Bound by Blood and Sand (3 page)

Lady Shirrad giggled again, as if it had been a joke and not an insult.

Elan took another few bites, then changed the subject again. “I hope you won't think this question is too rude, Lady, but until we arrived, I expected you to be…older. How did you come to be in charge here so young?”

Lady Shirrad's smile faltered for a heartbeat. When she began to talk, her voice was still light, but the bright tone rang false. “My mother died in childbirth. And my father, several years ago, he…I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Highest. My father was always very strange, and…I suppose my family has always been strange, but…”

Elan nodded. The current Aredann family had been installed here years ago—as a punishment. Shirrad's great-grandfather had angered Elan's grandmother but hadn't directly challenged the Highest's rule, so he couldn't be disavowed. Instead, Elan's grandmother had sent him to rule Aredann. True, being made a guardian was supposed to be an honor—but serving as guardian of an estate as removed as Aredann had meant the family had rarely been seen in the central cities again.

“When the drought started to become noticeable, several years ago, my father was convinced there was something wrong with the Well. I know that's impossible,” she said, hands folded on the table, the meal forgotten. “I know your family would never allow that to happen. It's a drought, that's all; even the Highest can't control that.”

“Of course,” Elan said, glancing at Desinn, whose expression was unreadable. The four Highest families had crafted the Well and protected the magic that kept water flowing from the Well to the reservoirs. Without the Well, the world would be lost, but it wasn't only the drought that was a problem. There were simply too many people in the world now, thousands and thousands more than the original Highest had intended the Well to provide for.

To protect the world as it was now, the Highest had decided to abandon outlying estates like Aredann. With people gone from them, the Well's water could be diverted back to larger reservoirs, areas that needed the water more. Changing the way the water flowed was a huge work of magic, which was why the Highest only did it in dire emergencies, but now it was necessary.

It was a brutal solution that left estates to be buried in the desert, and none of the Avowed who had stood as estate guardians and stewards had been happy about the relocation. Elan had sympathized with them—more than he should have. No one was allowed to question the Highest about the Well, not even their own families. Their decisions may have been cruel, but the Highest only ever acted to keep order and protect the Well. Kindness was a gesture they couldn't often afford.

“He thought he could find the Well himself,” Shirrad continued. “He took a search party into the desert, but…there was a sandstorm. It was enormous enough that we felt it, even here. Half our crops were buried, unsalvageable. And my father, he…he was lost.”

“I'm so sorry, Lady,” Elan said. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen, Highest. I'd only just returned from taking my vows at Danardae.”

Elan sagged on his cushion. Thirteen was far too young to rule over any town or city, even one as insignificant as Aredann. He gave her a sympathetic look and went back to his meal, but he was already thinking it over. Lady Shirrad's father had believed he could find the Well from Aredann. He must have had reason to. He must have found something—hopefully something still here, not lost with him in the desert.

Maybe Lady Shirrad knew what it was. She'd definitely never talk about it, with her situation as precarious as it was. She couldn't afford to look like she questioned the Highest. But once Elan had a chance to speak with her alone, he'd reassure her, and find out everything she knew. And Desinn would never know what was happening, until Elan was ready.

Lady Shirrad offered to show Elan and Desinn around Aredann after the meal, but Desinn declined, tired from all their traveling. Elan was just as exhausted, but even so, he said, “I'd love to see more of Aredann this evening, at least enough to start to learn my way around.”

Shirrad gave a shrill, nervous laugh but stood and gestured toward the hall. “I know Aredann is a small estate. It certainly can't compare to Danardae. But it is beautiful here, Highest.”

“So I can see already,” Elan agreed, eyeing the designs in the halls. The large, swirling patterns built up to peaks, their shapes echoing the arched hallway itself, dotted with the occasional burst of yellow or red flowers. Legend said Lord Aredann, the guardian the estate had originally been named for, had been an almost obsessive gardener and that under his rule, the estate had been blanketed by blossoms year round.

