Page 29 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
Therat did not reply. With a grunt, he rolled out of the bed and lumbered to a nearby basin. The cool water dribbled through parched lips still tinged with the taste of bile.
Adon continued. “I wish I could say you have been unlucky in life, Therat. But you never learned to reign in your anger and grief. Now look what it gets you! I am trying to help, desperately. I want you to enjoy life, you do not need to punish yourself forever. You must let go of the past. It was almosteighteenyears ago.”
Rage bubbled up at the mention of the night that stole his childhood. Therat swallowed, forcing the hard lump in his throat down before speaking as calmly as he could.
“It’s easy for you to let go. I lost everything. But I would do it again. For you.” He turned and took a step toward Adon, catching the man’s soft hands in his thick with calluses. “But I cannot forget. I will not stop until I have answers, even if I could! Someone somewhere gave the order and stole our parents from us, took their music, and left us with nothing to bury. Nothing makes sense, but I must find out why. Even if it kills me, Adon. I will never rid myself of these memories, but maybe I can ease the pain.”
“You talk as if I didn’t become an orphan too,” Adon spat back, a fire rising in his eyes Therat had not seen before. “You always do this to me, you always guilt me about trying to still enjoy life, even if you do not realize it. Your mind is a mess, and I’m trying to help fix it, but sometimes I wonder if you are beyond help. Try to see my side of it, Therat.” Adon huffed ashe spun around and walked out of the room, leaving Therat to absorb the sting of his words in silence.
The anger and jealousy of his brother’s life became harder to bear with each passing day. Why did he ever return to the city? Because he had an insanity-induced vision of his mother? Laughable to think Therat could ever do something good in his life.
Yet, he found it impossible to leave. Something kept him here, an invisible leash chaining him, but who held the other end, he did not know. A shudder ran down Therat’s spine at the thought of some kind ofdestinylaid out before him. His life was meaningless, antithetical to the idea of gods and higher callings.
Therat stretched his broad muscular frame before wrapping a gray shawl over his head and shoulders. The day warmed fast, sweat collecting on his chest, leaving the thought of a tunic unbearable. The jagged white scar over his heart ached as his fingers brushed against it. He adjusted the shawl to cover the shame forever etched into his skin, then secured the fabric with a simple crescent moon pin. Seeing his scar never got easier, despite what Adon told him.
After pulling on a pair of loose black silk pants—a gift from his coming of age a few years before—Therat strode to a cracked mirror in the corner of his shared bedroom, silver finish dulled with age. He did not like to look at himself often, finding it strange to see the echoes of his parents on a face always hollow and devoid of joy. He forced a smile, observing how one side pulled up higher than the other over a deep dimple. His mother’s smile. Though, hers were warm and full of life, a place of safety and love. His eyes drifted up to the thick mess of black curls tumbling down his forehead. A gift from his father. The only gift he had left now.
A pained look flashed across Therat’s face. He ground his teeth in response. The time for grief ended long ago; tears wouldnever serve him now. He forced himself to turn away before the past returned.
The sound of muffled voices from the main room of their small house drew his attention. Adon and his grandfather—bickering again? The old man was loath to see his grandson leave the desert; Therat could not say he blamed him, terrified of harm befalling his twin in the City of Books.
Shaking his head, Therat shuffled out of his room, feet dragging as if made of heavy stones. He entered the main room of the humble home he shared with his twin and grandfather. Adon sat at a table on the far end of the room, drumming his fingers on the painted glass top, face twisted with impatience. Next to him sat their grandfather, his hair gray and faded with age. The two men sat turned away from each other; whatever argument they had ended in a stand-off of silence.
“Did it happen again last night,neha? I heard you calling out for them.” Nazith set the parchment in his hands down, eyes full of concern.
“I… yes. But not all need to know,” Therat said, flickering his gaze over to Adon. He crossed the room and stood next to his grandfather, placing a light hand on his ruddy brown arm mottled with age spots.
“Can we leave already?” Adon asked, standing up and gesturing toward the large arched front door. If he heard anything the two said, he did not seem to care. Therat brushed aside his annoyance. This day was for his twin, not him. Surely he could handle one day around the woman.
“Adon is right, Papa. We should go. Ninann is surely waiting.”
Adon raised an eyebrow at his twin but didn’t question the change of heart. The old man threw up his hands in exasperation as the twins stepped outside.
The dry air hit Therat in the face with a rush of hot wind; a bead of sweat rolled down his temple in response. The arid desert air tore at his lungs with each labored breath. He pulled the shawl down from his head across his mouth and nose, trying to retain what little moisture he could within the thin woven cotton. Once his eyes adjusted to the bright sun, he scanned the small clearing in the oasis. Slow and methodical, Therat’s gaze swept across each house. After a moment, he held a hand out and motioned for Adon to walk.
“Gods, can we go? We’re twenty-three, not eight,” Adon threw out sarcastically.
Therat’s nose flared, anger creeping back.
“Did you ever think I need to do it, Adon? I cannot lose another of my family. I will not! I made a promise to myself a long time ago.” Therat pulled his brother into a hug. “We need each other, Adon. And I will try to accept Ninann, but do not lose yourself to her. Please, please. I cannot bear the thought…” He swallowed, focusing his gaze on a small palm tree in the distance instead. After a moment, he pushed Adon away, striding forward as he fought down the rising emotions in his chest.
“You will never stop surprising me,” Adon said softly.
The two walked in silence along a small path winding through a copse of palms and fig trees. After nearly twenty minutes, the sound of voices broke through the tree line with more frequency. The path curved before opening into the Market. Dozens of merchants shouted, bargaining with customers and trying to steal sales from each other. A troupe of musicians gathered under the shade of the trees, another atop the flat roof of a jeweler close by. Their music filled the gaps in between words—what little existed among the din of voices.
The sudden outburst of activity crashed down on Therat. The throngs of people reminded him of his stark loneliness, desperately clinging to his brother like a lost child. Panic settledinto his stomach, the sensation of needing to vomit swelling in waves. Adon kept walking into the square before turning back toward Therat, beckoning for him to follow. He smiled, crinkling the skin around his eyes. The hole in Therat’s stomach melted. He smiled back, forcing the nugget of happiness his heart contained to the front of his mind.
The two brothers picked their way through the bustling Market, Adon’s black head of long curls leading their way through the sea of colors. Brilliant blues, deep reds, purples, and golden yellows; a blur of color among the wave of people. A confusing mix of aromas filled the air, delicate and sweet perfumes and lotions clashing with bitter tonics and acrid fumes from the smithing kilns. They pushed through to the Fountain of Maidens, a crowd gathered around the far end.
A woman with silvery blue hair piled on her head in coils stood on a platform opposite the fountain, a sheer green veil pinned to her head billowing in the breeze. The twins paused and turned to look at the woman. Dozens gathered with them as excited murmurs rippled through the growing crowd.
Therat studied the woman’s soft curves accentuated by the cutouts and high leg slits in her pale blue dress. The way her smooth golden-brown skin darkened near the inner folds of her thighs. How the light cast a trick around the woman’s hair, illuminating it like a halo. He wondered what it would be like feel desire, even unwavering love if they wereliraes, instead of nothing at all.
A child giggled in the crowd near Therat. He winced at the sound.
“Come, brother,” he said, the irritation oozing from his words. “I thoughtIwas delaying us, remember?”
Therat turned away from the waveweaver. The brothers pushed through the crowd, back toward the now emptier—yet still plenty busy—market stalls. A merchant began to approachTherat, but a glance with his cold gray eyes sent them scurrying back.
