Followed by Fros(63)

I traced the white, woven lines of my storm with my index finger. “I just wanted to remember what it felt like to touch someone,” I said. A shiver coursed through my body, up my back and into my shoulders. “For a moment, I was scared I had forgotten. Thank you.”

He frowned, and after a minute, shook his head. “You will not come with me?”

“No, Sadriel.”

And he vanished.



That evening, or perhaps late afternoon, Lo came.

I recognized his knock—firm, quick, and loud—but he had to knock twice before I found the courage to answer the door.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, drawing on all my years acting out plays for friends and family, all my years of lying to fake a smile. I had been a good actress then, and judging by the levelness of my voice, I had not entirely lost the talent.

“I had my shift covered,” he said. “May I come in?”

“Of course.”

He walked in. I closed the door and poured oil on the fire.

“That isn’t necessary,” he said.

“I don’t mind.”

The coals glowed orange with the heat. I took my time with the fire, and Lo remained silent. Finally I stood and brushed off my skirt. “What is that?” I said, gesturing to his hand.

He lifted the book as though he had forgotten he carried it. “Garen’s Wish,” he answered, setting it on the table.

Again I smiled. “I had begun to think you had forgotten—”

“I did not know Faida was coming to the palace,” he interrupted, addressing the wall. “Imad extended the invitation without informing me.”

Why was he telling me this? Did it matter how Faida had made her way to the festival? I swallowed and poured as much effort as possible into controlling my response. “Faida? I met her, but you have nothing to explain to me.”

His dark eyes fell on me. “Misa—”

“She spoke to me, at the banquet,” I said, moving to the bed and folding the blanket, if only to keep my focus on something besides him. “She wasn’t scared, not even hesitant. She came right up to me and talked with me as if I were a normal person. She even thanked me for bringing water to her village! I can’t imagine a better woman for you, Lo. I wish you had told me about her.” I blinked rapidly, forbidding fresh tears. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Have you set a date?”

My voice quivered at that last word. I cleared my throat and tried to play it off as a shiver.

He snatched the blanket from my hands and dropped it onto the floor. He looked at me as though he had struck me and regretted it. “It is custom, in Zareed, for children to be sworn to one another.”

“I know your customs,” I lied, picking up the blanket. Keeping my eyes on the design. I took a deep breath to steady myself. “I’ve lived here for a year already.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So you have.”

“How is Imad?” I asked. He looked at me, his eyes hard. When he didn’t answer, I added, “Are the dissenters still a problem? Nothing happened at the banquet, did it?”

“I did not come here to talk about the banquet.”

I refolded the blanket. “It was just a question.”

Silence.

“Did you want your books back?” I asked, stepping past him to the bookshelf. “I’ve had them for so long . . .”

He seized my arm and stopped me, but the cold forced him to release me just as quickly. That alone almost broke me, but I would not cry in front of him. I pursed my lips and swallowed. Lo didn’t know—couldn’t know—how I felt about him. He had no obligation to me, and a wonderful woman in his future. He had such a future. I could never give him what Faida could.

“Misa,” he said, his voice accenting my nickname so beautifully, “I want to talk about Faida.”

“Is she ill?” I asked, feigning alarm. At least I hoped it sounded like alarm. “Are her brothers’ crops drying?”

“No—”

“Then you have nothing to explain to me, Lo,” I said, almost pleading. I trembled. But I only had to stay strong a little longer. “Thank you for the book,” I continued. “I’ll read it and let you know what I think, but I understand if you can’t visit as often. You’re captain of the guard, and well past marrying age, if I may say so.”

He looked at me. I couldn’t describe it beyond that. It was an unreadable gaze.

I just want you to be happy. Couldn’t he see that?

Silence lingered between us for several minutes. I could feel myself crumbling, and it was all I could do to pick up the pieces before they hit the floor.

“Then I will go,” he said finally. He crossed the room in long strides. Opened the door to torrents of wind.

I found my voice.

“Lo.”

He paused.

“That was why I didn’t see you, those two months,” I said, fingering the cubby of my bookshelf. “Because of Faida.”

His eyes met mine—the last time I would see them for a while. “She was part of it,” he answered, and closed the door behind him.

I managed to hold myself together for a moment longer—long enough for him to mount his camel and start back for the city—before I collapsed onto the floor and cried, droplets of ice rolling over Imad’s rugs.