Just after we cleared the pass, a heavy rainfall started, and out the carriage window, Kairos looked immensely pleased with himself. The army made camp in a field while we continued on to a keep that sat arched over the mountain road, ready to guard against an insurrection from the north. Desert men, I realized. This castle would defend the Bone Lands from clansmen.
We entered a courtyard to the left of the road, and there a full household of people stood to greet us. The head man rushed forward, eager to show his obeisance, but my husband stepped from the carriage, putting his hand inside for me to grasp. “All we require is a place to sleep tonight, Vestai Atalo. Certainly no such displays are necessary.” He paused a moment. “And we will collect your taxes before we leave in the morning. You have accrued a hefty sum, have you not?”
The man blanched a little. “Of course. But, Your Highness, the new queen—”
Calix beamed at this, sweeping aside to reveal me as I stepped out of the carriage. “Yes, Vestai, you are the first to lay your eyes on her beauty.”
The man bowed, touching his forehead once, twice, three times. “Your Highness,” he said to me.
I looked at Calix, unsure of how they acknowledged such supplication. He wasn’t looking at me, though; he was watching the man bow.
“Thank you,” I ventured.
He scuffled back and rose up, looking at me fully for the first time, his eyes running every which way over me like I was some immensely foreign thing.
Wanting to shrink from his study of me, I turned to my husband. He took my hand, leading me inside. “Send food to our chambers, Vestai,” Calix ordered. “And to the others, if they wish it, of course.”
The man was striding to keep ahead of my husband and lead him to our rooms. “Of course, Your Highness.”
The man opened a door for us, and Calix strode into the massive chamber without hesitation. My eyes were drawn helplessly upward to the ceiling, where tiny glass pieces had been affixed like stars. “Oh,” I gasped, turning to take it all in.
“One of the many wonders of this castle, Your Highness,” Vestai Atalo said. “It is said to grant blessings on those who sleep beneath these stars. A fitting chamber for a newly married couple.”
“Thank you, Vestai,” Calix said. He gestured toward the door, no longer bothering to acknowledge his host.
“Thank you—Vestai?” I asked, smiling at him.
He nodded. “My title, my queen. I am Atalo.”
“You are no longer required, Vestai,” Calix said. He was looking at him now, glaring, displeased.
The man dropped his gaze and left the room without a word.
“You can wash up in there,” Calix told me, waving a hand. “Quickly. The food will arrive soon.”
Confused, I wandered in the direction he had indicated. There was a smaller room, and it seemed to have a stream running through it, welling in a small basin. There was also a huge basin that I could have lain in, and it had curled horns of metal pointed into it with handles.
I tried one, and water spat out, splashing my dress. I yelped with glee and let it fill, getting enough water to wash my feet, hands, and face.
“You’re happy,” Calix said.
I turned to see him in the doorway. “Do all Trifectate castles have this?” I asked, stepping out of the basin and braiding my hair back. “Water, all the time?” He looked at me, his eyes skimming over me.
Then he moved forward. “This is the only one with an open stream of water. It was built by a heathen who worshiped water. Now that the desert peace is secured, this castle will be tumbled and a new one—a Trifectate castle—raised in its place,” he said, sitting on the bench and tugging his boots off.
A heathen who worshiped water—an Elementa, I realized. Kata’s people.
He stood, going to the basin that was still full of water. He sat at the edge, dipping his feet in.
“Here,” I said, reaching for a cloth. “Let me.”
He looked suspicious. “You wish to wash my feet.”
My cheeks burned. Was that a bad thing? “It’s … for my people, it’s a sign of care. Of respect. We don’t often have water, so washing is a thing of honor.”
His stern face didn’t ease, but he reached out and touched my cheek. He nodded once, clearing his throat. “Very well. Thank you.”
I bent over the edge of the basin, rolling up the legs of his clothing, and I ran the cloth gently over him, cleaning off the dust from the road.
“My mother did this for me,” he said, his voice quiet.
“Of course she did,” I said, smiling softly at him. “She wanted to care for you.”
He stopped me. “You care for me.”
My mouth felt dry. “I … I believe I will, when we know each other better.”
His gaze was careful, but amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever been in love before, Shalia?” he asked.
I drew a breath in and shook my head. “No,” I said. “I’ve never even met many men outside my family.”
His fingers touched my cheek gently, thinking. “It’s a frightening thing, to care for someone like that.”
“You’ve been in love?” I asked.
He nodded, his hand falling from my cheek. “Or at least I thought I was. I was young. She died,” he said. “A long time ago.”
My heart ached for him. “I’m sorry,” I offered. “In the desert, we believe a person’s spirit is indestructible. It means the people you lose are always with you.”
He wasn’t looking at me now. “It’s strange that you would say that. I thought I saw her,” he said. “Last night. Like she was giving me to you.” He shifted. “But we do not have the same beliefs,” he told me.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kept washing, staying silent for several minutes.
“Enough,” he said.
I stopped, straightening up. He stepped out of the tub and pressed a kiss to my temple, and led me out into the main chamber and our bed. Our food arrived, and I ate a little of a roasted game bird, enjoying the hot meal after so much traveling.
But then our dinner was done, and my husband pulled me close to him on the bed. It seemed like our conversation was a crumb, a tiny piece of sustenance that I could slowly gather to make into a real connection between my husband and me, but it didn’t make our night together more comfortable, or enjoyable, or any of the things my mother talked about. I wondered how long it would take, how many crumbs of conversation and care I would have to hoard to feel those intimate feelings.
When my husband finished and held me close to him, I thought perhaps it was the same as being tall, or short—maybe my mother and cousins just enjoyed this more, and I would enjoy it less, and it wasn’t something that could develop or change—it was just a fact of my body.
I closed my eyes, trying to be satisfied with that idea, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
Secrets Like Armor
The next morning, I found my desert robes gone and something else in their place, a thing like Danae wore. It was just a single, wide, very long piece of red cloth and a length of silky ribbon.
Frozen in bed, I stared at it as my husband dressed. “Calix,” I asked. “What do I do with this?”
He looked at it. “Put it on.”
“Will you ask Danae to help me?”