Spin the Dawn(53)

“Don’t all journeys change you?”

“It isn’t the same.” He leaned forward. “I, too, once journeyed beyond the stars.”

“What did you find?”

His voice turned lethally soft. “That it’s just the beginning.” He stood and walked away. “If ever you change your mind and want to go back, say the word. I will not question it.”

“What do you mean, it’s just the beginning?” I called after him.

But of course, Edan did not reply.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Edan was back to his usual cheerful self the next day, and to my relief, he said nothing about our conversation the night before. I was eager to resume our travels. The sooner we completed our journey, the sooner I could get back to the palace to make the dresses, and relieve myself of the heavy burden of securing peace for A’landi.

The camels were faster than our horses, and a good deal more pleasant to ride. I didn’t even mind the smell. The hump took some getting used to, but my camel—whom I named Milk—wasn’t half as finicky as Pumpkin.

“Milk?” commented Edan on my camel’s new name. His silhouette was dark and lean against the sun. “I’m naming mine Snowfoot.” He gestured at the white fur over his camel’s hooves.

“What about Pestilence?” I suggested sweetly.

Edan’s lips bent into a grin. “Teasing me now, are you? That’s a good development.”

I reached to pet Milk’s small, petal-shaped ears. Her long, honey-colored lashes batted when I touched them, and an irritated snort escaped the thin slits of her nostrils. I sat back, chastened. Milk walked with a steady enough gait that I could take out my sketchbook and start drafting the dress of the sun. I remembered helping Mama design a dress for our statue of Amana at home when I was younger, but sewing the dress from scratch would be different from fitting one onto a statue. The tales said little about how Amana’s dress looked, except that the skirt flared like rays of the sun. That was enough of a clue to start fleshing out some ideas.

As we progressed into the Halakmarat Desert, sweat trickled down the crook of my neck. I wasn’t made for the desert, as the camels were—or as Edan was, apparently. While I suffered and reddened under the sun, his smooth, bronze skin didn’t even sweat.

It made me wonder about him. Like me, Edan kept his satchel always close at his side. Only, his was full of vials of various powders and liquids I couldn’t begin to name. Like my spools and needles, I supposed. We each had our craft.

I’d begun to understand how his eyes changed color with his mood. Black when he was angry, irises like thunderclouds. Yellow when he used magic—with pupils as round as full moons. Blue when he was calm, like the pale sky above us.

I’d thought I’d learn more about his past now that we were traveling companions, but he’d only grown more mysterious. He always disappeared at dusk, and he was always awake before I was, despite his claim that he detested rising early. And these days, he always looked so tired.

“You’ve been quiet,” I remarked.

“Talking depletes my energy,” Edan replied, flipping a page of his book. “I dislike the desert more than most terrains.”

“Why?”

“It’s dry. And windy. Then there’s the sun. The desert is where his power shines brightest, where he reminds you how small and insignificant you are. Over time, he’ll burn away everything you have, from your hope to your dignity, to your very life.” He stopped, his lips twisting to an apologetic grimace. “I suppose I’ve spent too much time in deserts.”

I mustered a smile. The heat was intense. “I thought you didn’t believe in A’landi’s gods.”

“I’m not A’landan,” Edan said. “But the sun is worshipped in many lands. He’s a brilliant, brutal deity. And now we are in the heart of his kingdom.”

“Was it always a desert here? I heard that A’landi was once surrounded by forest.”

Edan put down his book, and the sinking sun left us in shadow. Dusk was coming. “Why do you ask?”

“Because…” My voice trailed off. “I thought you’d know. You seem to have been here before….”

“I’ve been many places before.”

“So you’ve said,” I replied, remembering how I’d thought he’d looked too young to have accomplished so much—that his boasts were merely hot air. Now I wasn’t so sure. “When were you here?”

His eyes caught a glint of sunlight, and he turned, grinning at me. “The more I tell you, the less charming you’ll find me.”

I rolled my eyes, but a bloom of heat prickled my neck. “I don’t find you charming.”

“Ah, then there’s even less to be said.”

I wasn’t giving up that easily. “I heard you’ve served Emperor Khanujin’s family for three generations.”

“It’s impolite to ask a man his age,” Edan said, a note of amusement touching his voice. “Why are you so curious about me all of a sudden?”

I nudged Milk a few steps forward, until we were beside Edan. A memory flashed of the little flute and the wooden horse figurine I’d seen in Edan’s chamber—were they remnants of his past, of the boy he must have been once?