Page 86 of Dark Island: Rescue
"Sarah's going to be insufferable if she wins this bet," another woman called from across the library.
"What bet?" Tula asked, grateful for the distraction from her spiraling thoughts.
"She wagered that Raviki couldn't go an entire day without complaining about the construction noise." The woman grinned. "Raviki lost. She already complained twice this morning."
"I did not complain," Raviki protested from her position near the window. "I merely observed that the hammering was making it difficult to concentrate."
"That's complaining," Sarah called out.
The easy banter washed over Esag, and through Tula's consciousness he felt the bittersweet ache of it. This was family. These women who'd been trapped together for millennia supported each other, teased each other, and loved each other.
And Tula was going to leave them all behind.
The guilt was overwhelming. It filled Tula'schest until Esag thought it might crack her ribs, made her throat tight, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. She wanted to at least say goodbye, but she couldn't.
She had to protect Areana. Had to maintain the illusion. Had to let them believe she'd chosen death over captivity.
Esag understood that intimately. He'd carried similar guilt for five thousand years—the guilt of disappointing people, of making choices that hurt others, of being unable to save everyone. He recognized the bitter taste of it.
I'm so sorry, Tula thought, and Esag felt the words echo through the borrowed consciousness.I'm so sorry I can't take you with me. I'm so sorry I have to lie. I'm so sorry for everything.
Unlike other visions, this one refused to end. Esag was trapped inside Tula's mind, observing as she worked, consulting with the others on this and that. Each interaction was colored by her guilt, by the knowledge that these were her last days among them.
Finally, mercifully, it was time for lunch.
The ladies filed out of the library together, moving through windowless corridors that felt too much like a tomb despite the elegant decor. Tula's hand drifted to her belly, and Esag felt the slight swell there, the evidence of the life growing inside her.
This was why she had to leave. For her child. So her son wouldn't be stolen away, raised as a warrior for a madman's army.
The dining room was elegant, with high ceilings and soft lighting. The table was already laden with food—fresh bread, cheeses, fruits, grilled meats. It looked like a feast.
Two men were seated at the table when the ladies arrived. Tula's gaze went immediately to the first one—average height, brown hair, pleasant features. When he saw her, his face lit up with a smile that was probably meant to be charming.
Tony.
Esag felt an immediate, visceral dislike for the man that surprised him with its intensity. There was something about Tony's posture, the way he held himself, that set Esag's teeth on edge. The human lacked substance. No backbone. He smiled too easily, agreed too readily, seemed to bend whichever way the wind blew.
Then Esag caught himself.
These weren't his feelings. They were Tula's—buried deep in her subconscious, where she didn't have to acknowledge them, but present nonetheless. She cared for Tony, maybe even loved him in her own way, but some part of her recognized his weaknesses and resented him for them.
"There you are," Tony said, pulling out the chair beside him. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."
"Never," Tula said, and it wasn't a lie. She would be forever connected to Tony through the life they had created together.
Another bolt of sorrow speared through her as she thought about her son growing up without his father.
As she sat, Tony took her hand under the table. The touch should have been comforting. Instead, Esag feltTula's irritation intensify, and she fought the urge to pull away.
She was already mourning this relationship. Already letting go.
A man sat across from them, and when Tula looked at him, Esag took the opportunity to pay closer attention.
Since he was the only other male around the table, Esag assumed that was Elias.
There was something different about this one. Unlike the shifty, uncertain Tony, Elias had presence—a calm, centered quality that spoke of age and experience. His eyes were older than his face, holding wisdom that came from a long life.
But he couldn't be immortal. If he were, Tamira would have known. Elias couldn't have fangs. Besides, other immortal males would have felt if he was a threat, and since Navuh allowed him in the harem, he obviously didn't regard him as one.
