Spin the Dawn(93)

“Bandur…was your teacher, wasn’t he?” I asked finally. “The one who became a demon.”

At first I thought he hadn’t heard me, he was so slow to reply. “Yes.”

I leaned over to touch Edan’s arm. My throat grew thick with emotion, and I swallowed. “How did he—”

“There are many types of demons, Maia. Some are born, or cursed. Not all begin as men or enchanters or even as animals. But guardians such as Bandur are among the strongest of demons and are always enchanters who have broken their oaths. Bandur killed the man he was sworn to serve—the man who owned his amulet. As punishment, he was forced to become the guardian of the Forgotten Isles for all eternity. Or until another took his place.”

“And now you will become the next guardian of the islands,” I whispered.

Edan gave a sad laugh at my horror. “Don’t worry yourself over it, xitara.” He kissed my cheek so softly I almost didn’t feel it. “I would far rather endure this fate than allow Bandur to possess your soul.”

A part of me shattered. My gut twisted and churned, and I couldn’t hold in my emotions. I reined in Opal and threw my arms around Edan’s neck. “You stupid man!” I cried. I held his cheeks and drew him close so our foreheads touched. “Promise me now we’ll find some way to fight this. Promise me you aren’t going to turn into a demon…like Bandur.”

Edan pushed me away gently. “I love you, Maia. My life has been long, so let me do something good for you. You will become the greatest tailor in A’landi, and you will find some lucky boy to marry—”

“I won’t.”

“Be sensible,” he said, squeezing my hands. “I cannot give you a future. You will forget me. I can make that happen.”

I jerked my hands away from him, stung. “Don’t you dare!” A sob wracked me, and my chest throbbed. Edan drew me to him and held me tight, kissing my cheek, then my neck.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, twisting out of his arms. I needed air. I needed to be away from Edan. “What about all your promises?” I couldn’t bring myself to speak—of the shop we’d open together by the ocean, of waking every morning to the sound of Edan’s laugh, of sewing to the song of his flute, of the towers of books strewn beside my looms and frames as I grew old with him. My mouth went dry, the loss of a dream I’d finally dared to hope for swelling in my throat.

I was hurt and angry—at myself and Edan and Lady Sarnai and Emperor Khanujin. I wanted to reach into my trunk and rip Lady Sarnai’s dresses to shreds. They were the cause of everything—if I hadn’t gone on this journey to make them, none of this would have happened.

Now Edan was condemned to be a demon.

All because of me.

Dusk fell, and Edan the hawk tried to perch on my shoulder a few times, but I waved him away until he disappeared. I didn’t look back to wonder where he was.

I held in another sob. My body ached, and my eyes were raw from weeping. I was so tired. From the raid, from Bandur, from being so close to the stars.

From knowing that I was about to lose the boy I loved.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


Once we were out of the canyon, Edan and I traveled for days without seeing any signs of civilization, until we finally came upon a monastery. Wedged between two great willow trees, it had a roof whose edges curled out like wings and a bronze bell that rang from a pillared courtyard by the entrance.

I didn’t know whether to be hopeful for a warm meal and bed that night or anxious that we would have to deal with company. Edan and I had been riding in silence, him behind me, keeping a careful distance. Every time I stole a glimpse at him, his arms were folded over his lap, hands only moving to push his dark, unruly curls out of his eyes. I wished he would at least whistle or hum, but he didn’t dare. Even his shadow didn’t touch mine.

“You should get a good night’s rest,” he said, his voice crackly from disuse. “The monks will take you in.”

I inhaled. The air was crisp, fragrant with pine and dew, and the shadows drifted west as the world slowly tilted toward night. “What about you?”

“Magic and religion have been at odds for centuries. I doubt a monastery would welcome me with open arms.”

“I’m not going in if you aren’t.”

Edan overlooked my petulance. “Does that mean you want me to go in with you?”

I wouldn’t answer, and he reined Rook toward the monastery.

We left the horses outside. There was a modest stables next to the grounds, well supplied with hay and water for Opal and Rook. Edan hid our weapons under a bush nearby.

I saw the monks before we reached the gates, outside sweeping the monastery’s wide stone steps. Their heads were shaved, and they wore plain muslin cloaks over their robes. They greeted us with polite bows, but Edan was right—the senior monk eyed him suspiciously. Still, he did not turn us away.

We left our shoes outside, and one of the younger monks brought us water to wash our feet. A thread of saffron floated in the wooden bowl, scenting the air. I dipped my toes, shivering as the cool water washed over my skin.

Edan tried reaching for my hand, but I shoved his away. I saw his jaw stiffen, his mouth drawing in a tight, cautious line, and the twinge in my heart sharpened. I was hurting him, but I couldn’t help it. Deep down, I yearned to have his arms around me, to have his warm breath touch my hair and his heart beat against mine. But every time Edan’s promise to Bandur bubbled up in my memory, a flare of anger burned deep in me.