Chapter IX

It was hot. Not that he should have been surprised by that—it was always hot in Sarlan. But he couldn't remember it ever being this hot. Had he let training run over? He glared up at the bright sun—it wasn't straight overhead. Why was it so hot?

He was sweating from head to toe. It poured from his temples, into his hair, down his neck, from under his arms. It soaked his clothes and made him feel uncomfortably sticky. The sand that blew around his feet stuck to his legs.

Roane made it to his tent and into the shade. It was so much better to be out of the direct sunlight, and still it wasn't enough. He could feel the sweat still dripping. He would never get cool again—he'd die from overheating.

"Sulqin?" he called from the tent door where he hadn't moved since he'd come in. There was no reply, so he stripped off the tunic he'd been wearing and threw it in the corner. He kicked the sandals from his feet as well, not that it did much good. He was determining whether it would be better for him to dig a hole and lay in the cool sand six feet under, waiting to die from overheating and dehydration when a voice called to him from the tent flap.

"Roane, you are back," she said. He nodded and went to grab another tunic. He didn't want to put it on—it was too hot—but it was only proper that he put one on in Sulqin's presence. "You must be hot," she said when she saw where he was going. "Sit—I will help you cool down." He furrowed his brow, confused. How was she going to do that? But he sat back where he was. Sulqin went into her tent and returned five minutes later, wearing a bright orange, silky dress instead of her usual brown one. She was carrying a large earthen bowl, and inside he could hear sloshing water. There was also a sweet scent drifting in the air, coming either from the bowl or Sulqin herself.

He watched her carefully, his eyes narrowing. What was going on? The sweet scent filled the entire tent. He could feel his limbs relaxing as he inhaled. The idea of being there with Sulqin when he was naked from the waist up wasn't a cause for alarm anymore. It didn't really matter. His arms and legs felt heavy, and his eyelids drooped slightly.

He recognized the scent, not that he really cared under the influence of it. It was the fragrance of the bark that Sulqin and he had found in the oasis two weeks ago. He knew he was being drugged, in a manner of speaking, but he just didn't care about it.

"Sulqin," he said heavily. There was so much more fragrance than there had been at the oasis. He felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, and every word, breath, or movement was a monumental struggle. ... Was this when Sulqin killed him? He knew it had all been too good to be true. She had changed too much over too little a time for it to be real.

He felt pretty stupid for believing her, but he also felt that he didn't care about how he felt. This plant was really something.

"Shh," she said soothingly. He glanced at her, or attempted to. She was swimming in a sea of haze, and he could just make out her face. He blinked in confusion. Now he was hallucinating. Sulqin never took off the niqab.

Her face was beautiful, or rather, what he could see of her face was. The russet tone of her skin, deep red of her lips, and black of her eyes sat perfectly on a perfect face. Her hair, shiny and smooth, fell slightly past her shoulders.

She set the bowl down beside him, and the fumes wafted up his nostrils, making his senses even duller and his reactions even slower. He wanted to ask her to take it away—he hated not having control of his body—but he couldn't even accomplish that. He was completely powerless, and that was even more terrifying.

"We have been together for almost two months now, Roane," she told him. Yes, he knew that. His muddled brain registered the fact that there was something dragging across his back, and he struggled to understand what it was. He watched the bowl carefully, waiting for a connection. Then he saw Sulqin's hand holding a cloth drenched in the sweetly perfumed water, and he understood that she was cooling him off by washing him.

Strange. It was a strange sensation. He saw her face, clearer now—perhaps he was growing accustomed to the dulling drug—and he lusted for her. His relaxed body coupled with his relaxed state of mind called out for her. He could make out the shape of her body under the thin orange gown she'd worn, and he wanted her still. And he understood, at least at some level, that Sulqin knew all of this. She'd used the plant in the water for a reason, she'd dressed that way for a reason, and she'd deliberately removed the niqab in his presence.

His heart rate, so slow thanks to the magical aroma that permeated the tent, began to increase its cadence. He could barely register the feeling of the cloth as she washed his back, his shoulders, the back of his neck.

"Relax—that is what the plant is for. You are always so tense. I thought it would be nice for you to be calm for a change."

"This isn't a natural calm. The stress will come back when the plant is gone," he said slowly, trying without much success to speak normally. He felt stupid, dull.

"The plant is natural enough," Sulqin told him quietly, wringing out the cloth and continuing her journey down his back.

"Why aren't you wearing your niqab?" he questioned.

Sulqin hesitated, or at least he thought she did. But when she answered, she was certain in her answer. "Because I do not need it anymore."

"I thought –"

"Shh," she hummed, running her fingers over his lips and making his stomach jump uncomfortably. "It is not important, Roane. I know what I am doing."

He swallowed heavily, the lump in his throat refusing to slide down easily. "And what is that, exactly?" he asked her. She was silent.

