How many times must I ask you to call me Rade?” His lips quirked to the side.
A shy smile curved my lips. “Sorry. Rade. I should go before anyone notices me.”
“I think they’d be happy to see the Queen of Ashorah taking an interest in our customs.”
“I doubt that.”
Rade smiled sadly but said, “I’ll walk you back.”
It was actually rather pleasant walking by his side. Rade had a calming presence, a stillness within that stretched to encompass those around him. It was comforting.
He stopped outside my door. “I’ve instructed Keir to keep this unlocked. Feel free to walk around anytime.”
“Thank you.”
Before I closed the door, Rade blurted, “Wait.”
I paused.
He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed self-consciously. “I just… I know this is a wedding ritual, but it’s important that you know I wouldn’t—expect anything of you. That I would never… force myself on you, either. That’s not a, um, requirement of the Merging.”
“Oh.” A fierce heat stole over my cheeks. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. And with his power, I supposed Rade could force whatever he wanted. I didn’t put much stock in a Kald’s word, but for my own sanity, I chose to believe him. “Thank you.”
He laughed softly. “You really don’t need to thank me for that.”
My cheeks flushed even hotter. “Right.”
Rade started to back away, a smile still playing on his lips. “The day is yours to do with as you like. I’ll see you at dinner.”
I nodded, and he turned and strode into the trees, back to the funeral. I watched after him for a moment before softly shutting my cabin door.
A husband. I hadn’t even had a suitor. They were prohibited among the Gods-Chosen’s maids. Too much of a distraction. And now I would have a husband.
No. No, I wouldn’t make it that far.
I sat on the edge of my bed and stared down at my callused hands.
I’d never given them much consideration before. All slaves had hands like these. Rough skin, cracked and dry. When we’d bathed Amunet, I’d never even noticed the difference between her smooth, unblemished skin and mine. But Rade was right, my hands were… they were disgusting. Used, chapped.
If Rade had picked up on something so small, what else might he see? My whole body screamed out that I was a liar, that I wasn’t special or chosen or royal. I could not hide that forever.
Maybe that was why Keir hated me so much. Maybe his Shifter senses could smell the filth I’d tried so desperately to wash away in the saltwater bath. Maybe when he looked at me, what he saw was the many, many things I lacked.