Chapter 22—Homecoming

“Mother, are you sure you didn’t…um…”

The Genie sighed. “Why is romance always on the mind? You all ask the same thing.”

The daughter she had chosen to visit that night in her dreams ducked her head sheepishly. She had the same red hair and golden eyes all her daughters had inherited from her via the magic, but the way her mouth curved in an apologetic smile and round features came from him. Without the magic, she would’ve been a practical copy of him and nothing like the Genie.

And it was those features that moved the Genie to answer truthfully for the first time.

“If I loved him, I loved him enough to not attach him to someone like me. Forget dead, I’m a complete bitch.”

The girl looked up, those eyes, so much like his, wide with surprise.

The Genie allowed herself to feel just a bit more of the softness within her heart.

“Love isn’t about mating and jealousy,” she told her daughter. “If he taught me anything, it is that love is a deep and sincere desire for someone else’s happiness, as well as to be with them. Being with me would not make him happy. It’s yet another reason why I gave up the ability to manifest to the living. Only the magic connecting me to you, my precious daughters, allows me to visit you in your dreams and linger behind on this earth to watch over and teach you. I think he suffered enough under me as it is. It is the least I can do for him to allow him to find his true love.”

Her daughter considered this, tracing her finger through the threads of the carpet she had imagined in this dream to sit on. It was rich with purples and reds, both colors rare and luxurious. But then, in a dream the Genie could create whatever her babies desired.

The girl frowned. “Is there even such a thing as true love?”

The Genie smirked.

“Only if you make it true.”

***

The Soan dragged the three exhausted escapees of Hrathbern far enough to find a hill they could put between them and the eyesore before calling it quits for the night. They didn’t bother with a fire. Once they’d tied the horses to a dried bushy tree, they threw their blankets on the sand and called it good. But before Einar and Kyanna could collapse with the rest of them, all five Soan barked them away.

“We don’t want to hear your sappy reuniting.”

“Make up somewhere else.”

“What if you decide to do it right next to us? Eww, no, shoo.”

“Other side of the horses.”

“Yeah, keep it quiet.”

Kyanna’s face had never felt so hot, nor had she ever felt so wrong.

“I’m not going to—I—“ she clenched her fists. “That’s disgusting!”

Izz let out a low whistle. “That’s cold, girl.”

“See? He’s pouting. You hurt his feel goods.”

Even if she had the will to continue protesting, Kyanna didn’t even want to sleep by them anymore, and happily took her blanket to the other side of the sad tree and horses. A second later, Einar dropped down on his own blanket beside her, his arms splayed out and his face to the stars.

The night was still. Not even a breeze broke the quiet, and not a cricket spoke. Only the horses occasional whiffle or shuffling of feet kept complete silence at bay.

Kyanna closed her eyes and almost instantly drifted.

Only to be awoken by Einar speaking.

“Thank you.”

Kyanna dropped an arm over her face and moaned. “I’m sleeping.”

“Sorry. Could I…could I hold your hand?”

Something like thin glass edged his tone, making his words come out reedy and weak.

Hefting her sticky eyes open a crack, she flopped her face towards him. He hadn’t moved an inch, still splayed out and with his glassy eyes up to the sky. He hadn’t even wiped the dried blood from his mouth.

Her chest tightened. How could she have been so stupid?

“Have you even drunk anything over the past three days?”

His silence was answer enough.

Ignoring her exhaustion and sore muscles, she curled up to her feet and went to the nearest horse for the wineskin hanging off its saddle horn. She dug around until she found something that smelled like biscuits and brought it to him.

“Here.”

When he just continued to lay there, glassy eyes to the sky, she bit her lip and sat down beside him.

“Einar…”

He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Princess, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it’s so hard to think and my head…I just couldn’t sleep.”

“How could something not be wrong with you?” she said dryly before sighing and popping off the cap of the wineskin with her teeth. Moving quickly so as to not give herself too much time to think about it, she filled her mouth, then leaned down to his poor dry, chapped lips.

His surprise was probably what opened his lips for her. She kept as firm a seal as she could, only pulling back when he’d swallowed the last.

Those glassy eyes were on her now, half-lidded and bright.

“Princess…”

“You’re probably so dehydrated, I’m surprised you can even talk let alone think. Was that enough to—“

His hand shot out to grab her head and all but thrust her face against his. His lips, cracked, damp, and flavored of blood and salt, cracked hers open by force. She flinched as his tongue rushed in to lap at the corners of her mouth.

He didn’t stop there, tangling his fingers into her ratty hair and hooking his other arm about her waist to pull her down closer.

She yanked away. “You’re gonna make me spill!”

“Then I’ll get water from you,” he breathed, jutting forward to bring their mouths back together.

She shoved him back. “Excuse you!”

“Quiet!” barked one of the Soan from over the horse, followed by a muttered curse from someone else.

