Page 36 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“Therat. Though truth be told, that’s about as much as I know. He is quiet, keeps to himself. I can never tell if he hates only me or everyone. He is very protective of Adon since their parents died, changed a lot, Adon said. I wouldn’t bother trying to be friends with him, honestly.”
“Therat.” Apattar rolled his name over her tongue, letting the sounds sink in.
As if called by his whispered name, Therat turned and began walking toward the shaded table. Adon reached it first, monkey in hand. Thinner than his brother but just as tall, Adon was a breathtaking sight in his rich vermilion and pale green robes. The warm orange-red highlighted the golden undertones of hisdeep brown skin, lighting him up as if he was a Son of Myrniar himself. He reminded Apattar of royalty past, when the fair sons and daughters of the gods walked under their golden light.
“Lady Ninann, Lady Apattar. I wish I had some better reason to be late today. But late is better than never, I hope.” Adon spoke with a clear and even voice, each word formed with precise care. “Your first gift, my sweet little dove.” He took Ninann’s plump hand in his and gave it a gentle kiss.
My sweet little dove.
The words slapped Apattar across the face. A crack ran across her heart. Little Dove had beenhername for Ninann. The little white dove and the black dove, hearts intertwined but forever destined to live apart in the world. Apattar could not tell which cut deeper—Ninann never telling Adon to stop, or that sheblushedwhen he kissed her hand.
This was no mere friendship. Another crack snaked across Apattar’s heart. How long had Ninann loved the man? Were theyliraes?The woman had always been slow to see the truth around her.
Whatever piece of Apattar hoping to stay forever by her sister’s side vanished. The gods ripped them apart long ago, Ninann never hers to claim. Their harmonics shifted a little more and a small piece of Apattar’s love for Ninann slipped through her cracked heart into the endless void.
Apattar blinked and set her cold gaze on the monkey crawling over her twin’s arms. A shower of giggles erupted from the woman. In the corner of her eye, Apattar saw Therat clench his jaw before clearing his throat. Ninann and Adon turned toward him, a look of surprise on the young woman’s face.
“Oh, Therat! You startled me, I’m sorry!”
Apattar let the words fade. She turned to Therat and observed the way his eyes bore into Ninann, how the veins in hisneck bulged ever so slightly as she spoke. She called out to him, seeking entry into the dark whirlpool drowning the man.
Apattar’s song slipped in between the cracks with ease, Therat’s focus too far gone to notice the intrusion. Tendrils of Shadow-weave wormed their way into Therat’s thoughts, eroding the wall he had so carefully constructed. Then it came tumbling down, something in the world outside igniting craven passions. A vision of Apattar’s sister surged forth and lashed out at the woman. Ninann lay crumpled at Therat’s feet, golden chains twisted around her fat neck, brown lips frozen in a contorted scream as lifeless eyes stared up at nothing.
Apattar expected to feel anger, rage, a sense of protection. Anything, except nothing at all. The shock of hearing Adon call Ninann his sweet little dove broke the last of Apattar’s fragile heart. A waking dream, the veneer of the last month peeled away to reveal what it truly was: a long goodbye to a life never hers to claim. She could not force fate; Apattar realized this now. Sun and Shadow could not live together in harmony.
A soft touch pulled Apattar back to the desert.
“This is mysoerl.She is back from her visits to… where was it again, sister?”
Apattar took a drink from her glass before replying, her voice still strained from her time spent in the smoky lands of Andeshar.
“Oh, many places. I was gone for, hmm, about a year, I think, right, Inann? I followed my feet and they never stopped for long. Past the western dunes and through the Sea of Grass and to the banks of the Andesiri River. I never saw them, but I often heard the soft music of the wandering Ithraviri. It is hard to deny the presence of the gods in such a strange land of amber-green grass. You would love it, Adon.”
Adon heartily agreed, launching into an excited discussion about the Goddess Ithraviél and the Music she taught to her people.
Apattar looked up, aware of Therat observing her with a strange intensity. Curiosity took hold as Adon’s chatter faded. Surely she, of all people, did not arouse desire in the man. Ninann’s beauty far outshone the scarred and rail-thin woman. Apattar never felt the eyes of another looking at her with such hunger. A ribbon of hot anticipation wrapped itself around her heart. She found herself smiling at the man with gray eyes that shone like the moon.
Therat tensed as if on reflex before a strained smile flashed across his lips. He turned his gaze upward. Apattar saw a spark of recognition behind those lifeless eyes. Did he feel it too, their soulsongs intertwining, pushing the two together?
The thought made her stomach lurch. Some part of her soul, hidden from even herself, begged to embrace the man. But it was a drop in the ocean of Apattar’s rising fury at the man she wished never existed, who pulled so many emotions she never wished to feel to the surface of her cracked heart.
Why did he have to see her in the Market on her first day of true freedom, or again in the darkness when she fled from her father’s cruelty? Why did he have to chase after her, to act like he cared? She needed to hate him, she told herself. Use him for Laisha’s purposes, kill him, or enslave him if she must. It was the only way.
Apattar stared deep into his stormy gray eyes, trying to uncover anything she could. Somehow, words kept falling from her lips, but she could only think of Therat. Despite the bright sun above, shadows leapt and danced around the black-haired man. Hungry, yearning, corrupting. They sank into his flesh, and a flush raced across the man’s body, almost imperceptible under his dark skin.
Focusing on the weaves of Therat’s mind, Apattar probed again for another entrance into his thoughts. White hot pain tore through his mind, followed by a swelling pressure of delicious pleasure verging on delirium. It threatened to erase the man. Apattar took the chance to walk through Therat’s memories, trying to find the heart of his darkness.
A vast wasteland devoid of happiness or joy awaited Apattar.
Since their parents died, he changed a lot.
Ninann’s words echoed in the emptiness. Whatever happened the night of his parents’ death, it indeed left him broken. What intense love must the boy have once had to leave him this empty without it? Apattar’s fury eased, replaced not with pity, but rather understanding.
I do not want you, do not want to save you. You are a tool, that is all you can be! But who else could understand my empty heart?
I am so sorry, Therat.
Apattar’s words floated through the decay. A glimmer of life sparked in response. His name echoed in Therat’s mind, heart beating faster each time. Apattar knew the feeling all too well. How a stranger's first touches of selfless kindness felt so good she could die right there and be forever content. What would happen if she reached over and touched Therat? Or pulled him in as she embraced his broken body, swallowing the pain into the cool void she harbored inside? His thoughts flickered across her mind as if in reply.
