ago that was. Time passes so strangely. And I slept for a little while when I first got here, but that wasn’t exactly a normal nap.”
“Since you are both still among the living, you require sleep.” Dikaios nudged his ribs. “It might be better if we all take a rest. The journey is difficult.”
Elam yawned again. “Just a short nap.” He knelt close to Naamah and was about to lie down, but he quickly rose again. “I’d better put some space between us.” As he walked about twenty paces away, putting Dikaios between himself and Naamah, the horse just watched, saying nothing.
Interlacing his fingers behind his head, Elam lay back and closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was asleep. At first, he knew a dream had begun, but the scenes absorbed his mind, making them come alive.
He was back in the brick kilns with Raphah, his fellow slave in the days before Nabal, the giant taskmaster, cruelly whipped him to death. They had just finished a day’s work and were washing their hands and faces in the underground spring. They scrubbed away kiln residue that had coated their bare arms, exposed by short-sleeved tunics necessary for the hot labors of brick making.
Nabal entered, Naamah at his side. “Nabal,” she said, pointing at Raphah, “take him to the antechamber.”
Jerking Raphah’s arm, the giant led the boy away. Raphah looked back at Elam and pressed his hands together in a prayer posture.
Naamah, wearing a silky black gown, slinked up to Elam and gazed into his eyes. Her lips pursed as she pressed close. “Elam,” she said, caressing the muscles rippling across his bare arm, “you have been strong. You have honored your father’s rules, and I’m sure he would be proud of you. He wouldn’t expect you to suffer.” She glanced briefly at a pair of shadows projected onto a rocky wall, two forms standing behind a partition, the larger one raising a whip. “Or your friends to suffer.”
Elam averted his eyes, keeping them trained on his day’s work, a tall stack of bricks still radiating heat and smelling of smoke. He tried to slide his arm away from Naamah’s fingertips, but the sight of Raphah’s imminent beating paralyzed him.
“You have something I want, Elam. This is my third visit, and it is not often that I can come here without Morgan’s knowledge. You won’t disappoint me again, will you?”
Crack! The whip’s cruel bark echoed from wall to wall, but no human cry followed.
Elam sucked in a breath. Raphah was holding his tongue. Brave, brave Raphah.
“There is no need for anyone to suffer,” Naamah continued, her fingers creeping toward his shoulder, “when pleasure is so close at hand.”
Elam’s cheeks burned. Prickles crawled across his skin from head to toe. He had to escape. Just run away. But where?
Crack! This time a muffled grunt blended with the whip’s sadistic echo. Raphah’s shadow collapsed, and Nabal’s silhouette began to raise the whip yet again.
“So, Elam …” She pinched his tunic and pulled him away from the wash basin. He shuffled his feet, following her tractive gait, still watching the shadows out of the corner of his eye. Naamah stopped next to his bed. She laid both hands on his chest and nestled her head between them. A subtle aroma from Naamah’s hair sweetened his rapid breaths. She sighed, sending warmth through his tunic. “What is your answer?” she asked, her voice cooing like a dove. “Will you give me what I desire?”
“No!” Elam shook his head violently and snapped open his eyes. A blue sky? Grass and flowers? He exhaled loudly. It was just a dream. He was back in the Bridgelands. But the familiar scent hovered in his nostrils. Naamah’s hair. The same gentle touch.
He glanced down at his body. She was there! One hand was on his chest, and her face was close to his neck but pulling away slowly. Were those fangs over her lip? He lurched to his feet and scuffled back, shouting, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Lying in the grass, Dikaios thrashed his body and lunged upright. “What? What did she do?”
Naamah rose slowly to her knees and stared at them, her cheeks awash in red. “I … I was trying to get close to you. I woke up all alone, and I was scared, so I wanted …” She covered her face with her hands and wept.
“She was after your life’s blood!” Dikaios yelled. “She was using her harlotries to seduce you so she could steal your