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“You missed your appointment.”
I clenched fingers into my palm. “We had some delays.”
The naga’s body curled into a loop, and Lira pointedly looked at her eyes. “Your delays are not the Naga’s concern, Sai of the Prasanna.”
“Please, would you request another audience with him tonight?” I gestured to the bundle. “I’ve brought an offering.”
Her eyelids closed horizontally, and Lira winced enough that she brushed my arm, causing it to flame with awareness of her. Which was not helpful when facing such a powerful being and needing my focus. The naga opened her eyes. “He cannot meet with you tonight. He says tomorrow at dawn.”
A peal of thunder tore across the sky again, and fat raindrops plopped into the water.
“Is there any way he could spare me a few moments now? It’s going to storm.”
“What does the Naga care for storms you earth creatures must face?” she asked impassively. Her body sank lower. “Tomorrow at dawn, not a moment later, or not at all.” She disappeared into the river.
“Damn it,” I cursed as I snatched up the bundle of food and shoved it back into my pack. Water fell in a steady beat against the river. “Come on,” I said to Lira. “I know a place close by that will offer better shelter than a tent in this weather.”
I offered my hand, and she didn’t hesitate to accept. Her fingers curled around mine, and I brushed a thumb over her knuckles. I couldn’t help it. She was so close, so beautiful, so… something I couldn’t quite name.
“What was her name?” Lira asked.
“Who? The naga? She has no name that I know of.”
“I thought the Naga is who you wish to meet with?”
The rain grew heavier, pelting us with icy cold. We tucked under tree limbs, jogged around stumps, and pushed our way through the increasingly stormy forest. “Nagas do not take common names. They all go by ‘naga’ to fae, buttheNaga is their leader.”
“What’s a common name?”
I came to a stop which startled Lira. She peered up at me as rain slipped down her cheeks. “How do you not know what a common name is?” I asked.
She dropped her face. “I know little about magic. Remember, I grew up with humans in Madalia. Like I said, I may not be useful.”
I raised her chin and self-indulgently let my fingers stay draped over her silky skin as icy rain pooled around them. “You’re useful and worthy. You just don’t see it.”
The part of me that still felt like that child crouched in the closet, fearful of what my magic meant, seemed intensely present. I wished I could comfort Lira as my father had once reassured me.
Lira shifted away from me, and I could imagine a blush coloring her pale cheeks. I swiped rain off my forehead. “A common name is the one anyone can use. But any fae with a zevar also has a true name that locks their magic in place to it. If you know someone’s true name, you have power over them.”
She cocked her head to the side, and water spilled down the long line of her neck. Her rain-soaked hair had grown dark enough that it almost had color. “What kind of power?”
“You can speak to them in their mind, no matter how far apart they may be. And you can have some level of control over their actions. You can’t…” I gave a frustrated shake of my head. It was difficult to explain. “You can’t take over their mind exactly, but you can wrestle mentally with them to force them to do something or stop them from taking an action.”
“That’s scary—to have someone else in your mind like that—isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never shared my true name.” Only the Naga who’d bequeathed it when he infused my magic to my zevar knew it. I’d made damn sure of that.
Lightning sliced across the sky, illuminating the silver forms of the trees and Lira’s face until her skin appeared ivory, like a statue rather than a living being. Thunder rumbled, and the rain increased until it poured over us, pounding into my back. I grabbed Lira’s hand again and weaved us through the trees. Goddess, I hoped I remembered where the cabin was. With dark sweeping like a blanket over us and the rain falling in thick curtains, I couldn’t make out shit despite the edge my fairy sight gave me.
We sloshed through the undergrowth, Lira’s hand tight in mine, until lightning lit the sky again and I pointed to the huddling form of the building. “There.”
We ran harder, fighting against the storm. Lira tucked her face down, and I longed to pull out a coat to cover her. But we were almost to the building. When we made it, I pushed the door open and we stepped in, dripping puddles over the uneven boards of the floor.
I clicked the door shut behind us and shrugged off my bag. Lightning flashed, illuminating the spiderwebs and moss growing around the window, the lone bed and dusty fireplace.
“We’re staying here?” Lira asked, dismay seeping through her voice.
“Let me light a fire. It will seem better.”
