Sky Stitcher, page 18
“A quick stop, if you don’t object. I never did get those halfmoon breads you promised, and I believe they were part of our original deal.” He looked at me and frowned. “Of course, I’m not complaining. Due to…circumstances,” he amended awkwardly. “But I am hungry.”
I’d promised him halfmoon bread and failed to deliver. I couldn’t help that when we arrived at the guryas we found nothing but flames, but everything was a transaction with him...some deal or negotiation. I wished he’d never brought it back up.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” Rue began.
“No, it’s fine. A deal is a deal.” And perhaps deals are all that matter to him.
Rue led me through the alleyways to a more modest part of the city, off the processional path but still bursting with life. Street vendors with reddened cheeks cried out, children bolted past ambling adults in pursuit of spinning hoops, and the smell of charred meat and spices filled the air. He stopped, inhaling deeply with his eyes closed and nose lifted, then steered me toward a little stall on the right-hand side of the street. A couple walked away from the booth, chattering brightly as the woman ripped a steaming halfmoon bread down the center, handing the other piece to her partner.
“Halfmoon bread,” Rue whispered enthusiastically. “Would you like one?” He flashed his palmful of coins at me.
“No, I’m fine,” I responded, frowning at the reminder of home. I held back, not wanting to call attention to myself, but watched Rue approach the stall with an eager swagger to his strides. A portly man with a flour-dusted apron and very few hairs left clinging to his balding head leaned his arms over the counter, regarding Rue with a suspicious glare. He tended to elicit people’s misgivings simply by existing, as if they sensed his origin, even if they didn’t recognize it.
But the man’s expression brightened when Rue slapped the handful of coins on the counter. I grimaced, wondering how egregiously generous his overpayment was, and if Rue had any inkling of the coins’ value. The vendor behind the counter did not ask questions, though. He merely eyed the coins with a greedy glimmer of delight before sweeping them into his apron. Rue returned bearing an armful of halfmoon bread, every bit as delighted as the merchant. He stuffed the extra bread into his pockets, then took a hefty bite from the one still clutched in his hand.
“Let me have a taste,” I said, simply with the intent to irk him.
Rue’s eyes widened, aghast. “You know I don’t share.”
I suppressed a laugh. I had finally learned how to get under his skin. But to my surprise, Rue sighed and ripped off a chunk of his treasure, passing it to me. I shook my head. “I’m only kidding. I’m full.” A lump of something like guilt formed in my throat.
“Good,” Rue responded, popping the whole chunk into his mouth. He chewed, reflecting for a moment, then leaned to whisper into my ear. “Because you would have had to fight me for it.”
“And I would have won,” I shot back at him, then blinked with the realization of my own gall. What is this brazenness, Zara? Where did that come from? But I knew I’d said it to rile him. To stir his attention so I could watch his eyes sharpen and his muscles tense as he regarded me with his expression of great intrigue. When he looked at me like that, the world paused in mid-spin, as though he’d become important to me. As though he’d become everything to me.
I shook the ridiculous notion from my mind. He was dangerous. A ruthless killer who’d snap the neck of a man without thinking twice. A monster of the In Between. A mistake I needed to deal with.
“Zara, Daughter of Halah!” a stern voice shouted, followed by the sound of the uniform striking of boots. I turned, heart hammering at the sight of a dozen palace guards swarming toward me. Rue angled his body ever so slightly, stepping between me and their formation.
“Zara, Daughter of Halah. Thank the goddess you are unharmed. Your presence has been requested at the palace. The king requires an audience with you.”
Chapter 19
The King’s Bees
The guards did not grant me the courtesy of time to manage the galloping pace of my heart, nor to still the storm of sand wings flitting about my stomach. They ushered me to the main hall of the palace without delay, walking over the black and white tile with long, purposeful strides. Our connection never strained, so I guessed Rue remained close by, but he clung to the shadows so even I could not find him when I searched to borrow courage from his gaze.