That seemed to wake him up, though not by much, as he let go of her to simply lay there blinking at her owlishly, his skin flushed. He kept a hand at her knee.

Ignoring the wild dancing in her chest, she glared at him, then shoved the wineskin against his arm.

“Sit up and drink. Now.”

He did so but kept the hand closest to her on her thigh, using his left to take the water from her.

After a few swallows, she gave him the bread, which he chewed and chased down with yet more water.

“Don’t take it too fast,” she said, whispering this time. “When you’re done, sleep like the dead.”

“Is this a royal order or a wifely one?”

“It’s a sane order to the insane. Honestly.”

He took another swallow, then gave her the water with a look, so she took a swallow as well. Only then did she realize how thirsty she had been and, without meaning to, emptied it.

She flopped it back and forth to show him. “I’ll get another.”

As she moved to stand, the hand at her thigh moved again, grasping her wrist. Before she could do anything, he had her against him and his mouth against hers once more, wrapping both his arms about her so tightly she could barely breathe. Her heart sped off, her stomach lit on fire, spreading heat down to the tips of her toes, and the hairs on her neck and arms prickled.

When she arched away to gasp for breath he loosened his hold, only to bring his mouth down to her exposed throat. She shivered.

“Stop,” she pushed at his shoulders. “I haven’t bathed in days, I’ll taste nasty.”

“You taste divine,” and his mouth chased after her to continue to the other side.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

He licked up to her chin. “Just nearly died, that’s all. Gods, I love you. I adore you.”

“I got that, let go! This is disgusting!” Her whisper could only go so loud. Any moment now they’d get yelled at again.

“How is this disgusting?”

“I’m filthy, you’re filthy—and you taste like blood.”

He did give her some space, at least, but he kept his arms loose around her. The familiar puppy-dog like smile he gave her didn’t make the bruises beneath his eyes look any better, but it still warmed her to her core.

“You came after me.”

She frowned. “What about it?”

“You risked your life for me.”

She turned her face away. “You are my husband.”

“If I died, you could have married Jeremy.”

“That asshole? I thought you castrated him.”

He chuckled. “Wow.”

“What?”

“You insulted your one true love.”

She stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. He took this opportunity to lay down, taking her with him. He gave her his arm for a pillow, holding her close with the other.

“It gets cold in the desert at night,” he reached across her and pulled her blanket over the two of them.

Despite her earlier protests about being filthy, he nuzzled his face into her hair.

After only a minute, Kyanna found her eyes drooping again. Exhaustion to this level would not be denied.

Yet, one last knot in her stomach needed to be undone.

“Einar?”

“Yes?”

“Does it make me weak hearted if I love you? So soon after Jeremy?”

“I wouldn’t care even if it did.”

And somehow, that satisfied her.

***

Kyanna shivered in her light ceremonial clothing, fingering the single, coppery braid from her hair. She tried to distract herself from the laughing and singing Soan in the courtyard with the braid, running the soft tail of it between her fingers. The red had only taken a very, narrow strand. The rest of her hair still shone gold.

It had actually been Izz who spotted the single streak of red hair the day after Hrathbern. She had crawled, bleary eyed from Einar, just to be pounced on by all four (Izz kept a distance, scowling through the curtains of her chin length hair), to discuss her entrance ceremony to the Soan. At first, Kyanna had protested, afraid the Soan had gotten the wrong idea and would prevent her from going back home to Karpathia.

“I can’t agree with your tastes,” said Abal, sneering, “but honestly, don’t worry. The Mother is aware of all our states.”

“But you have to come!” cried Hasna. “You’re our sister! And you said you’d come to our tribal grounds after this. You said!”

It was just as Kyanna opened her mouth to protest that Badra spotted it. She swooped in, pushing aside her sisters, and yanked at Kyanna’s hair. Kyanna gave an ‘eep’ of surprise before glaring at her.

“What the—“

“Look!” Badra cried.

The other Soan stared. Kyanna’s first streak of red had come in, gleaming a rose gold color in the late morning sunlight.

It took all five Soan and eventually Einar to calm Kyanna down.

“I can’t suddenly grow into a Soan! I’m a princess! The only princess! What will happen if I suddenly look like a Soan?”

Abal just repeated her aforementioned line of the mother being aware of all their states.

“It’s probably just to remind you of her.” Abal pressed, “She is a rather prideful woman and does not like being forgotten.”

“Besides, if they kick you out you can always come back here,” said Badra with a grin.

But as Kyanna stood in the stone hallway, staring out into the dusty courtyard of the Soan village and fingering her thin, white Soanist garments, she still felt apprehensive. What was to be expected of her? What did these Soan—what did the Mother—want of her? What if the magic of the Mother spread? For it wasn’t just the red hair she was worrying about. As she had gone through the ceremonial bathing with her band of five Soan (who all felt they had first place rights on her due to the fact they got to her first), Badra had happily pointed out the bronze patch of skin spread across her shoulder like some strange birthmark.

