The Winds of Khalakovo - Bradley P. Beaulieu [178]
The same emotions took hold of her. She pulled him tight against her chest and ran her nails down his back. He thrust harder. She pulled his hair and bit his neck. Each thrust felt like an accusation. She cried out, knowing in her heart it was true. She had strayed from the path they had started on together, and after this night, they would walk on paths that would never converge, only cross.
As he spent himself inside her, releasing an urgent groan through clenched teeth, she held him tight and gripped his waist with her legs and pulled him deep inside her and surrendered a muffled cry of her own into his long black hair.
Slowly, they fell from the heights to which they had risen, and soon they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
When Rehada woke in the early morning hours, Soroush was snoring softly next to her. There was no light coming into the cavern, and the fire had gone cold, so she lit the darkness with the gem held within her circlet. Soroush’s face was filled with worry; she could tell from his eyes that he was dreaming.
As softly as she could, she pulled on her clothes and left the cave. The wind outside was cold. The ephemeral summer of the islands was coming to a close once more, and soon the winds of autumn would descend upon them, a harbinger of the bitter winds yet to come. The eastern horizon was awash in indigo, and it would soon be light. She had to be far away from here by the time he woke.
She had just started down the trail leading toward the lowland forest below her when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.
Soroush stood naked at the mouth of the cave.
She had been sure last night that he had decided to let her go, but as he stood there, his eyes judgmental and his stance rigid, she wondered whether he had changed his mind. She wondered whether, once she had given him what he wanted, he would kill her as he had done to so many traitors to the cause.
She realized that she didn’t care. If he would kill her, then it would be so. And yet, another part of her hoped that he would succeed. It was why, despite her better judgment, she had given him the azurite stone.
She turned and began walking away.
“I know where he is,” Soroush said. “I can feel him. We will have him before the day is out.”
She stopped in her tracks. She did not turn around, however. She couldn’t find it in herself to look at him—whether it was from fear of what he would do or a doubt that she lacked conviction to leave him she didn’t know. She realized in those small moments of silence just how lonely Soroush must be if he would call to her, even now, hoping that she might return.
“You need only one stone, then,” she said.
“Neh.”
A chill ran down her spine. She turned, slowly, to find Soroush holding a rounded opal, beautiful to behold even in the thin morning light.
“How long have you had it?”
“Months,” he said simply. “I liberated it on Rhavanki when the first of the hezhan was summoned.”
The pieces began forming quickly within Rehada’s mind. “When will it happen?”
“Tomorrow.”
One day, then. One day was all that stood between Soroush and the culmination of his plans.
She turned away from him, knowing she must leave now. As she continued down the rocky trail, she could feel him watching her. She could feel the bond they once shared fading, slipping through her fingers like sand, and she was not at all sure that this was what she wanted.
But she had chosen, and so had he.
She headed south among the leafy trees as the sun touched the horizon. She had thoughts of returning to Iramanshah, but the truth was that she had no idea how she might be received. There was no telling what Muwas might have told them. It was ironic—though not surprising—that the people from whom she had worked so hard to distance herself, her own people, were not the ones she could turn to in this time of desperate need.
Her thoughts turned to Ashan and Nasim and