Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(6)

The two men concluded their transaction, and the guard was told to unlock the cell door and usher Xiala forward.

She started to speak, but Lord Balam, her unasked-for savior, cut his gaze to her. For a moment he stared, his eyes widening. She lifted her chin, a dare. His gaze fell to her feet.

“Where is her other shoe?” he asked.

The female guard shuffled forward and handed it over with a muttered explanation, and Xiala had to work to suppress a wild desire to gloat.

Soon enough, he was leading her out of the courtyard with its collection of prison cells, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was free.

She thought about bolting immediately, but she had no idea where they were. The neighborhood was unfamiliar, if typical of the countryside. The scent of eggs and corn cakes cooking flavored the air, and she was sure she could still smell the citrus fruit vendors’ wares, although she hadn’t spotted one. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten, and she was ravenously hungry. But she shoved her hunger down. If she wanted to eat, she would have to ask this Balam for the funds to do it with, and she would not. Not until she knew what he wanted.

“Who—?” she started.

“You made me come to Kuharan,” Balam said, interrupting her. He had a pleasant melodic voice and he said the words lightly, as if teasing a friend. “I do not enjoy Kuharan.”

“Who are you? And what in all the hells is a Kuharan?”

He lifted a hand to gesture around him. “This is Kuharan. We’re just outside the city in a small farming community. Do you not remember coming here?” The look he gave her, knowing full well her answer was no, made her flush hot. “Be lucky you did,” he said. “I don’t know that I could have bribed a city official as easily as I did this country one.” His lips quirked up. “She must have been very beautiful.”

Xiala flushed even hotter. “She was,” she said defiantly.

“The things we do for beautiful women,” he said with a knowing sigh.

She held her retort. She didn’t believe for a moment this man next to her had done anything foolish for a beautiful woman, or a beautiful man for that matter. Lord Balam looked much too controlled to be swayed by something as simple as pleasures of the flesh.

“Perhaps you did not know such love is forbidden here?” he asked smoothly.

Xiala spat. “For a city this size, you would think there wouldn’t be quite so many uptight prigs.”

“Ah, but we aren’t in the city.” He sighed, as if burdened. “But even in the city proper…” He left the thought unfinished, but Xiala knew the answer. “Is it different where you come from?” he asked, voice innocent. “Among the Teek?”

“Where are your people?” she asked, changing the subject. Where she came from and who she loved were none of his business.

He tilted his head. “People?”

“Servants. A palanquin. I thought lords like you didn’t have feet.”

He laughed. “I prefer to walk, and Kuharan is not so far for a morning walk.”

It was a lie. She guessed that he had come alone because he didn’t want anyone to know he was here. But why? She still didn’t know why he had come for her, or how he had even found her.

“You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“My name is Balam. Lord Balam of the House of Seven, Merchant Lord of Cuecola, Patron of the Crescent Sea, White Jaguar by Birthright.”

They all had titles like that, and his meant as little as the ones she’d heard before. “Am I supposed to care?”

“Well, I was hoping it would impress you,” he said dryly. “It would save us some time.” He smiled that smile again, or maybe he had never stopped smiling. “I know who you are, after all.” He paused to make eye contact so his meaning couldn’t be missed. “What you are.”

Of course he did. He’d come all the way to this place he hated to bail her out of jail. He had to know what she was.

“What is it you want, Lord of… Cats, was it?” she asked. “Rich men don’t talk to me unless they want something. And they certainly don’t bribe tupiles to get it.”

“We could start with a bit of respect,” he said mildly, “but that seems unlikely.”

“Highly.” She decided to get the basics out of the way. “Just so you know, I’m not selling my bones.”

Balam startled. “Your bones?”

She tried to gauge whether he was faking his surprise. He had said he knew what she was, which meant he knew she was Teek. Some men collected Teek bones as good-luck charms. A finger bone might bring you auspicious weather or a strong wind. Catch a Teek and carve her throat bone out, and it would guarantee a good catch in deep waters, they said. She thumbed the missing top joint of the little finger on her left hand. It was her own fault she’d lost the pinkie. She’d had too much to drink and trusted the wrong man, a pretty one with eyes like wet earth after a spring rain and hands that had slipped between her legs and made her… well, never mind that. Now she kept a dagger on her belt that seemed enough to ward off treasure seekers. The dagger she’d lost at some point last night, either left behind by accident or confiscated by the jail. Well, perhaps that was for the better. She wasn’t much for daggers. Hers was mostly for show, since if it ever came down to losing a body part again, she’d Sing her way out of trouble. Assuming she was sober enough to conjure her voice. People got discouraged by a dagger, but they got downright murderous if they thought you were trying to magic them with your Song.