But it still made little sense to her. How did the descendants of the Mother get into the royal family? And through which side of her family did it come from? And what of the magic which made it so Soan could only have daughters? Would her kingdom be displeased if she turned out only daughters who would, in turn, have only daughters?

Allowing her shoulders to slump in a long sigh, she let go of her copper braid and looked beseechingly at nothing in particular. She wished Einar were here to preoccupy her with a story or two, but the Soan hadn’t even blinked a lash in refusing him entrance. It didn’t matter if he was her husband or if he was the only man in the world the Soan might actually trust. This was a sacred Soan ceremony. Soan only.

A jingle of jewelry announced the arrival of her friends behind her. Badra approached her with Hasna, bearing jewelry of precious metals and stones on their arms. They offered them to her.

“They’re from the treasury,” said Badra. “Sparklies are always nice, but we like you to look extra shiny for meeting new family.”

Hasna nodded in agreement. Kyanna’s fingers found the beautiful, opal necklace at her neck. This would be her last night wearing it. New daughters wore it for their dance, then it was returned to its place from where the Mother could reach out to all her daughters.

“I think I’m fine” she said.

“You sure?” asked Hasna. “Not even an anklet with bells? I love the jinglies. How can you not?”

Kyanna smiled. “Yes. I’m so nervous, if I wear anything more I might trip on myself.”

The two eyed the thin, flowing pantaloons and chest wrap she wore skeptically. Kyanna looked down at her silk and leather slippers bashfully.

Badra shrugged. “Well, whatever you think. You ready?”

Kyanna bit her lip. Badra cocked her head to the side.

“What is it?”

Kyanna traced the toe of her slipper in the dirt, much as she had in her father’s study on that fateful day he announced she would be marrying Einar.

“What if…what if they don’t like me? The rest of the Soan. I am the princess of Karpathia. Last time I checked everyone in the desert hated Karpathians, let alone the princess of them.”

Badra gave Kyanna a sad little grin and Hasna also gave her understanding, raised eyebrows.

“Remember what Abal told you when we first met, Kyanna? We Soan have no loyalty to any nation. We are free. We are a law unto ourselves, and we relish in it.” Badra put a hand on Kyanna hair, stroking her single, coppery braid. “And you are one of us, now. Your background doesn’t matter.”

She allowed herself to be appeased, but her gut still felt tight.

Abal sauntered back to her side with an old Soan whose golden eyes were nearly lost to the folds of leathery skin.

Abal nodded to Kyanna solemnly, though with the familiar coy Soan smirk.

“It is time. Have you chosen who will be your elder sister?”

“Elder?”

At Kyanna’s question Abal shot a look at Badra and Hasna, who exchanged glances.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“No, I thought you had!”

The elder Soan turned disapproving eyes upon them.

“Who you choose for your elder sister is an important aspect to the ceremony. She should be someone among the Soan whom you trust,” said the elder, her rich, exotic accent almost overpowering, “What will she do?” Kyanna asked.

“She will lead you through the ceremony.”

Kyanna’s nervous stomach stopped her from asking. It had come to the point where she simply wanted it to be over and done with. The desert air felt too cool against her exposed skin, and she shivered.

“Well?”

“Huh?” Kyanna snapped to attention. “Oh, um…” she glanced around at the Soan. “I think I’ll choose Badra…if that’s all right with you?”

Badra beamed. “Of course!”

With this, Badra took up Kyanna’s hand and marched her out around the corner of the sandstone fortress to the courtyard. Warm light spilled across the dusty desert ground, pounded flat by thousands of hoofs and feet. A large, brilliant bonfire came into view, surrounded by dozens of Soan dressed in various colors and gleaming with fine jewelry. Their hair was set loose down their back, straight, thick, and in various shades of red. Abal and the village elder, who had yet to introduce herself, led the way, calling the attention of the others to Kyanna’s presence being pulled along by Badra.

From behind them, Hasna started to yip, loud, high, and trilling like some exotic bird. Several Soan returned their own yips. Excited chatter broke the air.

“All right, all right, clear the way,” grumbled the elder.

Kyanna clung onto Badra’s wrist, suddenly terrified. “Badra, what are they going to make me do?”

“Oh, relax, it’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“Before?” Panic made her voice squeak. “Where the hell have I ever done this before!?”

“Shh. Just follow my lead, kay? That is what elder sisters are for, right?”

Golden eyes watched her. Kyanna’s palms began to sweat. For a moment, she thought her wrist would slip from Badra’s grasp, which had dragged her into a clear ring about the bonfire. Despite her anxiety, she welcomed the hot heat of the fire upon her chilled skin.