The scalloped arches of the entrance allowed sunlight and fresh air to pass through the filigree columns. As we progressed toward the inner rotunda, the room funneled toward a sandstone staircase flanked by a series of imposing columns—a design boasting regal authority. The base of each stair had been carved to honor the legacy of every ruler who had ascended the Sun Throne, so that with every step upward, the stairs credited the progress attributed to each new monarch’s reign. And at the very top, an imperial set of brass doors led to the sitting monarch—the highest point of greatness in Rashii’s story.
The guards withdrew, filtering away to flank either side of the staircase. My eyes flicked back and forth between them, my lips parted with uncertainty. The stomp of boots against tile approached swiftly from behind.
“Zara,” a deep voice called out, rich like melted chocolate. A hand wrapped around my waist and spun me around, pulling me close.
“Oh. Rali.” I gasped in surprise. I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned my forearms upon his chest, unintentionally bracing against our proximity after the disaster of our last interaction. Rali didn’t seem to notice.
His jade eyes swept over me, liquefying with molten streaks of honeyed affection. “You are all right? The guards say there’s been an attack?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just shaken.” But my lips tightened into a thin line, biting back my frustration with him. Where were you when I was attacked? Busy protecting the city? That went well, didn’t it?
I brushed aside my annoyance. Certainly, he’d only been fulfilling his duties, as we all were called to do. I shouldn’t blame him for that. He cared deeply about his honor and responsibilities. “Have you heard from my Sisters? Did the scouts return?” I asked, steering the conversation in a more opportune direction.
Rali’s nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Not yet.” My stomach sank. The cords of his neck tensed beneath his clenched jaw. “I cannot believe—This should not have happened. There are too many warning signs. Too many concerns.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I thought it would be safe to celebrate the festivities, but...I need you to stay within the palace until the threats pass,” he insisted.
My gaze hardened. This was not what we had agreed on. “I don’t belong within these palace walls. I belong outside, fighting the threats. With my Sisters.” Snakes slithered in my stomach. Do you believe that, Zara? Do you truly think you can help them, or have you become the threat?
Rali’s expression darkened and, for a moment, I saw not his eyes, but the Rider’s hate-filled gaze tearing me to shreds. The damning accusations he tossed like daggers with his wrathful glare. A wave of unease washed over me. If the Rider had been right about the other winged men, if Prisha had sent them to hunt down Rue and me, staying within the city only endangered everyone else. I should tell Rali...I should warn him. But the words stuck in my throat, forming a lump that made it impossible to speak.
The people needed a Stitcher. They needed a protector to face Prisha and stop her before her army could breach the city walls. Someone more capable than me. But Halah chose me, I reminded myself. I sighed internally, but the faintest glimmer of warmth spread beneath my breastbone, reawakening my courage. Reminding me of my strength. But I shoved it away, burying it deeply within me to hide it from Rali. To hide it from myself.
I did not succeed in hiding it from Prisha. Star Thief. Sky Render. Open the skies, she screeched in the deranged pitch only she could muster. I snapped my lids shut and forced her from my mind. When I reopened my eyes, I glared up at Rali, writing determination across my features. “I need to see the Eldress. Now.”
“Zara, no. The most important thing you can do now is focus on earning Halah’s blessing at our union. Go back to your room and pray. You’ll be safe there. With everything going on, I do not want to worry about your safety, too.”
“Nobody will be safe anywhere if you don't listen to me, Rali. Take me to her.” I took his hand in mine and tried to urge him along. His hand snaked firmly around my wrist.
“I said go to your room and pray.”
I glared at him. “I don’t pray, Rali. You know that. I fight. You promised I could fight.”
“I never promised you could fight with me, Zara. You are meant to listen.”
My face fell, mouth gaping, brows drawn together in disgust. This was not the man I’d imagined him to be—the man he’d painted in the pretty curls of his letters and lofty words. But my reaction seemed to upset him, and he sighed wearily and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Zara. I am stressed. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It’s just...not safe. Not until there’s a new Stitcher.” He paused, biting his lip in consideration. “Have you heard anything yet? About a new Stitcher? Did your elder Sisters mention anything before Ja' Rilaht?” An eagerness unveiled itself in his voice.