“It is remarkable what the mages were able to do, isn't it?” Shirrad asked, reaching out to drag a hand along the wall.

“It's a shame so much magic was lost after the War,” Elan said. And then, carefully, he continued, “One of the final battles was fought here at Aredann, wasn't it? If I remember my history right…”

“Yes!” Shirrad chirped.

“I'm fascinated by your estate's history. Are there any artifacts left from the battle?” Elan asked.

“Not many, I'm afraid,” Shirrad said. “It's hard to tell what was used in a magical battle—I suppose we're lucky the house was even left standing!”

“Yes, we are,” Elan agreed.

They turned down another long hall, one with enormous, empty windows. “But we do have the mosaic in the main hall that was created only a few years after the War, to celebrate Lord Aredann's victory. And oh!” She stopped short. “Of course he loved his garden. It's nothing to look at now, but…”

She gestured to a large, open arch, which led out into a courtyard. Elan squinted in the dark and started forward as his eyes adjusted, peering across the yard at the strange shapes of the bushes—

And he walked directly into something. It gave, and cool liquid hit his sandals. He jumped back, and Lady Shirrad crashed into him from behind. It took him a second to spot what he'd hit—a large water skin had been propped open on the path. He managed to steady himself and Lady Shirrad, while someone else scurried in the darkness—a barefoot servant girl.

No—servants would never go around barefoot. That was a sign of the Closest. He frowned in confusion as the girl hurried to save the rest of the water, but it was too late. A little still sloshed inside the skin, but the rest puddled and spread across the garden path. The Closest froze, still clutching the skin, then dropped into an awkward bow, shoulders hunched and gaze cast downward.

“Jae!” Shirrad shrieked, and pushed past Elan. “All that water! Blood and bones, how could you be so careless?”

Elan's vision had finally adjusted enough for him to see the Closest more clearly. He'd never seen one so closely before. Her hair was cut short, close to her scalp, and her clothes were filthy. “It was an accident, Lady. I was watering the garden….” She trailed off, looking down at her muddy footprints.

“You never should have left that open!” Shirrad yelled. “And now it's all wasted.” She turned to Elan, eyes wide and glistening as she said, “I'm so sorry, Grand Warden. We are
never
this careless with water. Please believe that.”

The Closest girl had sharp features and dark skin. Elan couldn't make out the color of her eyes, but her mouth hung half-open and her hands trembled. Shirrad raised her arm, and the Closest tensed, eyes screwed shut. The sound of the slap echoed through the courtyard, a sharp noise like a thunderclap. The Closest didn't react except to quiver in place, but Elan's gut twisted with horror. Back home, they'd never dream of striking one of their servants—but then again, they'd also never have a Closest inside the house or on its grounds. Their servants were all well paid. Some of them were even Avowed, working not for money but for a chance to impress the Highest families.

Lady Shirrad raised her hand again, and Elan reacted without thinking, grabbing her arm to stop her. She whirled around to face him, her lips twisted in an angry sneer that turned to shock when she remembered herself. She dropped her hand quickly and asked, “Highest?”

“What is she even doing inside like this?” he asked.

Shirrad shifted awkwardly, and finally explained, “With the drought being what it is…the servants have mostly left. I know it's…it's unusual to allow the Closest into the household, but…”

“I see,” Elan said.

“But I promise, I will see her punished for that waste,” Shirrad finished, her voice growing a little stronger as she spoke.

The Closest girl's eyes shut for a moment, and she looked away, defeated, silent. Something in Elan's gut twisted unpleasantly, and he said, “No, that's not necessary.”

“But we never waste water like that,” Shirrad insisted. “You
must
understand that. We—”

“I do understand,” he said. He was a water warden, after all; he knew the difference between waste and an accident. But Shirrad still looked nervous, so he sighed and said, “I'll take care of this.”

Shirrad glanced at the girl, then nodded. “Very well. Jae, go wait in His Highest's room until he's ready to deal with you.”

