Page 58 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“I’d wager you aren’t missing out on anything actually good. My grandfather’s cooking, now there is food worth eating. Even as a little boy I remember Mama asking him to make meals. She would sit and tell us stories while we helped Papa cook.” The words slipped out before Therat realized what he was saying. Hisheart bucked at the thought of his mother, and a shadow passed over his face.
“You loved her very much,” Mireithren murmured. She slid a hand across the table and stroked the back of his forearm.
“Yes. More than she ever knew.”
“I… I’m so sorry. It doesn’t feel like enough to say, but I am.”
Therat took her hand, still tracing fingernails up and down his arm. He squeezed it before letting go, unable to find his voice. The words that sounded empty and meaningless from others were so sweet from Mireithren’s lips.
“We don’t have to talk about the past,” Mireithren said, breaking the silence. “Either of us. Who cares about a little mystery?”
“Easy for you to say when you can read my thoughts.”
“Only the ones about me, and judging by your thoughts, you’re obsessed,” she teased.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Little Siren,” he said with a smile.
The cloud of sorrow eased with their playful exchange. Therat stood, his legs groaning in protest from having sat for too long.
“Do you need anything else here? I don’t know how much longer I can stand this place.”
Mireithren shook her head, mouth full with the last bite ofkunishfa.
“We’ll wish for something, I am sure, but for now I can think of nothing else. I planned to stay the night here, though.” Her words offered an invitation, unspoken desire flashing across Mireithren’s brown eyes flecked with gold. “But we can leave if you wish. Does that mean you caved in less than a day?”
“I… that’s not what I meant. Hmm. I can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed. One night. And tomorrow, I’m free to do as I wish, yes?”
“Of course,” she purred. “I hoped you’d agree.” A fire raged in Mireithren’s eyes as she spoke, a deep hunger he could not place. “Come, let’s see what the rest of the city has to offer before we find a room for the night.”
A room? She can’t mean a single room with a single bed. She is going to kill me, isn’t she?
Therat could only nod his head in reply. Mireithren reached out and grabbed his hand. All thought lay in a puddle at his feet. The intoxicating siren pulled his hand forward.
“Let us find a quieter place,” she murmured. “I know they have hot springs here, somewhere. It will be a nice way to end the day before we sleep. If you let me do such a thing.”
Therat got the strange sense she wasn’t referencing daggers at each other’s throats.
The deep sorrow ofCídhen’s Rest disappeared in the presence of Mireithren. Everything about her enchanted Therat. Every movement was so tantalizing, it sent a flurry of thoughts about her—naked—through his mind. He couldn’t tell if she meant to tease him. It almost seemed like a game. Every coy word and flash of skin, every lingering touch, hands straying across his body begging for recognition and release.
Mireithren took the lead as they walked away from the shaded area lined with food stalls. She kept glancing back at Therat, her smile from when they first met back on her enchanting face. He lumbered behind her, reason fighting with passionate desire.
A part of him wanted to strangle the maiden and forget anything she ever told him. Deny what he knew to be true and turn back to the ever-hungering shadows, to let fate run its course. It was the smart decision.
But how could anyone choose the better option when he could only think of ripping the silks from Mireithren and taking her where she stood? Therat distracted himself with the slow and sorrowful birdsong, fighting to maintain control of himself. His passions cooled in time, but he dared not look too long at the woman.
They walked through the city streets and along winding paths in an attempt to find the hot springs. Platforms wide enough to fit a small hut lined the tallest of the trees. Dozens of them stood throughout the city. Figures draped in red robes and black veils knelt on the platforms, hundreds in each tree. Very few moved, and even fewer made a noise. Catatonic, slipping away as Myrniar’s eternal grief overcame them.
The raven-haired woman did most of the talking. She spoke of running away at nineteen, her journey to the West guided by an inexplicable feeling and a soft woman’s voice she first heard as a girl. How some strange weavecraft kept her from crossing the Andesiri River, the fast-flowing beast tumbling down from the forest of silver. And of a pale woman with soft violet eyes who spoke of a man in the desert Mireithren must find.
But now Therat found it impossible to focus on her words. They arrived at last at the small group of hot springs in a secluded part of the city. A well-worn path snaked through the tall rock formations. The gurgles of the bubbling waters provided a welcome reprieve from the sorrowful music of the city.
Mireithren said something. Therat only caught the last few words.
“… sit with me? Your feet will thank you.”
She grabbed onto Therat’s arm for support and yanked off one leather boot, then the other. The long slits in her silk skirt parted as a leg lifted and, for the briefest moment, Therat could see the bare curves of her upper thigh. His thoughts ran wild; what did she look like under the rest of her black raiment? Molars ached as Therat’s jaw tensed. Mireithren seemed oblivious until she turned around and grinned. Her eyes flashed as she bent over and unwrapped the thick black and silver ribbons from around her legs.
Therat could not look away even if his life depended on it. His skin prickled with anticipation, the yearning fire returning deep in his loins. Whatever the siren did to him, Therat didn’t want it to end.