“Only the Eldress can stitch the skies, Rali,” I hedged. “If you want a Stitcher, take me to her. Let me see if I can convince her to wake again. Please.”
He kissed my hand. “Later. I promise.” He paused, nodding toward the staircase. “The king wishes to see you. You shouldn’t keep him waiting. I’ll check on the Eldress and see if she’s ready for visitors.”
I inhaled deeply, then turned my head to the stairs, swallowing in a moment of hesitation. Rali did not miss the way my shoulders tensed. “You are not in trouble. He only wishes to meet you. It is customary.”
“It’s not that, it’s...” My eyes landed on the doors at the top of the grand staircase. So solid and...closed.
“Can the windows be opened?” Proper Daughter or not, the access to earth and air made me feel safe. Walls and enclosed spaces only served to make me feel trapped. And powerless.
Rali blinked at me. “In the throne room? Yes, of course.” He nodded to the guards lining the stairway, and a trio immediately departed to follow his silent command.
The throne room was a place of paradox. As soon as I stepped foot in it, my body stiffened, both overwhelmed by the unending stretch of carpet leading to the Sun Throne and simultaneously conflicted by a sense of claustrophobia. The walls arched over me on either side, and though the windows had been opened, walking through the room made me feel as though I were wading through the jaws of a hungry beast. My eyes shot warily to the ceiling, holding the coffered framework in my untrusting gaze. No stars above to guide me, to shimmer and whisper their encouragement. No sun to shine a light upon my path.
Subtly, I probed the room for Halah’s tendrils of energy. To the king, the ribbons of power remained invisible, but for me, they flowed about like old friends. When I reached for them, they wriggled just beyond my grasp, avoiding me. I frowned.
“The room will not swallow you, Daughter of Halah. Come in.”
King Onros’s voice was melodious and deep, filled with years of wisdom and an unwavering assurance that immediately set me at ease. I approached the throne, my steps padding quietly along the carpeted walkway. When I stood at the base of the throne, I crossed a clenched fist over my heart and kneeled.
“Do not kneel, Zara. We are equals in the eyes of Halah.” He fell silent for a moment. “You do not need to worry…at least not about me. I do not mean you any harm.”
Standing, I met his kind gaze with a puzzled scrunch of my brow. “Are there others who do?”
He laughed a deep, musical guffaw. “You are a Daughter of Halah. Your list of enemies rivals perhaps even mine in length, and mine has grown quite long as of late. If I’m to believe my advisors.” He leaned back against the Sun Throne, carved with etchings of daybreak that rose above his white hair like a crown, and he exuded a comfortable sense of power and certainty.
“Do you?” I asked, unable to stop myself from wondering. “Believe them, I mean? I’ve heard the rumors about Khazdra.” What possessed me to ask the king such a forward question, I couldn’t fathom, but I was frustrated by the limited information and sense of secrecy I’d endured since I’d arrived in Rashii.
“Bah,” he objected with a wave of his hand. “Khazdra is the least of my concerns. The advisors worry too much, if you ask me. They just need a hobby. Like me.” His skin folded into innumerable wrinkles, and his color appeared dull, lackluster, like unpolished bronze, but the red flush of his cheeks and the glint in his eyes gave him life. He rose from his chair and offered his arm.
“Then you do not share the same worries?” I probed as I accepted his arm, wondering if the king might dispel the whispers of war that seeped through the city, tinting the very air with unease. If the king wasn’t concerned about the growing tensions with Khazdra, they must not truly be a threat as the guards had led me to believe. And if that were the case, perhaps the Daughters had been captured by Riders…I could certainly confirm their hatred of us.
