Page 35 of Humans Don't Have Horns
“And how did that work out for you?” I say with derisiveness.
Daton chuckles at that. “You got me there.” I hate it when he smiles. All those creases around his eyes make me all supple inside. He needs to stop smiling.
As if he read my mind, the smile dies on his face. He buries his hands in his pockets. “I don’t deserve you coming here to save me.”
No shit. “Did I say I came here to save you? Or that I came to end the demichads?”
He nods. “Still, I want—”
But the last thing I need is for him to explain or apologize. So I cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t come here for you.”
“Right.” He looks a bit taken aback by my sharpness. Maybe it’s hurt in his eyes. Maybe it’s my imagination.
“So, how are you going to stop the demichads exactly?” asks a familiar voice.
I turn to find Emek looking at us both with her mouth in a smirk.
***
Emek takes me to a tent in her family’s circle. There are seven tents spread around the fire. Clothes hang out to dry on one side of the circle, and there is kitchenware on the other side. Several wooden logs surround the fire pit. Some Mongans sit on those logs, including one man holding a baby while talking to another man, and two women sitting together. Their eyes go wide as they notice us.
“Kala, help Lian settle in. She’ll stay in our circle for now,” Emek says to one of the women. Kala’s black hair is up in a bun. She wears black eyeliner, and her lips are painted blood red. The woman sitting beside her resembles her so much that I assume they are twins. The second woman has beautiful curly black hair that reaches her waist. As she stands up, I notice her wooden necklace and the Mongan dress she managed to turn into a flattering outfit.
“I’m Shana,” she says with a smile. “Oh, you are so pretty.” And to my shock, she twirls a strand of my hair with her fingers. “Kala, her hair is so soft,” Shana cries to her twin, and Emek smacks Shana’s hand away.
“For fuck’s sake. She’s our guest, not your doll, so behave yourself,” she mutters.
“Yes, Mother,” they both say at the same time. Mother? They lookthe same age as her. Maybe a few years younger but certainly not enough to be her children.
“You really can’t swear anymore, though, now that you’re the oracle,” Shana squeaks, and they both burst out laughing.
Emek snorts and rolls her eyes. But I swear there’s a smirk there for a second before she scolds them again.
“Have you seen Daton?” She dragged me away from him to show me the camp and apparently lost him in the process.
“Last seen avoiding a number of shameless women,” Shana says and giggles. Giggles! How old is she, for Goddess’s sake? I stiffen and can’t help the possessive anger that stirs in me. I can feel Emek’s eyes on me, one of her eyebrows rising. Damn it. The woman is perceptive.
Emek sighs, “And where is your father?”
“Last seen with two bottles of bree,” Kala drawls.
“For fuck’s sake,” Emek grunts in frustration and walks away without another word.
“Come, Lian. You can take Anasosh’s tent. She just passed her maturity test and got a tent with all the singles,” Kala says and leads me inside a tent similar to the one I stayed in on my last visit to the swamps. If you can call being a captive a visit. Shana joins us in the tent with a bucket of water.
“Oh, a bath would be great, thank you,” I say to her.
But they glance at each other and shake their heads. “Fresh water is scarce in the swamps, but you can wash your face, armpits, and privates,” Kala explains and hands me a clean cloth. Heat rises to my cheeks. I never seem to manage to avoid the privileged princess act in the swamps.
“How often do you bathe in Modos?” Shana asks.
“Once every three days mostly. But in Renya, they bathe every day. They have water coming out of the wall. No need to go to the waterhole,” I explain.
“Water out of the wall. Imagine that!” Shana exclaims.
“A bath every day, what a dream,” Kala groans. “Well, we’ll find you some clean clothes”, Kala says, gesturing with a frown at myAldonian army uniform. “I can do your makeup if you want. Niska brought new stuff for us from—”
“Kala, the baby is hungry,” a man’s voice calls outside the tent.
