The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,73

here, nestled in between two branches of the river, where it runs most swiftly.”

“So it works like the sky-steel?” North asks, watching me curiously. “Keeps you safe from mist-storms?”

I nod. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but for the most part, yes. That is also why many of my people—the riverstriders, to be specific—have made their homes on the water and rarely leave the byways of the forest-sea and the river itself.”

“So your rituals honor the water?” His voice is a little tentative, as if, for the first time, he’s considering the fact that his attitude toward my beliefs might actually affect my feelings.

I find myself smiling at that, if not what he’s actually said. “In a way. Water from the two rivers, from the place where they split, is diverted here.” I gesture toward the pool, where troughs for the two rivers feed into the pool, keeping it brimming. “When I bathe here it symbolizes the living divine uniting her people the way the waters mix here and become one river again.”

North glances at me for permission, then dips his fingers into the pool with a little smile. “Nice and warm.”

“They’re heated by a natural spring below the temple.” I reach for my cup, and the sweet wine it contains, so I can sip at it while watching North over its rim. “These rituals are some of my favorite parts of my calling.”

“Mine too,” North replies fervently, his attention on the steam rising from the pool—then, seeming to hear what he’s said, he stiffens and looks up apologetically. “I mean—” But the spice in the pastries must catch up with him, as he bursts into a fit of coughing.

Torn between alarm and amusement, I lean forward and hold out my cup, splaying my fingers over the rim so he can grasp its base. He nods his gratitude, the paroxysm slowing enough for him to take a drink. Once he’s gotten himself under control, he takes another sip, slower this time, eyes downcast at the cup.

My amusement fades as I watch him, for his face has grown serious, a few dark curls falling forward into his eyes as he traces his fingertips around the rim of the vessel, where my own lips rested not long before.

When he looks up, his gaze is searching. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

My heart gives a painful lurch, as my first thought is for the prophecy, and the role I believe he is to play—the role I don’t think he would understand, not without reading the scroll, not without feeling destiny for himself.

Then it hits me, and I gulp a breath.

“You mean, that I am a goddess among my people?” I buy myself a little time with the question, half-distracted by the way his fingers circle the edge of the cup again and again. I open my mouth to answer him, but nothing comes.

Noticing where my attention is, he holds out the cup in return, for me to take it back. “I have a guess,” he says, as my fingers close around the rim of the cup, which has been warmed by his touch.

But when I would have taken it back, he holds on to it, making me look back up at him. He’s watching me, an odd look on his face—his thick eyebrows are drawn in, the brown eyes curious. His expressive mouth is curved just a little in a kind of interested fascination I’ve never seen before.

“I think I must be the first person you’ve ever met who didn’t instantly know who you were,” North goes on, holding me captive by my grasp on the cup—though I could let go, I don’t, and the smooth brass under my fingers is electric. “I think you don’t have many people who treat you like a person, rather than a goddess. It would be easy to assume you were hiding things from me for some sinister reason, but … I wonder if maybe you were just hiding them because it was the first time you could.”

With both our arms outstretched, it’s almost like we’re holding hands—except, of course, the surface under my fingertips is metal. I swallow. “The way you spoke about magic—the way you dismissed it—I knew you could not understand what it means to be divine, not then. You would think me a fool.”

“I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to tell me,” North admits with a thoughtful squint. “I’m sorry if I made you feel … It’s clear magic is a