“I find it hard to get too worked up about anything in my old age,” the king responded, interrupting my train of thought. “But most won’t bother to listen to an old fool like me. No worries. It matters not. The stars have a way of sorting these things out anyway…writing our fates for us. But that is not what I wished to discuss. I didn’t bring you here to bore you with political affairs or concern you with our troubles. You have enough to worry about.”
Right. Of course it would be inappropriate for him to discuss such matters with me. I shouldn’t have pried. “You asked to see me?” I asked, my voice small.
“Indeed. Have you ever seen a beehive, Daughter of Halah?” He led me to a hutch beneath the open windows, and a buzzing sound filled the room when he opened the doors. I flinched, fearing an attack, then marveled at the glass chamber he’d housed them in. “My observation hive,” he explained, nodding to the bees. “I find solace in their constant rumbling. They do not blab on about politics or problems. There are no princesses to challenge the queen…they merely buzz about their business, serving their sovereign with unwavering devotion. I have dozens of hives around the palace grounds, but I like to keep one nearby. Sometimes, just watching them is enough to sort through the chaos of my mind.” Their bodies writhed and twisted beneath the glass, moving through the geometric design of the honeycomb, each completing whatever duty the stars had assigned. The king tinkered with glass jars on the bottom shelf and passed me a miniature spoon for tasting. “My newest variety. These bees have fed mostly from tinoya blossoms…the nectar gives the honey subtle notes of fruit and a light, fragrant profile. Try it.”
I accepted the spoon, tasting the faintly pink honey as the king waited patiently for my thoughts. It did taste like tinoya, but sweeter, and the flavor brought me to the moment Rue had opened the fruit for me in the desert. I swallowed. “It’s good,” I responded, shoving the thoughts of Rue away. The king grunted at my lacking response and opened a new jar.
“I wished to talk to you about the attack at the ceremonial procession this afternoon,” he said, passing another spoon to me.
I responded with a timid nod and tasted the second spoonful of honey. This one burst with a complex layer of spice, warming my tongue. “Cinnamon?” I asked.
“Fireblossom,” the king corrected, seemingly annoyed by the amateur nature of my palate. “Fireblossom nectar gives the honey spiced notes, similar to cinnamon, but more robust.” He replaced the lid. “I’m glad to see you escaped unharmed. My guards said they found you on the other side of the city, far away from the processional path.”
I put the tasting spoon on the ledge of the hutch. “I was led to safety and discovered by your dutiful guards after the threat had passed.”
He hummed, studying me carefully as he considered his next words. “They also informed me of a strange phenomenon. A...light of some sort? Do you know anything about this? I must admit, the ways of Daughters are somewhat foreign to me.”
Venom and hell. My eyes flicked to the window behind the hutch. “I’m afraid I don’t. What kind of a light?” I asked calmly, with an innocuous note of intrigue coloring my tone.
He regarded me carefully. “They said it seemed to come...from you. If the Prophecy of Dusk and Dawn has come to light, I should like to know. That will realign the stars for us all.”
I smiled and shook my head, laughing slightly as I instinctually took a step backward. “It was a mere trick of the sun, perhaps? Everything happened so quickly. It was difficult for anyone to make sense of what was happening. I’m just thankful I got away.”
“Of course,” the king conceded with his words, but not his expression. “Well, we will be certain to tighten security tomorrow. Halah knows we can spare no more Daughters. I will make sure you are well protected.”
“I appreciate your concern and protection. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Daughter of Halah?” he asked before closing the hutch.
I froze, paralyzed by a moment of indecision, wondering if I should mention it at all.
“Yes,” I began tentatively. “There is one thing. I’d like to see the Eldress.”
“She is under the prince’s care. I will speak to him and see if you may be brought to her.”
My disappointment unveiled itself with a frown.
“I am sorry, Daughter of Halah. She must be safeguarded until a new Stitcher is named. You know how important she is to us all. We wait for the prophecy to come to light, but I fear she may be our last hope. Go, get ready for the blessing of your union. We all look forward to that day.”
Well, almost all of us. Everyone except the bride.
