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Mahu

Daka loved him. Surprised by the declaration, Mahu hadn’t returned the sentiment with words, but surely Daka knew. Hand in hand, they returned to the house on the hill.

The prospect of meeting more demons, even though they were Daka’s family, came with no small amount of trepidation. Daka called them incubi. Mahu had to separate the demons of his religion and the incubi of Rhakotis into two distinct categories in his mind. What he knew of demons and what he knew of Dakarai didn’t overlap. He must remember as much.

Daka possessed no malevolence. His hand in Mahu’s was a tender reminder of his sweet and playful nature. Mahu believed him when he said he didn’t know any curses, but his mother and sister had reason to dislike him, and what if they used curses?

Mahu had always made friends easily. He wasn’t accustomed to animosity. With his chest tight and the ever-present constriction squeezing his throat, he approached Daka’s large limestone home.

Daka loved him.

Mahu would hold on to that and be brave in the face of his fears which were rapidly approaching in the form of two very large, very intimidating women.

Daka’s mother, for who else could she be, stalked forward through the courtyard with Niya at her heels. A tall woman in a belted lavender gown, statuesque like the sculptures she strode past, with a mane of wavy brown hair and a thunderous expression that sent a chill racing through Mahu’s spine.

Daka took the lead, edging in front of Mahu without releasing his hand.

“Mother, Mahu has come for me just as I wished he would. Isn’t it wonderful?” His voice rose at the end as if he knew the effort wouldn’t sway her.

She glowered. If her arched brows were anything to go by, she remained wholly unimpressed. “Wonderful isn’t the word I’d have used for him, no.” Her voice rang deep with an edge of a growl that made Mahu want to step back.

He stepped forward instead, dropping Daka’s hand to offer his in greeting.

“Mahu, this is my mother, Meditarai.” Daka forged ahead as if her glare wasn’t projecting murder. “Mother, this is my Mahu.”

Niya hung behind, both women staring at his hand as if it were covered in slime.

“Pleased to meet you.” Mahu dared to make eye contact. Her irises were the same light shade of purple as her gown and possessed a threatening depth it would be easy to get lost in.

Just when Mahu thought she’d refuse the greeting, Meditarai reached forward and took his wrist in a grip of iron. Her hand burned hot on his flesh while her gaze held him prisoner. A ripple—like the current of a river but unseen—struck him from head to foot, causing a full-body tremor and an unwelcome tingling sensation that lingered on his skin.

Mahu fought not to stumble backward.

“Mother, don’t sway him.” Daka touched fingertips to her bare forearm. “Let Mahu go.”

She did as her son asked but took her time, first releasing Mahu from her menacing gaze, then dropping his wrist, and finally ending whatever force she controlled that caused his discomfort.

“Interesting,” Meditarai purred as she stepped aside for Niya.

Mahu resisted the urge to shake off the sensation and turned his gaze to the sister. Would Niya threaten him like Meditarai had? He hoped she wouldn’t because he had to greet her. It would be impolite not to.

“Hello again, Niya.” He stretched his arm toward her.

Niya took his wrist and gave a nod. “Mahu.” Her voice was husky, but her tone pleasantly warm. Her grip felt ordinary, and Mahu could meet her gaze without the desire to flinch, which he counted as a small victory. Niya’s slow inspection drifted from head to toe, her lips pressed to a thin line.

Daka leaned into his side, his presence a comfort after such scrutiny. “Are you going to invite him in mother, or shall we all remain here glaring at one another?”

Meditarai cast him an annoyed glance and huffed. “Please, Mahu. Won’t you come in?” Her voice, overly friendly, sounded entirely put on for Daka’s benefit.

Niya’s laughter broke some of the tension. “Oh, Mother, perhaps we should give Mahu a chance. Daka’s lost his mind over him, and somehow he’s resisted your sway. For that feat alone there is something special about him.”

Mahu mulled over her words. Daka had mentioned sway too, but what did it mean? This wasn’t the time to ask. All he knew was that the feeling had been unpleasant and now it was gone.

Niya took her mother’s arm, Daka took Mahu’s, and the four passed through the courtyard of statues to enter the house.

Inside, a vast entryway with high ceilings and whitewashed walls led to a grand sitting room which spilled into an airy inner courtyard. More like a temple than a normal house. With a filigree of light pouring in through latticed windows, the room glowed bright and welcoming. Lush cream rugs blanketed the smooth stone floors. Mahu wondered how they kept it all so clean and free from sand.