A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)

Chapter Fifty-Eight

When I breathe, Kane surrounds me.

When Kane comes closer, I pull my arms around him.

Not letting go.

Never letting go.

As I am his anchor, he is mine. Equals. A god and a mortal hero transcended into a man and a woman, simply lovers. Not a contract. 

A promise.

"Ode..." words rumble past parted lips, scars forgotten. Pain replaced by something other. Sweeter.

I look back up, earth-toned hands through silver hair. Blank eyes staring into the blood-moon. Obsidian skin gone quiet.

Not my god. Not milord.

Simply one word I whisper.

"Kane."

***

When Ratu finally reaches the Ngayoh estate, almost entirely abandoned outside Rahasia's wall, she peers in through a window. From the looks of it, Serkan's drunken himself to oblivion, all his bruises and gashes covered in salves and strings of hasty bandages. Arno, on the other hand, has his eyes closed on one of the chairs nearest the kitchens, a half-drunk mug of mead near his open palm. His jaw is slack. Most likely drunk too.

She hops over the windowsill and goes for the cellar with their scant supply of grain and liquor. Unsurprisingly, the men broke into the liquor first. Food for survival, and liquor for living. Rolling her eyes at their disorganization, she digs beneath the bottommost sack of rice and finds it. The chest with all her belongings in it from before she ever got here. The belongings of the infamous Queen of Thieves.

Fumbling with the latch, it was a joke that Serkan would even try and lock it, she easily picks it. Of course, she must break a couple needles first, she's rusty with all this pretending to be a maidservant shit. Finally, though, she throws back the cover and finds her possessions. They smell slightly like fermentation, no surprise there why, but for the most part, they were made with good, stolen money and lasted the test of time. She lifts them out of the chest one by one, cradling them almost lovingly in her palms. Bracers. A lightweight metal suit that could be worn beneath clothing just in case you suspected somebody would try to literally stab you in the back at the next pickup. A dark, wine-colored batik sash that would cover her mouth as well as her hair from too-curious eyes, beaded with the tell-tale mark of the dragon, devouring itself.

And the best of the best, her knives.

She unsheathes them, marveling at her reflection in their still-shining glory. She tucks those in alongside the blander kitchen knives she'd acquired, and then runs back to the window, shutting the cellar door behind her.

But her nostalgia's gotten to her head. This time, when she hops over the windowsill, dressed in her queenly attire, she hasn't noticed that Arno's no longer unconscious.

In fact, his eyes are open, tracking this reborn Queen of Thieves.

Watching.

As soon as he cannot see her anymore, he peels away from the shadows, hops over the window, and he, too, becomes one with the night.

***

Hey Champions,

So close to Halloween! I've been watching a string of scary movies like crazy. I'm all for the ghosts, the villains, and the monsters galore. :)

Best

Sophia