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6
ANYA
I woke earlythe next morning, wondering how Silas would respond to being woken and made to do chores. I felt a little bad for him, but the thought of having him at my side all day filled me with a tiny buzz of excitement. As I dressed, I took an extra minute to shake the dust out of my robe, stopped in front of a mirror to get my hair under control, and then I splashed cool water over my face.
"Who are you getting all dressed up for?" one of the other girls called when she spotted me brushing out my tresses with considerable care.
There was a tittering of laughter behind me along with a few remarks made at my expense, but I ignored them, twirling around in my old familiar robe and fanning it out like a ball gown.
"You call this dressed up?"
They snickered but didn't say any more, let themselves out, and headed to work.
As promised, Silas was waiting with Ember for my arrival. They were talking quietly when I arrived, and I caught the last bit of their conversation, but I hardly needed to eavesdrop to know that the subject was the oncoming storms. Silas had his shoulders back and his face set in a serious expression that made him look older than he was. It was cute, in a way.
I watched him for a while, standing guard at the window like some kind of soldier, and tried not to acknowledge the emotions and desires within me. My body and mind were at war with one another. It had been so long since I'd felt true desire and attraction for any man. But every ounce of practicality in my bones told me it was wrong. He was too young. He was too naive. And most of all, he was a Guardian, the furthest thing from my station in this palace. Even daydreaming about his still-soft hands and his muscular chest was too far.
I took a deep breath and went out to greet them both.
"Good morning, Ember. Come on, Silas, we've got work to do," I said shortly, willing myself not to get sucked into their speculative conversation.
With a look from Ember, he fell into step behind me, his boots filling the hall with heavy bass beats between my quick steps.
"Where do we start?"
"First, we need to gather supplies. Then we start downstairs in the sanctuary. You will be polishing the doors, inside and out, while I work inside."
He frowned and started to protest, but I stopped directly in front of him, staring up into his bright eyes. "You are going to polish the doors. I am going inside to sweep and dust the High Priest's throne. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go outside and practice."
I turned back around, hoping he didn't notice the heat rapidly rising in my cheeks. To my relief, he remained silent as we marched down to the closet and gathered a few rags and a broom. His footsteps slowed, following at a respectful, if cautious, distance.
As we approached the sanctuary, Silas watched me mildly and remained quiet as I handed him the tools of my trade. To his credit, he accepted them as graciously as he could, which still involved a little eye roll.
"Okay. I'm going in. You stay out here and start on the outside of the doors. Take your time. If anyone does happen to come down, you need to look busy and suitably sullen. Got it?"
"Did you know you sound just like Ember when she's lecturing Kiango about something?" he asked, a cheeky smile playing across his lips.
My mouth fell open, searching for the perfect retort, but none came. Flustered, I snapped my mouth shut and pressed my lips into a thin line, pushing through the doors as fast as I could to get away from him.
But, to my astonishment, when I pushed through the door, there was still a smattering of residents praying silently in the grand hall. Their heads were turned up toward the light beaming down through the ceiling, washing the whole room in a dim blue glow. The High Priest's throne was empty, but the room still smelled of the strong perfumes that clung to his formal robes. He had just been here.
A few heads rose at my sudden entrance, giving me disapproving looks as I moved down the aisle. I wasn't supposed to be here. Not until they were done. But I'd been so distracted by Silas, and carried along by the thrill of having him with me, I hadn't even looked at the time. Desperate to avoid future reprimands from the residents or the High Priest himself, I ducked sideways into one of the narrow pews and dropped to my knees, settling into a prayer.
It was practically unheard of for a servant to pray alongside the residents, but it had to be better than standing there, getting glared at. At least this way, I could stare up at the hole in the ceiling and pretend I was invisible until they were done.
So that's where I stayed until the last of the residents rose to their feet, giving me one last disgruntled sneer before making their way out. More than once, I heard them cursing Silas for being in the way as they went, but he managed to keep his mouth closed and withstand their frustrations as he continued to work, and I whispered a sarcastic thanks to Re'Utu for him holding his tongue. At best, they would all think he was being punished by Kiango and polishing the doors as penance.
When they were all gone, I let out a long sigh and rose to my feet. I hurried around the room, sweeping as quickly as I could and then I went up to the dais. Up here, the smell of Trydan's perfumes still hung heavy in the air, making me want to cough, but before I could, I caught a whisper echoing down the dark hall from the High Priest's chambers. Reflexively, I stifled my cough with the back of my fist and stood still as a statue while I listened, creeping closer to the edge of the hall so I could pick up more of the words.
"We have to tell him. The news will be all over soon enough anyway," Trydan said calmly.
"He doesn't need to know anything. It would only distract him from his training, and we can't afford that, can we?" There was a threatening tenor in Imrys's voice that sent shivers down my spine.
I couldn't hear Trydan's response aside from a low grumble of assent.
"With any luck, the storms will block out communications anyway, and the news of Priest Nabh's death will be lost for a while," Imrys continued, his tone rising amiably.
At first, I thought I must have misheard. Priest Nabh could not be dead. He had just been here. He had brought... Silas. Suddenly, I felt like I was suffocating in the dark corner of the sanctuary. Silas didn't know. They didn't want him to know, but something was afoot. If people were dying just beyond the borders of Ke’Thal, the danger might be upon us at any moment.
A chill coursed through my veins and pressed myself flat to the wall. I needed to think. I needed to decide whether or not I should tell Silas. Of course it would devastate him, and perhaps Imrys was right about distracting him from his training, but Kiango had left that in my hands. I would have Silas trained in no time. I cursed under my breath, wishing Kiango was here to break the news instead. But it was only me, and the whispered conversation had drawn to an end.
Clutching at my broom handle, I turned quickly to go back to my work, only to realize too late that an unlit wall sconce hung near my head. My broom handle knocked it askew and my heart raced as I waited for the clatter of the candle and its base when it hit the floor. But then, my body was pressed flat against the wall and a heavy hand fell over my face, keeping me from screaming. The clatter never came, and when I opened my eyes, I realized it was Silas pressed up against me, one hand over my lips and the other outstretched, holding the candle where he had caught it in midair.
"Shh," he cautioned, letting his hand slip away from my mouth so I could breathe again, and setting the candle back in its seat.
All the while, I remained shockingly aware of my back pressing into the cool wall behind me and his smooth, hot chest blanketing me from the front. I could smell the polish on him and beneath that, the soft scent of his masculine musk.