Then, as if he'd been doused in water, his stomach dropped and a lump formed in his throat as he struggled to swallow. He could feel kisses on his neck, light as air. Sulqin pressed her lips to his skin connecting his neck to his shoulder, and his eyes fluttered closed, giving in to the drug and to her touch.

But when he closed his eyes, he could see only one person. She wasn't russet-toned. She didn't have straight, black hair. And her eyes were not dark as night.

Aeleisa. It was like waking up from a dream and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Everything was clear again. He could move his legs with a little effort, and breathing was easier. He kept his eyes closed and focused on her face, missing her more than he had since he'd left almost five months ago. She was like his antidote, and he drank up the sight of her, curing his body of the plant's lethargic effects.

He stood up suddenly, and Sulqin stared at him, rejection shining as bright as day in her eyes. She was beautiful, and he found that he hadn't made it up—she wasn't wearing her niqab. He wondered what it meant, but the query wasn't enough to keep him in the tent.

"I'm sorry, I can't," he said simply, before leaving the tent, Sulqin's dark eyes boring holes into his back.

"There you go, Lenti. This will keep you warm," Hayden told the horse as he lined the stall with more hay. He couldn't have the horses catching a chill, especially not now when the weather was so unpredictable. Early April was notorious for being perfectly pleasant by day and freezing by night.

Lenti was bored and lonely. Even Hayden, who'd had very little experience with horses before his stint at the palace, could tell that he was getting restless and sad. He missed his owner. The first couple of days that Roane didn't show up to train, walk, or just talk with him, the horse had been indignant. After about a week he began looking longingly out his window, watching the path that Roane always took to get to the stables. By February, Lenti had altogether stopped caring. He would gaze out the window for exactly ten seconds every day and then stand like a statue for the rest of it.

Hayden hadn't thought it possible for horses to experience such intense emotions. He'd heard that horses grew attached to their owners, but Hayden had never seen anything in Roane particularly worthy of the devout love that Lenti gave him. Then again, maybe he was biased.

The horse snorted and nuzzled his shoulder softly, the only response he ever gave him. He looked at Hayden with his huge, blue eyes, as if asking him where Roane was and when he was coming back. Hayden didn't have the heart to tell him that he probably wouldn't be coming back. If he did, the horse would die within a matter of days. The only thing keeping him alive was the hope that Roane would return to him.

It was sad, in a way, to feel that devoted to another being. It would completely consume the person until there was little left of the self and only the other to occupy his thoughts. Hayden shuddered. He never wanted to be that way.

He patted Lenti's mane until it was smooth and then tried to feed him some oats—usually his favorite snack. He didn't eat it, or even nibble at it. He sniffed it once and then turned sadly back to the window. Hayden sighed.

Roane, you'd better come back. I'd hate to see him starve himself over you.

The doors to the stables opened, and most of the horses' heads turned to see who the intruders were. Lenti didn't care, and Hayden heaved another sigh before hopping down from the stall and into the pathway.

"Good morning, milords," Hayden said as the two Lords approached. He recognized them both as begin in charge of two other Chosen—they'd gone on horse rides together through the gardens on several occasions. Roane and Aeleisa had never done that. Of course, Roane and Aeleisa had hated each other until a few months ago.

They nodded their heads to him in greeting and then one of them stepped forward. "If we could have two horses readied for riding into town as soon as possible, we would be most appreciative."

Hayden nodded and walked down the path, glancing into the stables for the everyday horses. He chose two that had been a little rowdy recently—the exercise would do them some good, and began to dress them for the journey. The lords walked up and down the pathway, talking. Hayden caught little snippets of the conversation.

He was almost finished tightening the leather saddle on the first horse when the lords stopped right outside the stall and continued in hurried whispers. Hayden leaned closer, the urge to hear what they were saying overweighing his general rule of not eavesdropping.

"And you have no idea where they are now?" one asked.

"None whatsoever—I liked this one too. I wish the King would tell us where he sends the Chosen after their year is up. It's quite sad, becoming good friends with the young people and then watching them leave year after year."

"Yes. Wherever they are, I pray they are safe."

Hayden's stomach plummeted to the ground. The horse, who was waiting for him to put the bit in his mouth, nudged him in the side once or twice with his muzzle. That snapped him out of it, and as quickly as he could he readied the other horse. He was done in half the time.

"There you are," he said. Talking was difficult. What if these Lords weren't just talking about their Chosen? What if all of the Chosen were gone? He'd just found Aeleisa. Had she really been taken from him again?

"Thank you, lad," the one who had spoken to him before said. They took the horses and led them out of the stables. Hayden watched them from the window to make sure they didn't see him and then he sprinted to the castle. Once he was there, he paused and looked around. He wasn't sure how to get in. He'd never been inside the castle before, except through the servant's quarters. Should he go there? He didn't know how to get to Aeleisa's rooms from there.

His mind made up—he would just circle the castle until he found them—he raced to the servant's entrance.

