Page 117 of The Cruel Dawn
“Gathering more berries, nuts, and fresh water for our guests.” Malik Sindire’s eyes linger on my forehead and the new patch of skin left bare after Zephar’s plucked it. Tonight, the Dindt wears a gold robe with a rust-colored weave and matching slippers. He smells of sage and cinnamon, and his skin shines as though he’s dipped himself into a vat of oil.
A smile sweeps across his face as he bows toward Elyn. “I’ve never hosted an Adjudicator, much less theGrandAdjudicator of the Nine Realms. Welcome to my home, Lady Fynal.”
Elyn gazes around the temple grounds. “You have a full house.”
“Demigods experiencing identity crises,” Malik Sindire says, shrugging. His eyes continue wandering the new landscape of my face and neck.
“Kai told me that you visit Vallendor only twice an age,” Elyn says. “That’s not often.”
Our host flicks his ring-heavy hand. “True, but I’m glad that my visit this time may benefit the Lady and her realm. My followers are also pleased that I’ve returned.” He smiles as he regards his people. “Even during less dangerous times, they find my temple a refuge from the chaos in the hinterlands. And as you know, these are no longer peaceful times. The threat is real.”
Elyn and I glance up at the daystar now moving toward the horizon. Soon, his partner will dominate the skies; she grows fuller each day.
“How dire has our situation become since we last spoke?” Malik Sindire asks me. When I don’t immediately respond, he says, “Oh, dear,” and he beckons Elyn and me to follow him. “Let’s make our plans over a drink.”
We pass more demigods sleeping on chaises and armchairs. If they were scared before, their faces no longer show it. They are soft and unlined, blessed and unbothered.
We settle on the glass-walled patio that shields the interior of the temple from the outside world.
“Zephar thinks your followers are a doomsday cult,” I say.
Malik Sindire looks over to me. “Is doomsday not upon us?”
I open my mouth to respond but think better of it and seal my lips again.
“Lord Itikin is usually a clever strategist,” Malik Sindire says, “but in recent times, he’s grown willfully ignorant. A grasshopper who thinks he has all the time in the world.”
I furrow my brows. “He hasn’t been himself lately.”
“Even some in his camp see that all is not well,” Elyn says.
“Dyotila and Avish have also told me similar tales,” Malik Sindire says, nodding.
“I’m referring to someone else,” Elyn says, “the Eserime healer who met us on the road.”
I give Elyn the slightest headshake, angered by her carelessness.
“Really?” Malik Sindire says.
Too late.
“She expressed her concern to us,” Elyn says shakily as she realizes her mistake. “But then, as you said, who isn’t concerned abouteverythingnowadays?” She chuckles.
Malik Sindire says, “Hmm. Yes.”
Elyn mouths an apology.
I nod, irritated. Malik Sindire and Zephar won’t be bonding over mugs of mead anytime soon, but I don’t want to endanger Tatanye Lote’s life in any way.
“If it matters, Lady Megidrail,” Malik Sindire says, “I’m pleased that you decided to follow your head and not your heart. Zephar Itikin is a most…persuasivegod. You are a brave woman.”
“You’ve heard our arguments, then,” I say.
His eyes flit around the room, amused. “Such marvelous echo in this part of Doom Desert. Who needs fools or songs when we can all listen to the new chapter of ‘Kai and Zephar’?”
I laugh heartily. Elyn rolls her eyes.
Malik Sindire chuckles. “Will she boot him from the Sanctum? Will he destroy the closest town? Will they grow into their true sizes and battle it out? Who knows?”
