Page 69 of Joy Guardian

Raimus whistled, shaking his head. “Going after those guys is suicide. Why would I do that?”

“For joy.” Gefred tossed away the snake bones and kicked the sand somberly.

Raimus turned to Malis. “Did you agree to this?”

She hugged herself, biting her lip. “You know what? I’m sick and tired of hearing Grandpa describe for the millionth time how he was allowed into the temple through a favor of some noble lord five hundred years ago and got to taste the Joy. I don’t know any lords who’d do it for me, but at least once in my life, I want to feel joy too.”

“Is joy really worth risking your life for?” Raimus wondered.

“According to Grandpa, it’s worth everything, even going to war.”

Gefred gestured my way. “The Joy Guardian here says we won’t have to fight them. It won’t be the same risk as going to war.”

“How is he going to take the woman away from them without a fight?”

“He’s a Joy Guardian. He knows some tricks, right?” Gefred gave me a questioning look.

“Nottricks,” I corrected. “But I do have a plan.”

“What kind of a plan?”

“Well, first of all, I’ll need your promises and then… Do you have any glass jars? Metal or clay ones would do too.”

Eighteen

CIANA

“Ciana,” a gentle voice called softly. “Wake up.”

I tried. I willed my eyes to open, but it didn’t happen. Awareness of my surroundings was slow to filter into my mind, and my body refused to obey. I hardly even felt my limbs. For a moment or two, I felt weightless—incorporeal—which made me wonder if I was already dead.

Maybe I no longer had a body at all?

“Try to drink some water,” the voice coaxed.

A few drops of lukewarm liquid dropped on my lips, causing a sting of pain. At least now I knew I had lips. And they must be cracked for them to sting from contact with water.

I couldn’t be dead then, could I?

Parting my chapped lips, I allowed the kind person to drop more water into my mouth.

“That’s good,” the woman praised my feeble efforts. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

I wasn’t sure if I shared her sentiment. My muscles hurt. A massive headache pounded inside my skull. And my stomach was in so much pain, it felt like a knife was cuttingthrough it.

“You must be hungry, but I have no idea when they’ll feed us next,” the woman said. “I saved some soup for you from our last dinner, since you couldn’t eat it then.”

Who was she?

How did she know my name?

And where the heck was I?

The rim of a cup or a bowl pressed to my lips, then a warm, fragrant liquid poured into my mouth. I drank it as fast as I could swallow. My stomach had long forgotten what having food felt like, making me acutely aware of every drop of the warm liquid landing in it now. Thankfully, the fuller I got, the less it hurt.

I drank so fast that I ran out of breath and gasped, jerking away from the bowl. Then I was finally able to open my eyes.

“How are you feeling?” A young woman crouched next to me, holding a clay soup bowl in one hand and supporting my head with the other.

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