He hadn't seen Aeleisa since before the Yuletide season. Almost four months was a long time, but he assumed she was busy with Chosen affairs, or holed up in her room because Roane was gone. He raced through the halls until he skidded to a halt outside of the servant's quarters. "Lord Deilliad's rooms!" he exclaimed to the nearest servant, who silently pointed the way. He continued asking this question until he finally made it to the hallway.

He knew from enough of Roane's stories that Aeleisa was across the hall from his rooms. Hayden stood outside the door, thinking. Did he dare go inside? What if she was in there, and those lords had just had the Chosen they were taking care of taken away for some reason or another?

But that didn't fit with their stories. They'd talked about a year being up. And it had been nearly a year since Aeleisa had been in the palace... give or take a month. Had something happened? Did she need his help?

He would have to go inside. If she was in there, then he would apologize and be on his way. It wasn't a big deal—they were friends. He was used to seeing her at her worst, like when she'd just gotten out of bed or when she was ill. He was prepared for anything.

He pushed on the handle, half-expecting it to be locked. But the door clicked and allowed him access. He stepped tentatively inside.

He thought he'd been prepared for anything. But he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Broken shards of porcelain littered the entranceway next to the overturned hall-stand. There was a stain coming from the broken vase where the water had left a ring on the hardwood floor after it had dried. The flowers were dried and long dead, but obviously trampled on.

And that was just the entranceway. There were long slices along the walls where it looked like the paint was ripped off with a dull knife. The pillows from her couches were strewn across the room, one or two of which had been ripped apart. The feathers dusted the floor, along with a few drops of dried blood.

Hayden was sick to his stomach by the time he made it to the bedroom. The sheets and curtains were ripped and torn. There was more blood, and an overturned candle holder. Hayden had just bent down to inspect the candle holder when he felt a foot on his backside. He fell unceremoniously forward and got tangled in the sheets that had spilled from the bed.

"Haven't you done enough?" a voice growled above him, the savagery and hostility evident in each and every word. "I won't allow you to pillage my mistress' things! Get out!"

Hayden finally managed to untangle himself and he looked up. What he saw nearly made his heart stop. The ferocity in her bright, powder blue eyes was no mistake, but it was unjustified. He knew this, and so it allowed him to see past it. She was beautiful. Olive skin, blue eyes, long, black hair. She was a goddess on Earth. Hayden was stunned speechless.

"I said to get out!" she shouted, aiming a kick at his leg. He moved it just in time and scrambled to his feet.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, holding his hands out as she raced toward him with her fist raised. "Wait, I promise, I'm not a thief!" he insisted. He grabbed her wrists as she sent them flying down on him and held them tightly so that she couldn't hit him. "Let me explain."

"I don't wish to hear any explanation you may have!" she screamed, struggling against his hold. "I will call the soldiers if you don't leave right now!"

"I'm Aeleisa's friend—Hayden. From Laciana!" he shouted quickly. She stopped struggling immediately and glared at him suspiciously.

"Hayden has blonde hair," she said monotonously.

"I used to have blonde hair—I dyed it in order to better hide my identity from Roane Deilliad," he explained. "He'd seen me in the market with Aeleisa when she was taken, and I couldn't risk him finding out who I was. I came to help Aeleisa." He thought back. He hadn't really done much to help her. They'd had one ill-fated escape attempt.

She studied him carefully and then took a deep breath.

"If I let you go, will you promise not to attack me?"

"If you swear an oath to Zenis that you are Hayden and are not here to pillage my mistress' things. And you must remember, an oath to Zenis is an oath over your soul."

"I swear it," Hayden said immediately and without hesitation. The girl relaxed visibly and then nodded. He let go of her wrists and she massaged them gently as she looked at him.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were trying to steal Aeleisa's things. She had enough trouble without having her personal belongings stolen by thieves."

"What... what happened here?" he asked the girl.

The girl looked around sadly. "She was taken in the middle of the night. I don't know to where she was taken or for what purpose. I came in one morning and things were like this," she explained, motioning around to the room. Hayden watched her speak with fascination. Then, berating himself for caring about something like that when Aeleisa was clearly in great peril, he cleared his throat and looked around the room again.

"You work in the palace—you must know something more than I do."

"While I'm sure that's the case, I don't know more about this than I've just told you," she answered. Hayden ignored the jab. He was too charmed by her wit.

He smiled. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Leina Talnor," she responded, curtsying to him. Hayden's face grew red. People didn't usually curtsy to him. Actually, they never did.

"I'm Hayden Kael," he said. "Although... I guess you knew that already. Sorry, I was just..." he stopped, afraid to continue. He would just ramble if he did. Leina narrowed her eyes and then nodded slowly.

"Well, I have work to do. You'd better not let someone else catch you in here." She smirked. "They might not be as forgiving as me, and they might not know yours and Aeleisa's history as I do," she cautioned. Hayden nodded silently and watched her leave with longing.

He shook his head after she was gone and tried to catch his breath. As he left Aeleisa's rooms as well, he pondered. He'd never been in love before, and he'd never been one to believe in love at first sight.

Well. Leina Talnor had just converted him to the light.