The Mayaware's reign has to end.
In a world of demonic beings with a hunger for human flesh, and thirst for blood, Hesi Renen knows it well. When her siblings are taken to the harvesting farms, she must do everything she can to get them out, even if...
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Hesi drew the blanket around her shoulders tighter. The darkness in Kharta's basement was a grim reminder of what she had just lived through, of a fate she managed to narrowly avoid. She drew her knees to her chest, her bare feet had long ago been caked with mud and bits of sand. Her memories of being dragged from the royal palace to this room were hazy, as if she wasn't there when it happened. For the next hour, she had done nothing but sit on the corner.
Kharta had long given up trying to talk to her, and had instead retreated to the one thing he knew best—medicine. Perhaps it's the trace of his Djarean roots—he had briefly mentioned he had witnessed the beginning of the Great Shadow—but the steward had enough skill to rival the stingiest traveling apothecaries from Ser-Ib.
A steaming cup edged from her periphery. She raised her chin from her knees to trace the hand connected to it. Up an arm. And finally, to a face. Kharta smiled at her, something he hasn't done once since they met in the cloak of night in the royal palace. Ever since she had drank poison and boiled her guts, and ever since he admitted who he saw her as, he had been doing it more often.
What did that mean?
"Not in the mood," Hesi averted her eyes and studied the dust carpeting the floor instead. Wasn't Kharta fond of cleaning? Then again, who in their right minds would obssess over smooth floors when he's literally in the basement, where the whole desert could fall on him at any second? "The last thing on my mind right now is tea."
Kharta set the cup down inches from her toes. The steam curling from it had never looked so inviting until that moment. But she had already refused. It'd look moronic to go back on her word like that. "The High Prince, then?" he sank next to her and pressed his back against the wall.
"How did you know when to come?" She didn't bother looking at him. Her fingers picked at the fraying ends of the blanket around her shoulders.
"Ever since Mensa's accident, I took it upon myself to wait outside every time the brides go inside," he answered.
Hesi raised an eyebrow. "The High King approved of that?"
His shadow, reflected by the faint moon and torchlight, shrugged. "He trusts me to do the right thing for the benefit of his kingdom," he said. "I've worked my hands for the last few years to get to that point. It's high time I start reaping the benefits."
"You sure know how to bide your time, Noble Steward," she said with a grin. With her head turned away, she doubted he saw it.
A sigh bled off Kharta followed by a silent sip. Ah, right. They're having tea. She chewed on her lip and scratched a nail against the stone floor. Nevermind if small particles seeped to her nailbeds. There's always water to wash them off later. "I've got a target on my back now," she said aloud, her thoughts raging with glee out of her mouth. That's why she was quiet all this time. "I knew about the prince and there's no way I'm going to start drinking that amnesiac."
