claimed she was guilty of doing something horrible when all she had been doing was trying to protect one of her own, the man she loved. Loved, not loves. Or at least she wished that were so. She wished with everything inside of her that she could just turn off her feelings. Myanin wanted to purge her heart of every feeling she’d ever given to Thad, but that wasn’t how love worked. You couldn’t simply switch it off. She hoped the feelings would fade over time. But then, she’d loved him for more than a century. It had never faded, no matter how much or how little she saw him.
“Did you hear me?” Lyra’s voice interrupted Myanin’s thoughts, bringing her back to the present. The very awful present. She’d been relegated to a servant. Her status as a veil guardian had been stripped. Her necklace that connected her to the elders had been taken, which was just another slap in the face as only warriors were given the necklace. Now she was beating rugs and serving the elders’ lunch.
“What did you say?” Myanin asked.
“Once you’re done beating the rugs, I have something for you to deliver to Synica.”
It had been a week since she’d been assigned her new duties, and she’d yet to be let out of anyone’s sight. A week since she’d had her heart ripped out by the male she’d loved her entire life.
“A guard will accompany you,” Lyra added.
Bubble burst. She should have known better than to think they would let her have a moment's peace. Visiting Elder Synica’s home was not something she wanted to do with or without a guard. Synica could discern truth. The last thing Myanin needed was the powerful djinn elder touching her and finding out what she had planned. Myanin would just have to be careful not to let the woman get close.
Myanin rolled up the rugs one by one and dragged them outside. “Who in the bloody hell needs fifteen rugs?” she muttered under her breath as she unrolled the first one and hung it on the fence in front of Lyra’s home. Myanin took the rug beater and began to pound it against the mat. With the first strike, a cloud of dust showered her, and she had to step back as the fifty years’ worth of dirt settled in her nasal passages and eyes. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her, attempting to clear the air. “Damn you, Thad,” she growled and attempted to wipe her face and spit the dirt from her mouth. When she finally felt like she could breathe and was no longer coughing in between each breath, Myanin took her shirt and pulled the neck up over her mouth. Then she stepped right back up to the wretched rug and began beating it again. There was a new kind of fervor to her movements as she let her anger channel into her task.
One rug after another, Myanin beat them. And one after another, her rage built. She was a djinn guard, not a bloody servant. She was supposed to be protecting the veil from any enemies or dumb humans. Instead, she was taking orders as if she were an indentured servant with little to no value.
“Not for long,” she whispered to herself as she continued to beat the filthy rug. There was no way in hell she was going to continue to be the prisoner of her own people. She would get free, and the goddess help Thadrick when that happened.
Three hours, fifteen rugs, and two blistered hands later, Myanin was finally done with her task. The guard, Oto, walked a step behind her as they headed for Synica’s home. Myanin carried a wooden box. On the front was a dial with six numbers that individually rolled. Lyra had narrowed her eyes when she handed the box to Myanin and said, “Do not even bother to attempt to figure out the code.”
As if she was stupid enough to try and break into a locked box with a guard staring over her shoulder. Then again, she’d been stupid enough to believe that Thadrick could love her back, so perhaps Lyra had reason to think her that dim.
When they finally reached the elder’s home, Oto knocked on the ornate wooden door. The front of the door was carved with a forest scene. In the center sat the all-seeing eye. As if they needed a reminder that Synica was a seer who could not