Marai whipped the hat off as Aresti and Leif exited the cave.
Raife approached, his eyes softening. He, like Keshel, could read Marai’s defeated, slumped stance. “How long do you intend to stay?” he asked.
Marai shrugged.
“You can stay as long as you need,” Thora said. No one expected Marai to stay forever. They knew she couldn’t be held down anymore, jailed like a prisoner in the desolate desert. Not after she’d seen so much of the world outside of the Badlands.
Marai was tired. So, so tired. Her shoulders sagged further as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Raife and Thora exchanged glances wrought with worry.
“Come, you should lie down,” Thora said, tearing her eyes away from Raife, an ethereal warrior, bow and a quiver of arrows dangling from his back.
Keshel, at the other end of the room, sat on a rock with a book and his personal journal open in his lap, flipping through pages casually as if Marai’s arrival meant nothing.
Kadiatu looped her arm through Marai’s and lifted her to her feet. “You can sleep in my bed until we make one for you.”
“We’ll talk more when you’re rested,” came Keshel’s cool voice. A promise that the interrogation was far from over. He didn’t glance up from his book as Kadiatu led Marai to the bedroom, which was a small hollowed-out tunnel on the right.
Three cots had been erected next to a petite makeshift dresser made of red shale and wood from desert shrubbery. A lantern with a magical fae flame sat on top of the dresser. Kadiatu turned down the hemp blankets on one of the cots and fluffed up a thin pillow stuffed with feathers and grass. When they were little, Marai and Kadiatu had shared that cot. It was so strange to see them all as adults, to know how many years had passed and how much Marai had missed of their lives.
“Sleep,” said Kadiatu. “Come find us when you’re ready.” She left Marai alone in the tunnel, the soft scuff of her slippers disappearing.
Marai sat on the rickety cot. Exhaustion pulled at every muscle. Her heart ached, her mind whirled, but she shoved it all away.
Walls up, shields up, she told herself, the same chant she’d used throughout her life.
Slowly, pain shooting across her body, Marai lowered herself under the blankets, covering her head. She leaned into the pain. She deserved it. Marai let darkness take her as her weary soul settled down into sheets that smelled familiar and felt like sanctuary.
Chapter 2
Marai
“She’s clearly been through something harrowing.”
“How did she get here? She had no belongings. It takes days to cross that desert.”
“Does it matter? She’s here now, and she needs us.”
The voices were hushed. Marai opened her eyes from under the blankets and continued to listen to Thora and Raife’s conversation.
“Those injuries . . .” whispered Raife.
“Nothing more serious than a concussion, though, thank Lirr.” Thora sighed. “Being in that dungeon . . . she should’ve died.”
“Don’t press her. She’s still the same walled-up Marai.”
“You cannot blame me for being worried.”
“I don’t. I know how much you care,” Raife said, and Marai was surprised to hear the warmth in his tone. Not about her, but towards Thora. It reminded her of how Ruenen used to speak to her . . .
Marai slammed the door on those intrusive memories.
She didn’t want to get up. Every part of her yearned to stay covered in the blankets, to hide away from the world, and sleep forever. But Marai pulled the blankets from her head, startling Thora and Raife standing at the opening of the tunnel. They took a step apart, as if she’d caught them in a precarious position.
“How are you feeling?” Thora asked.
Marai’s muscles rebelled at every movement, but at least she felt less awful than before. “How long was I out?”
“Oh, hours. I was starting to worry that you’d miss dinner.”
Marai got to her feet, wincing. Raife made a move to come to her side, but she stalled him with a gloved hand. She shuffled out of the tunnel and into the main cavern, too tired to lift her feet from the floor. The others sat around the fire as a large bird roasted on a spit. It was a vulture, one of the few creatures that managed to survive in the desolate Badlands of Ehle. Cactus and legumes, usual desert fare for the fae, boiled in a pot at the edge of the fire. Marai’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since the previous evening.
Marai staggered forward and took a seat on a cushion next to Kadiatu. Six sets of eyes watched her every move. “You don’t have to stare at me.”
“We wouldn’t have to if you told us what you are doing here,” Leif said from across the fire. His green eyes narrowed as Marai’s annoyance bubbled. He’d always given her that superior, judgmental expression as children.
Keshel began to carve the roasted vulture. “Not while we’re eating.”
That quiet authority managed to stem the fights between Leif and Marai back when they were children. Keshel’s eyes flashed at them both, a warning not to cause trouble. Marai was happy to obey this time.
The fae handed Keshel their plates and he doled out dinner. He put a heftier portion on Marai’s. He must’ve heard her stomach growling, or maybe she simply looked that terrible. Leif shoved a piece of cactus in his mouth as he glared at Marai above the flames.
“Reports, please.” Keshel served himself last.
“Nothing to report on our end,” Raife said, indicating Leif and Aresti with his fork. “All calm in the territory.” Since they were children, they’d run daily patrols around the cave in shifts, searching for any signs of danger.
“The garden is doing well,” Kadiatu said, then leaned over to Marai. Her face lit up with pride. “I grew these cactuses and legumes, myself.”
Most of the part-fae in the room had regular elemental magic, save for Kadiatu. She had little faerie blood, so the magic in her veins was weakest, almost nonexistent. She always had a special way with plants and growing things, but Marai assumed it had more to do with her nurturing personality than magic. Even now, Kadiatu was covered in dirt, including a red smudge across her nose.
