“Sorry to disturb you,” says Indah. “You’ve both been asleep awhile.”
Her daughter, Jala, naps in my arms. I came to their chamber for a visit, as I do most days after I teach my art course, and sat down to rock the baby to sleep. “I must have dozed off.”
“You were mumbling.”
My legs ache. I can still recall that eerie cackle.
“I was dreaming.” I say no more, unwilling to give credence to my nightmare by reliving its horrors, and peer down at the bundled infant.
“Jala sleeps soundly with you,” Indah notes, her tone pleased.
She has hinted more than once that Jala and I were connected in a past life. More than once I have wondered if Jala’s little body holds my best friend’s reincarnated soul. Delusional as it may be, I like the notion that Jaya has returned from the Beyond. I appreciate that speculation more than when Rajah Tarek declared I was the reincarnated soul of the fire-god’s hundredth rani. Even though I yearn for more respect from my people, mercifully, his grand assertion did not stick.
I kiss Jala’s downy head and pass her to Indah. The baby wakes, her face scrunching in protest. Her grouses work up to mewling cries. The noise tugs away the final tendrils of my nightmare, save only Deven’s fear when he slipped away. Nothing can clear that from my memory.
“Are you not meeting Deven tonight?” Indah asks.
My gaze zips out the open balcony at the dusky sky. “What time is it?”
“Just past sunset.” Indah’s response follows me to the door. “That’s why I woke you. I thought you’d want to see him.”
“I do.” I thank her and dash down the corridor to my chamber. Natesa reclines on my bed and snacks on a mango from Deven’s food tray.
“There you are,” she says. “How was your day?”
Deven is not here yet, so I sit with her and steal a piece of fruit too. “Well enough. My art pupils are learning how to sketch people. They’re fascinated by the fire-god Enlil. He’s all they want to draw.”
“They’re young women infatuated with perfection.”
“I was once taken with Anu,” I admit. “But I’d never seen a real man. These girls have seen plenty.”
“Anu and Enlil aren’t men—they’re gods. It’s difficult not to be enraptured.” Natesa stretches her toes near a stack of books at the foot of the bed. “These came from the Hiraani Temple for you. Priestess Mita couldn’t find you so I brought them.”
I forgot I sent a correspondence to the distant Sisterhood temple asking for their texts about the Void. “Thank you. I’ll start them tonight. Aren’t you supposed to be at your inn?”
Natesa swings her legs over the side of the bed. “Yatin and I decided that can wait. I’ll hardly see him if I’m living in the city and he’s here.”
She rises to go. I should be pleased she is staying, but the feeling of wrongness from earlier returns stronger.