On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [65]
Kevla felt cold. He did not know, yet, about her newly discovered ability with fire. She licked her lips and waited for him to continue.
“I don’t know what they mean, but somehow I know they’re not from the kulis. Nor, I think, are your dreams. Father told me to never mention them again. He fears he would have to denounce me.”
Kevla gasped. “He wouldn’t!”
“He would. He would have to, if it became general knowledge.”
“Then you must never speak of it,” she said promptly.
“Except to you. I can tell you anything.”
Her heart swelled at the words, and she realized that it was time for her to confide her own secret.
“I have something to tell you, too,” she said. “Or rather show you.” She rose and went to the small brazier. A small bundle of dried grasses lay inside, more for decoration than for any real light or heat. She stood in front of it, her heart racing. She desperately hoped she was right, that the power of their bond would stretch to accommodate even this.
“I’ve been having more than dreams,” she said, meeting his eyes evenly. “I have been able to…to do things.” She pointed at the bundle.
“Burn,” she said.
At once, the grasses burst into flame, burning quickly, writhing and turning to black soot within seconds. Jashemi stared, open-mouthed, and did not speak. Kevla’s heart sank. She had misjudged him. He would scream and they would come for her and—
“When did this start?” His voice was astoundingly calm, although his still-wide eyes betrayed his shock.
“A few days after you left,” she whispered. “I was having trouble getting a fire started, and I said, ‘Burn, curse you,’ and this happened.” She gestured at the dying fire. “I can make the room warmer, too. Jashemi, I’m scared! I don’t know what’s happening to me!”
He looked at her searchingly and then held out his arms. For a moment, she could not move. They had crossed one barrier when she had embraced him in the caverns. Now, if she permitted him to hold and comfort her, they would cross another. Slowly, she went to him, and his arms closed gently around her. She could smell the sweet oils mixed with sweat on his skin, feel the warmth emanating from his slim boy’s body as she rested her head on his chest. Kevla closed her eyes and accepted.
“I don’t know what’s happening to either of us, Kevla. But at least, we have each other.” He folded her even closer. “We will always have each other.”
Chapter Thirteen
Strange, Sahlik thought as she bent to stir the pot that hung over the fire, how fast the years fly when one is old.
It did not seem so long ago that Kevla had arrived at the House of Four Waters as a skinny, big-eyed girl of ten. Now, Sahlik rose and regarded the woman that girl had become.
Kevla had blossomed like a desert flower when given proper food and shelter. The long, lustrous black hair was still kept in a braid, but that was the only resemblance between girl and woman.
The once-scrawny child was now almost as tall as her father and brother. Despite the best efforts of the seamstress to create clothing that disguised Kevla’s figure, it was apparent to anyone with eyes that beneath the shapeless rhia was a body that was slender yet ripe with womanly curves at hip and breast. Her face was exquisite, almost as perfect in its proportions as a carved statue’s. But no statue could match the beauty of Kevla’s face when it lit up in a smile.
Had Kevla been the khashim’s legitimate daughter, she would have had suitors clamoring for her hand from sunrise to sunrise. Had she even been permitted to continue in Yeshi’s service as a handmaiden, it was likely she would have been well-matched despite the stigma of Bai-sha. As it was, the men looked, the men lusted, but there was no talk of marriage.
Nor did Kevla express interest in such things. She appeared content in her role as low-caste servant, moving with grace from chore to chore. It seemed enough for her to have Sahlik and her work.
And, of course, Jashemi.
The youth had matured into