“I found you at the temple,” I reminded him.
He grimaced. “They probably won’t perform Antreem’s Mass again for another decade.” Then he tilted his head to one side. “You want to go?”
I stared at him through the haze of pain. “What? In ten years?”
He used that shrug again. “Only if you want to.”
I started to smile, winced, then settled for a nod. “Of course I want to.”
10
“Busted knuckles and nose, those shoulders, and green eyes that don’t look away, that just keep on going.” Ela closed her own eyes, reviewing some private image. “I can see why you like him.”
I found myself, to my great surprise, suddenly jealous. I couldn’t say I loved Ruc, not yet, but I still hoped to. I’d come to Dombang to try to love him, at least, not so that some other priestess could spend her evenings skulking in the shadows and licking her lips. Even if that priestess was quickly growing into one of Rassambur’s legends.
Ela raised her ta, seemingly oblivious to the turbulence churning inside me. Only when she’d taken a small sip, savored it, then set the cup down once more did she go on. “A good choice—arranging your first meeting at the baths. If you’re going to see a man, you want to see all of him. Then again—”
I cut her off. “I didn’t see you.”
“The Witness does the witnessing. Not the other way around.”
“Where were you?”
“Close enough to hear what I needed to hear. To see what I wanted to see.” She luxuriated a moment in her own lazy smile. “Did you know about that scar on his thigh?” She tipped back in her chair, drew a line up the inside of her own thigh with a painted fingernail. “Right here?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I did know. It’s from one of those jungle spears.”
Ela nodded approvingly. “I like a man with scars.” She waved a hand toward the serving staff. “These are pretty enough, but too smooth, like little figurines. They feel like porcelain whenever I run my hands over them.” She frowned. “Warm porcelain.”
I stared. “I thought you were spending all your time following me.”
“All my time?” Ela’s laugh was bright and rich, a chime ringing in the hot morning wind. “How exhausting. You’ve been running all over the city since we got here, painting little symbols, killing people, visiting the baths.…” She made no effort to lower her voice, even at the mention of my murders and sedition. “If I spent all my time following you, when would I enjoy Dombang’s more leisurely charms?” She nodded toward the bar, where two of the servingmen were conferring. “Kam and Keo aren’t going to pleasure themselves.” She pursed her lips, then reformulated. “Well, I’m sure they do, but I like to think I bring a little something extra to the experience.”
“What about watching me?”
Ela reached across the table to pat my hand. “Don’t be jealous, Pyrre. I’m not neglecting you. It’s true that Kossal takes half of the shifts, but when it’s my turn to keep my eye on you, I promise—my gaze is yours alone.”
“When you’re not watching Ruc.”
“All a part of my piety,” she replied, then winked.
“Piety?” I managed, almost choking on the word. “Where’s the piety in studying Ruc’s scars, his shoulders? You’re a priestess of Ananshael.”
“Which means that I need to know, when you finally give him to the god, whether you love him.”
I stared at her.
“And that knowledge requires you to skulk around the baths studying his naked thighs?”
“Skulking.” Ela made a face, as though she’d bitten into an unripe firefruit. “Such an ugly word. Mostly, I was floating on my back.”
“The position is irrelevant.”
Ela pursed her lips. “I’ve found that the position—the right position—can make all the difference.” She put down her clay mug, then cocked her head, studying me. “Yours, for instance, leaves something to be desired.”
As so often with Ela, I felt like I was falling. The ease with which she moved from Ruc’s thighs to her own piety then back again to sex left me dizzy, disoriented, as though the ground had tilted beneath me. Even her tone escaped me. One moment, it would seem as though she was laughing at me from behind those brown eyes; the next, her smile—perfect white teeth flashing between her upturned lips—seemed like an offering, a secret invitation to some private confidence, one offered to me alone in all the world. I could never quite decide whether to fight or to smile back.
I felt like a little girl when I finally managed my reply, one who knew nothing of the world or its people. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Obviously,” she replied, rising smoothly from her seat. She stretched her neck to one side then the other, quirked an eyebrow at me, then gestured. “Get up.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the private deck behind my room.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
Ela smiled. “Education.”
*
I tried to look normal as I stood on the wide deck, casual. Faced with the bright amusement of Ela’s gaze, however, everything about my body felt suddenly strange. I couldn’t seem to find a normal stance, couldn’t remember how my arms were supposed to hang at my sides. I tried crossing them over my chest, felt ridiculous—like a blustery soldier from the stage—then let them drop. Ela raised her brows.
“Ananshael’s sweetest kiss, Pyrre, you’re even more awkward around me than you were around him. Are you trying to look like one of those long-legged birds from the delta?”
“They’re called sticklegs,” I ground out.
“You have beautiful legs, but the way you’re posed there…” Ela took a step back. “You don’t need to use the privy, do you?”
Shame splashed my cheeks. “I didn’t know mockery was a part of the Trial.”
“Normally, it’s not, but these are desperate times. You’ve got a perfectly gorgeous green-eyed, broken-nosed brawler out there just waiting to lap you up, but if you can’t even stand the right way, you’re never going to fall in love.”
I ground my teeth. “What does how I stand have to do with falling in love?”
Ela blinked. “Surely you don’t mean that.”
“Assume I am stupider than you realized.”
“Much stupider?”
“You might as well start at the beginning.”
The priestess let out a low whistle, wetted her lips with the tip of the tongue, then waved me toward her. I took a step forward. “Closer,” she said. “Stand just outside your striking range.”