At a gesture from the elder, Abal took a step forward, raising her arms to the crowd. As she spoke Kyanna grew more apprehensive when she couldn’t understand the Soan tongue. What was she announcing? The grand, carnival trick Kyanna was about to perform? At a gesture to the side, Kyanna’s eyes were drawn to what she had yet to notice: a good-sized group of women clutching strange horns, gleaming finger cymbals, drums, flutes, and a few strange, round stringed instruments. Her stomach dropped to her toes.

“B-Badra,” she whispered, “I’m not going to have to dance, am I?”

“Yep! What do you think the Mother’s been teaching you all this time?”

“But we just got back, I haven’t even practiced.”

“Really, it’s no big deal. I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

Kyanna bit her lip once more, pulling her sweaty fingers.

At a sharp command from Abal, the chatter died off. The bonfire roared softly in the quiet. Badra tugged on Kyanna’s hand.

“Come on. It’s time.”

What was Abal saying? She wanted to ask, but her voice refused to come out from its hiding place in her throat. Trying her best not to trip, she allowed Badra to lead her to the bonfire. Then, to Kyanna’s fright, she let go of her hand. She looked up at her in panic as the Soan girl put some space between them.

“Now, face me, little sister, and close your eyes for a moment.”

Closing her eyes was the last thing she wanted to do, but she did. The heat of the fire began to warm her skin to an uncomfortable scorch. Slowly, the cold within her melted away.

A drum started up a heartbeat. Chills jolted up Kyanna’s bones.

“Listen to the drum.”

The steady rhythm played out until her thoughts finally eased into it, and her own heart rate struggled to meet the steady beat. Something within her stirred. An exotic horn, which sound was like unto a crying bird, began to play beside it. Though it played only a single note at first, it turned to trembling, then dipped into a forlorn melody: the noise of something lonely, but beautiful. Not soon after it had begun to play a beautiful, melodic voice chimed out. Kyanna could feel her own vocal chords thrumming as though wanting to sing in response. And she did. The song was a strange call to her. She could hear it now.

“Listen to the call of your sisters,” said Badra. Chimes tinkled. “Now, open your eyes.”

The Soan were still there, shadowed by the golden glow of the fire. Badra put a hand to her ear.

“Do you feel it? The call? Our blood calls to you. Our mother has found you.”

Badra lifted her hip and lifted her arm in an elegant arc, her bronze skin gleaming ever like a fine metal in the firelight. Kyanna lifted her arm as well without thinking, a soothing calm taking place. The too hot heat of the fire reminded her of the sun and a memory burst into her mind of the Genie, dancing wildly in the desert. Her heart leapt.

Badra’s arm slowly came down, and Kyanna’s hips tilted with her. A fiery desire blossomed within her. Hips swayed in careful ovals. Arms snaked to the keening of the horn, and forever the drums thrummed in their blood. Their hands took shapes in the air. Kyanna became hyper-aware of the desert soil beneath her thin, silk slippers. The opal necklace bounced against her collarbone, reminding her ever of Einar. She had done this before. She somehow knew where to move and the forms Badra took.

“You can feel it, yes?” her tone was soft, almost motherly. “This ceremony is not to test you. That was the Mother’s job. This ceremony is to invite you in with joy and dance.”

More drums burst into furious life. Horns cried into the night sky. Zills went into a flurry of tingles, and several women burst into a wild and raucous song.

They danced. Kyanna didn’t need to watch Badra anymore. The heat of the bonfire set her soul ablaze. Her arms twisted, her hips bobbed, and her breasts swerved with the rest of her body. She could feel it, the moves she had to do. She could almost hear that less than a thought sound of the Mother laughing in joy.

She began to laugh too, tossing her hands into the air, leaping about the fire. What had she been afraid of? Beside her Badra danced, laughing as well. Soan burst into trills and yelps, singing and shouting. A few more joined in, smiling at Kyanna as they spun about the fire in a wild flurry. Though she felt hotter than ever before, she did not sweat, just as the Mother had not in her dream.

She could feel just how feminine and beautiful her body was. She didn’t fear to exaggerate her pale curves and flick her long, golden hair. She relished in the feel. Never before had she been enraptured with her own sense of beauty. Like an unbridled, untamed horse she danced, waving her hips, shimmying, and leaping and curving about the heat.

Freedom. Wild, uncontrollable freedom.

Hasna, Izz, Abal, and Fa twisted around her, their varying lengths of hair out free. Their hands were raised to the sky. All of them looked to her with warm, open smiles. Complete acceptance shone through them.

Tears evaporated off her cheeks. The smile felt so wide it hurt.

Later, she would learn that Einar had not paid any heed to the wishes of the Soan—as the Soan never paid heed to his—and had watched, enraptured, on a rooftop nearby.