Page 136 of The City of Zirdai
Rendor stared at her. His gaze was clear and focused. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
And just like that, her energy returned in one blazing rush. “I agree.” She hugged him. Hard. He grunted in pain but squeezed her back with equal fervor.
“I thought you were a dream,” he whispered in her ear. “The floor swallowed you like a mythical sand beast. No one could live through that.” He slid his hands along her back as if reassuring himself of her presence. “You’re alive.”
“I am equally surprised.”
“What happened? How—”
Shyla silenced him with a kiss. “I’ll tell you the entire saga later. For now, I want to justbein this moment. With you.”
“I’m all yours.”
They buried the fallen in batches of roughly forty people at a time. Family members gathered, tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, stories told, and festivities were thrown to bid the deceased a fond farewell and best wishes for their next lives with the Sun Goddess. Kaveri officiated the seven mass burials.
Shyla, Rendor, and Hanif attended all the ceremonies. Hanif was anxious for a replacement Water Prince and wished to return to his duties at the monastery. Unlike Kaveri, who had embraced her new role and went from “filling in” to becoming the new Heliacal Priestess.
When all the people had been buried, Shyla focused on her next task. She gathered with Gurice and Jaft—her new seconds—and Rendor.
They sat in a conference room on level ninety-seven. Cleanup and repairs of the water pipes was ongoing, but it would take a few circuits for the complex to be fully restored.
“We need a new Water Prince or Water Princess,” Shyla said. “Hanif doesn’t want the job. Do you think Orla would be a good choice? Her commune is not only the biggest but the most organized.”
No one said anything. They all stared at her. Their gazes rested heavily on her.
Finally Rendor broke the silence. “Shyla, you know who Zirdai needs. Stop procrastinating.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yes, we know,” Gurice said. “Busy procrastinating.”
She crossed her arms and pouted. Her own people had turned against her. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. And they might have a small point.
The last thing Shyla wanted to do was talk to Jayden, but it appeared she’d run out of options.
Twenty-One
It had been thirty-two sun jumps since they’d locked Jayden in the testing chamber in the lower levels of Tamburah’s temple. Shyla went alone. An unpleasant odor greeted her first, one that reminded her of the black cells but not nearly as strong. Then she spotted Jayden. He sat with his back leaning on the wall and his forehead resting on his bent knees.
“Are you here to gloat?” He didn’t raise his head or attack her with his magic.
She scanned his supplies. A pile of empty water skins rested next to the low table. It had been overturned at some point—perhaps kicked over in anger. Two full skins and a couple rolls of jerky sat on the scrolls, which were as far away from the collection buckets as the chain attached to Jayden’s ankle would allow. He’d rationed his supplies. Smart.
The silence stretched. Eventually Jayden glanced at her. His golden brown hair was lackluster and a straggly beard covered his face. But it was the apathy in his gaze that alarmed her the most. She scanned his thoughts and emotions, reading his soul. He’d given up hope. He’d lost everything. Everyone he’d loved. No one would forgive him.
“I’m not here to gloat,” she said.
“But you won, didn’t you?”
“At a high cost. Too high to really call it a win.”
He shot to his feet. “Mojag?”
Ah, there it was. He still care about something. “Annoying as ever.”
Jayden sagged against the wall. “Gurice?”
“Promoted to one of my seconds.”
