Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

2. He Helps Me Leave

"Look, Kozima." I pointed at the Divines and the Bhutas on the temple walls, the lemon trees and the hummingbirds. Everything was basked in the dawn's glow, pretty and peaceful. "I'm a fly in this holy ointment. It would be for the best for everyone if I go. Then you wouldn't have to explain to the Head Priestess who gave you a black eye either."

He stepped back and clutched his cheek instead of his side, as if I had hit him already.

I sighed. "Calm down, idiot. I'd never lower myself to hitting a man, particularly a pretty one like you."

He blinked, fluffy eyelashes asking for a caress. In the strengthening sunlight I could see fuzz above his upper lip as well as beads of perspiration. Maybe he was already shaving? Then he came closer to the marriageable age than I had realized. It happened so fast; they were boys one day, husbands—the next. But if he was, why hide it? Men shouldn't care about anything, but growing in the shadow, until blossoming overnight like those lemon trees.

Another sigh escaped my chest. A woman needed time to come into her own, to grow in wisdom and wealth before she could choose and support her husbands. A good fortune came before the want of marriage.

"I..." Kozima winced and sank his fingers into his curls. "Ismar, I'll give you a boost if you tell me where you're going."

I gave him an appraising look. He was tall, if slender.

"And... and I won't tell on you."

I scoffed. "You better not, if you value your good looks."

He backed away a step. "But you said--"

I sighed. I know what I said, that I'd never hit a man. And the sundial didn't stop for us to have this pointless chit-chat. "I'm leaving to sign up with the Deadhead Company."

There it was, the secret desire I had never spoken about to anyone. Now that I had, I wanted to talk to someone, even if it was... Kozima.

"I see their mercenaries every time it's my turn to take the temple's wine to the seaport. It's my destiny."

Kozima gasped, as if I had told him I'd climb the tallest cedar, jump on a cloud and go visit the Divines. Then the words poured out of his mouth in a torrent. "Ismar, you can't! You aren't highborn or trained with arms, and your mother is dead. You don't have aunts or sisters. You must become a priestess... you will be a Head Priestess one day, I know it. I know it."

An invisible fire flashed my innards. I'd been hearing the same nonsense since the day I was born.

You must become a priestess, Ismar.

You don't have anyone but the Divines to look out for you, Ismar.

Temple is your life, Ismar.

So what if I didn't have an aunt or a mother or an evil Bhuta to vouch for me?

I had myself, and I didn't intend to miss my chance because of an idiot boy who was silent for years, but now won't shut up?

"I am trained, and it's a stupid rule! I'll join the Deadheads and petition for my inheritance when I'm twenty-one. The temple can't refuse giving it back to me then. And if they don't... Well, I'll be rich and famous anyway."

I glimpsed even, pearl-white teeth as Kozima chewed his lip. It was probably his best feature, so he should smile more often instead of looking so overwhelmed by doubts.

"And then... then you'll look for a man to marry? You wouldn't stay single, Ismar?"

"What kind of a question is that? Why wouldn't a woman in possession of a good fortune want to marry? Now shut up and give me a boost or get lost."

More lip chewing... then, infuriatingly slow, Kozima clasped his hands for me to step on, but squinted in doubt again.

"Gala's mercy, what now?"

"You are trained with a sword? How, Ismar?"

I planted my foot in the cradle of his fingers. His curls, his smooth cheek, maybe even his eyelashes brushed my ankle and whoosh! I was to the section of the wall where the sandstone weathered enough to make holds for toes and fingers, just below the dancing Divines and Bhutas. The statues themselves were even easier to climb.

On top of the wall, the dawn wind from the Serene Gulf brushed my face, tugged at my hair.

I could have left then, without dignifying Kozima's squawking with an answer, but incredulity in his voice cut me to the quick. I looked down into his upturned face from my awesome perch.

The way he looked at me... my heart bounced. I might as well have been Divine Mythra soaring on the six eagle wings, that's how he looked at me.

"I've studied swordplay for months, Kozima. And I'm a natural."

His wide brows knitted together over the widened eyes.

"By Gala's mourning eyes, is that why you became a library rat all of a sudden and volunteered for the extra work at the vineyards? Oh, Ismar, please, come back... you will get hurt... please, come down. Come back!"

I didn't care if he sat all day weeping by the temple wall, but he knew a great deal about me. I plucked a pea-sized morsel of cement from the grove between the stone blocks and tossed it. It clicked against the tile right between his feet.

"Hey, crybaby. How do you know all that about me? How did you see me this morning? Are you spying on me?"

"No!" His throat-pebble bobbed nervously. "No! I swear!"

I picked a bigger piece of cement. "Not good enough."

"I... I had trouble sleeping, and it bothers the other boys in the dorm if I pray or read instead. The Mistress of Novices lets me sleep on the library roof till my moods subside."

That explained it. The library stood at the highest point of the temple grounds—you could see the crescent of the Mother-of-Pearl Gulf and the Zora Mountains from its roof, the blue and the bluer. And an insomniac would also see everyone's comings and goings. I wished I had known Kozima slept there, but it didn't matter now.

"Gala's blessing be on you, Kozima."

The last thing I saw, before taking the leap into the canal circling the walls of the Temple, were his astonished eyes. They were the exact same color as the terracotta tiles of the courtyard.