The Stormcrow Cycle [Slow-burn Slice-of-Life Tragic Fantasy Romance]

Chapter Forty: Flowers for the Dead

The city was waking up in earnest now. Ba'an walked as closely as she dared to Lukios in public, knowing by how he had fallen silent that he was thinking of Rekos. She slipped her hand in his, and he looked down at her briefly with a small smile, squeezing her fingers.

The temple was made of stone—at least on the outside.

"Most buildings in Kyros are wood inside," Lukios explained. "This place was actually a fort first—I guess that's the barracks now—and the camp around it became a town, then a city once the outer walls went up. That's why this place is so chaotic. I don't think there's another city quite like Kyros in the entire empire, to be honest. Most of them are all planned out so the districts are all in their proper places, but here?" He shook his head. "Anywhere and everywhere. Well, Heliopolis is a bit like that too—the old quarter is extra confusing." He hadn't let go of her hand and was now rubbing his thumb over her skin where it lay. "Honestly, I think I've only been here maybe twice before? It was for our incursion into...well, into the desert." He grimaced. "Guess you know about those."

"I do." Ba'an did not press him on this, just as she had not pressed him about his role in the war. She did not wish to know; knowing came with judgement, and Ba'an...

Ba'an was no longer K'Avaari, never mind a witch, so what did it matter? It did not.

And surely he would have said something during the long desert nights if there was something important? Lukios could scarcely keep still or quiet or five minutes at a time; the idea of him keeping anything serious to himself struck her as somewhat absurd.

Surely not. The only person here with something important to share was Ba'an, and she would speak to him of it soon enough—once Eirenne was safe. She would tell him then, and...

That would be that.

There were gardens around the temple, a little fence of greenery and flowing water with stone benches, of all things. A little garden of peace, perhaps, amidst the bustle.

Naturally, they were ringed by merchants. They were like cockroaches: everywhere and anywhere, even places of worship.

They paused at the white cobbled road that led into the courtyard proper. Even inside there were stalls, though they looked expensive and orderly. Ba'an could see people lining up to buy last-minute sacrifices or incense. Some even seemed to be buying jugs of...oil, was it?...and other supplies.

Ba'an focused, listening for souls. There were many, though they did not sound gifted; even so, she felt wary, knowing that Nikias had not felt all that special until suddenly, he had noticed.

"Ba'an?" Lukios was looking down at her. "Do you think...you can come up with me? Or..."

"If you wish." Perhaps all would be well.

...But perhaps it would not. Ba'an frowned.

"Um..." Lukios' brows furrowed. "Something wrong?"

"No."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, Ba'an. I mean, no one really likes temples. We just go because we have to. Twice a year at least. Or we get fined."

"What?" Now that sounded truly absurd.

"Yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes. "It's a long, stupid story. I'll tell you later. But anyway, the priests give you receipts and you show 'em to the tax collector when he comes around. It's beyond stupid."

"But what if you lose your receipts?"

"Fined."

"But..."