Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“The oracle has good advice,” I say, even though I do not like the idea of leaving Tia alone. But going to the oracle could also give me the opportunity to steal Tia away, to get her back to the surface.
I am not ready for it, but I must consider it.
“Do not bother with the oracle.” He takes a hefty swig from his cup. “If you cannot resonate to a female when you are the only one visiting her, it will never happen. Just keep going to her. Touch her. Woo her. Encourage her khui.” Bel’eb the Mighty sets his goblet down. “But not tonight. You must continue your duties as normal even though she is here.”
My duties? Does he truly expect me to go fishing and help with the food harvesting while Tia sits in the dark and waits for me? It feels an impossible thing to ask. Even now I want to go back to her side. “How can I possibly focus on anything? You have stolen a stranger from above. A different kind of stranger! A beautiful, intelligent, female one. And now I am supposed to pretend nothing is happening?”
“That is correct,” my father tells me in a tight voice. “You must act as if nothing is amiss. You must pretend nothing in your world has changed, simply because the rebels watch everything I do closely. They watch everyone I speak with, everyone I encounter. That extends to you, my son. Or do you want the rebels to know she is here? Do you want them to rise up and free her? Take her away from you before you have even had the chance to resonate to her?”
I grit my teeth. The thought of another approaching Tia makes my tail twitch furiously. “No.”
“Then you do as I say.” He narrows his eyes at me. “And be grateful.”
Grateful. I have many emotions in me right now, but I’m not certain if any of them are gratitude. I am angry at him, worried that he breaks the rules he established, the ones that the rebels despise so. I am angry at how Tia is being treated. I am angry that she is even here…and elated at the same time.
And because I am already growing obsessed with her, I know I will do as he says and somehow go about my day as if normal…because I do not want So’ran the Bitter to discover her and steal her away. “Then I am late to go fishing.”
“You are. You should go. And hope that you have better luck tomorrow. Give her the pink-capped mushrooms. Those have been known to encourage a reluctant khui.”
Drug her? Again? I think not. Appalled at my father’s suggestion, I hide my reaction and give him a stiff nod instead. There’s no point in arguing with him. I exit his quarters, passing by his guards without meeting their curious gazes. For all that I hate his instructions, Bel’eb the Mighty is right about one thing. The Village of Those Who Remain is smaller than it has ever been, and everyone knows everyone. No one can spit without the entire cavern hearing about it.
I must be twice as careful if I am to conceal Tia’s presence.
To keep her as mine and only mine.
Even though I want nothing more than to return to Tia’s side, I force myself to go down to the lake with my fishing equipment. My thoughts are full of Tia, and the stranger R’jaal who even now resonates to another female. Are they together? Will she be crushed to hear he has mated to another? I want to protect her from that even as jealousy eats at my thoughts.
I make my way down to the calm surface of the underground lake, hopping easily down the rocky shelving that leads to the water’s edge. The other fishers are there, casting their lures, and all glance up as I approach, the ripples of their coloring acting as silent acknowledgment.
“Where have you been?” Wen’dit the Fisher calls out, eyeing me from his spot on the shore.
I have to be careful what I say. Wen’dit is friendly with So’ran the Bitter. He might even be one of the rebels. So I grimace and rub my abdomen, feigning illness. “Gut sickness. I am better now.”
His brows go up but he nods. Gut sickness is just about the only sickness one can claim without making others panicked. Everyone has had a bad mushroom from time to time, or a bad bite of lizard meat. It happens. It is other sicknesses that will stir unrest and make word travel from home to home.
Fishing, at least, allows me to settle in and relax. There is a favorite spot I have down near the water’s edge, and I move there, letting my camouflage change the shade of my skin to match the rocks I stand upon. I bait my line with remnants of fish from several meals ago, weight the cord, then cast it into the water. I allow it to trail along the bottom of the lake itself, looking for the fish that use scent rather than sight, the ones with the tiny, useless legs tucked under their bodies, and the white, milky eyes. I cast my line, running it slowly along the bottom, then cast it again.