Page 34 of Tamhas

“The first thing you have to understand before I tell you the history is that we’re much older than we appear,” I began.

“I already know that.”

My eyebrows arched upward. “You do? Did one of them tell you?”

“No, but it makes sense. You have a sorta old-fashioned way of talking sometimes. I always thought it was sort of nice, somebody who uses proper English. Not like everybody else I know.”

“Ah, I see. But you don’t know just how much older I am than my appearance?”

“No. Should I guess?”

“I highly doubt you’d ever come up with the correct answer,” I replied, unable to keep a grin from touching my lips. “Would you believe it if I told you I’m more than a thousand years old?”

Her mouth snapped shut. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her hands gripped the mattress as they’d gripped the cell bars—tight enough that it appeared to hurt.

“Are you all right? Do you need water?”

She shook her head, breathing rapidly. “No. I’m okay.”

“You’re certain.”

She nodded.

“All right, then. We’re all of roughly the same age, my kin and myself. Our clan has lived beneath this mountain for longer than I’ve been alive. Protecting a treasure which exists deep beneath our feet, one which I’ve never seen. Protecting each other, too, and the future of our clan. Keeping ourselves out of sight of humans.”

I leaned against the bars, the spell of my memories overtaking me for a moment, and I stared at the wall over her head. “The Blood Moon Priestesses were our protectors throughout a good part of my life. They enchanted the woods surrounding the mountain, for example. Humans who ventured into the woods became hopelessly lost before they can reach us.”

“I was almost lost,” she whispered. “I wanted to give up, I was so sure I’d never find the mountain.”

“So, the enchantment is still in place. But you would, naturally, be able to overcome it. Because of who—what—you are.”

She was staring at the bars, lost in thoughts of her own. “I guess that’s true.”

“Have you always been exceptionally gifted at fighting?” I asked.

“Sure. When I was a kid, I used to get into fights all the time in my foster homes. Notice the pluralization," she snickered. “Needless to say, I got bounced around a lot because of that.”

“You were angry.”

“And I was a damned good fighter. I wouldn’t back down, even against the boys. Now, when I’m in training, I spar with men. If I can beat a man, even when we’re not totally serious about it, I can beat even the strongest woman.”

“Undefeated.”

“Of course.” She smiled.

“And when you work as an investigator or when you’re tracking people. You’re very good at that, too. You know how to find people even when those around you are without the first clue. You understand the people you’re hired to find. You know why they move as they do, why they think as they do. It’s almost too easy sometimes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s who you are, Keira.” I went to her, squatting before her, so we were nearly at eye level. “You are unique. You possess skills and powers others can only dream of. It’s simply part of you, as much as the color of your hair or eyes.”

“So, I’m a—one of those—a Blood Moon Priestess. For real.” She chewed her bottom lip, which shouldn’t have inflamed me given the circumstances but certainly did.

I swallowed, reminding myself of the stakes at hand. “It would appear so. Your mother was likely descended from them, and your grandmother. I’m sorry that you had to learn about it this way.” I wondered if she’d ever have found out if it wasn’t in this manner.

“To think, I always wanted to know where I came from.” Her head fell forward, hanging between her shoulders. “Now I know.”

I couldn’t help myself. Not anymore, not when she was aching so deeply. I took her shoulders in my hands—they were shaking with the onset of her tears—and lifted them just enough to prompt her to raise her eyes.

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