The Closest girl fled.

Jae felt as if she'd eaten a bowl of sand: her throat was dry, her stomach hurt, and she wanted to throw up. She sat on the windowsill and hunched over, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She'd spilled water in front of a grand warden, a member of one of the Highest families. The Highest had no mercy, and there was only one reason he would choose to discipline her in his quarters.

She sank into the bench at the windowsill, waiting, trying to calm down. It wasn't as if it mattered anyway. In a matter of weeks, maybe days, the Avowed would abandon Aredann and leave the Closest for dead. No punishment would compare to that, but she still couldn't stop shaking.

Long minutes later, his Highest walked in. Jae swallowed, tasted acid, and stood so she could bow as protocol demanded. Or maybe she should have knelt. The Curse didn't demand it, since it was only tradition, but she probably should've erred on the side of caution, shown extra deference.

Lord Elan threw her an unreadable glance, but if she'd broken with the protocol he expected, he didn't say anything about it. He shut the door behind him and undid the cord at the neck of his robe. He tossed the robe off thoughtlessly, leaving him in only a long, vivid green shirt and loose pants.

“Cursed heat, I don't know how anyone stands it out here,” he said as he sat on one of the cushions—or lounged, really, completely at home among the freshly cleaned pillows.

He gestured her back to where she'd been sitting, then tilted his head and looked her over intently. Jae crossed her arms over her chest, her heart beating too fast, wishing she could sink into the floor and disappear. But all she could do was wait.

Finally, he finished his examination. “What's your name?”

“Jae, Highest,” she murmured, not sure he'd be able to hear her from so far away. She glanced up to make sure he had, then went back to staring at the floor near his feet, then looked farther away. She didn't dare look any closer. She was already in trouble; she didn't want to make it worse.

“Jae,” he repeated. “It's so bizarre to see a Closest inside like this. It isn't done back home.”

She kept her gaze steady on the floor. He didn't sound particularly angry, but he could cause her just as much trouble in a good mood.

He gestured at the stone cistern at the edge of the room. “I'll have a drink.”

The Curse nudged her, and the base of her skull suddenly ached as if something had hit it, the Curse pain starting more quickly than it ever did with Lady Shirrad's orders. Especially tiny, flippant ones like that. Jae rushed to fill a mug and brought it to him, kept it clenched tightly until he took it, willing herself not to shake. She was here to be punished, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much she dreaded it.

He nodded at her and drank, then settled back down on the cushion, holding the mug lightly in his hand. She tried not to stare at it. Her throat was dry, and she'd barely had a drink all day.

She looked down at the floor again, thinking of Tal instead of Lord Elan. Tal would know what to do here—he'd silently smile, relax, somehow put Lord Elan at ease, make him think they were friends. Jae just had no idea
how.
She could never do that, not when all she wanted was to run for her life.

Lord Elan held the mug out to her, and she took it to pour the rest of the water back into the cistern. But she'd barely taken a step toward the tank when he said, “You may have the rest, if you want it.”

She turned to stare at him sharply. It didn't sound like he was joking, and he wasn't smirking at her. He just looked a little bored, as if he really didn't care whether she drank it or not. As if
any
Closest would turn down even a few mouthfuls of water after a day of work. But why would he offer her a drink if he intended to punish her? Lady Shirrad would never waste water that way, and he was a water warden.

She didn't give him a chance to change his mind. She drank, and the water soothed her throat, if not her nerves. She set the mug down by the cistern and waited. Now when she watched him, it was with curiosity. He tossed his head, shaking black curls out of his eyes, and sighed. “If I miss my servants for anything, it's chatter. I've heard people say ‘as quiet as the Closest' before, but I never realized how cursed silent you really are.”

She waited for him to ask her a question, something she could answer, and he frowned at her.

Then: “Oh!” and laughter. “If I give you permission to speak, then can you?”

“Yes, Highest,” she said.