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“Don’t push your luck,” I growl.
Then I notice the way Belcalis subtly perks up at the suggestion. Yet more guilt rises inside me. I’ve been so focused on my own needs, I forgot I’m not the only person on this journey. Not the only person who has needs to tend to.
Thankfully, my friends have forgiven my selfishness.
I sigh. “And a bath too.” Then I turn to Nenneh Kadeh. “Lead us on to dinner. And then I see Mother.”
Nenneh Kadeh nods, pleased. “And then you see your mother.”
11
Once the horn rays have flown away, Nenneh Kadeh and the rest of the godsworn lead us and our gryphs to the scholarly-looking district I noticed earlier, where one of those jewellike buildings unfurls like an elegant flower in the middle of a grove of blue-leafed trees. It’s relatively austere, compared to the grandiosity of the rest of the island, a muted yet cheerful yellow structure, but at its center is a courtyard with a small, fragrant garden. At one end, platters of food are piled on a bright yellow table that seems to emerge from the floor itself.
“For you, our honored guests,” Nenneh Kadeh says, gesturing.
My friends and I don’t have to be told twice.
We converge on the table faster than a nest of sting-flies on a rotting carcass. Within what feels like minutes, the entire table is wiped clean of the very last morsel, and we’re all licking our lips and belching politely into the wet cloths we’ve been handed.
“My thanks,” I say when we’re done.
Nenneh Kadeh inclines her head. “It is our pleasure. And now, if you please, your chambers await.”
Li lifts a finger. “With hot baths, I hope?” When we all whirl to frown at him, he wrinkles his nose. “Whaaat? I’m filthy.”
“If you’ll follow me.” Nenneh Kadeh gestures at the group, leading us down a bright hallway with clear glass walls that peer into even prettier, tinier gardens.
That’s not our final destination, however. The godsworn lead each of us to our own separate room, inside which are small but luxurious bathing chambers covered in the same yellow stones as the exterior.
Any lingering suspicions I have about Nenneh Kadeh, the godsworn, and this island in general flit away the moment I spot the sunken tub brimming with heated water. Li was right: a bath was exactly what we all need. All my worries can come later. For now, I will soak my weary body for the first time in a month and finally rid myself of the ever-present stink of gold and blood.
“Thank you. This is all I require,” I say, swiftly waving the godsworn out the door. I would be more polite, but I’m too tired to manage it.
Once they’re gone, I strip off my filthy leather armor and make proper and lengthy use of the tub. Afterward, I put on the white sleeping robes that have been laid out on the massive canopied bed, sink into the cloth mattress, which is so soft, it might as well be a cloud, and fall soundly asleep.
By the time I wake, attendants in diaphanous pink robes are waiting by the door, lengths of blue fabric in hand. I know immediately that they’re godsworn, because even though they look mostly human, they’re all pleasantly soft around the edges and have an airy way of moving, as if they’ll float away if I take my eyes off them for just one moment.
“Have I been asleep for long?” I ask, yawning groggily.
“Only a day, Angoro,” the foremost attendant, a short, plump man with gold paint dusting his eyes and cheekbones, says in a voice that manages to sound both high-pitched and melodious, as if he’s singing every time he talks.
“A day?” I leap out of bed, headed for the farthest corner of the room, where I left my armor. But when I get there, Ixa is sprawled across it in his adolescent form, body lean and serpentine, tail stretched toward the door.
I poke him with my foot. Move, Ixa! I urge.
But Ixa sleeping, he whines as another attendant steps forward, one who looks so smoothly male and female, I know immediately that they’re yandau—those who are neither one nor the other.
“Our deepest apologies. We were told not to disturb you, Angoro,” they reply in that singsongy voice.
Like all the other attendants, they’re wearing a golden half mask, which covers their nose and mouth just as golden nail extenders cover their fingertips.
“Well, you were told wrong,” I say, rolling Ixa away as I search for my armor, only it’s gone, as are all the rest of my old clothes. I whirl to the attendants. “Where are my things?” I ask, infuriated.
“Discarded,” the foremost attendant says regretfully, shaking his head. “They were…unsalvageable, Angoro.”
“They were mine!”
“We have brought replacements.” He gestures and the other attendants hurry forward with the blue fabric, which turns out to be an astonishingly long dress. “For you,” he says respectfully. “I oversaw its creation myself. May I?” He looks at me so hopefully, my anger fades.
