Page 72 of Over the Emerald Valley
“Exhausted, worried, a bit sore, otherwise all right. You? Did the extra blood help?”
“It did, but it won’t last. I’ll eventually need more, but this is no way to live. Off the blood of others.”
“Maybe you won’t have to.”
Solon arched his brows. “The sheep?”
“The sheep.” Temaj scooted over and patted the cushion next to him.
Solon settled in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Worth a try. And clever of you. As usual.”
Temaj leaned against him. “We should head south to Nubia, Kushite territory.” When Solon’s response was only silence, he wondered if he’d made the wrong suggestion. “Or not. We could go west.”
“It’s not the direction troubling me,” said Solon at length. “It’s talk of the future at all. I don’t know what to think. I’d suspected my years with the army were drawing to a close, but I expected I’d retire to a farm somewhere. Tend crops, not this, not…whatever has happened tonight.”
Crops grew in the sunshine. Had Solon seen his last sunny day? Had Temaj? “We don’t have to speak about it now. Not with everything so fresh. You could sleep if you wanted.”
“And trust you not to fall asleep too? Never. We shall stay awake together.”
Temaj ran his fingers up Solon’s thigh. “I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time.”
Solon stopped his questing hand by laying his own atop it. “You can’t possibly want to do that. You’ve just said you’re exhausted.”
“I willalwayswant to do that with you. But I understand if now isn’t the best time.”
Solon pressed a kiss to his temple. “I want to learn more about you. Will you tell me?”
Temaj tensed. He didn’t have many happy stories. “What do you want to know?”
Solon readjusted so they could stretch their legs out on the lounge, with Temaj still tucked against his side. “Everything. All of it, from the beginning.”
Flashes of memories flowed through Temaj's mind. More bad than good. “I don’t even know the beginning,” he admitted quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“I only ever remember being a slave. I don’t know how it happened. Was I born a slave? Did my family sell me? Those answers are lost to time.”
Solon tightened his arm around Temaj. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”
It wasn’t that Temaj didn’t want to share, just that he’d never been asked. No one had ever cared. “Let me ask you a question first.”
“Of course.”
“Why do you treat me as you do? Or rather, how is it you’ve come to think of slaves as people?”
“It’s obvious slaves are people.”
“Not to most people who aren’t slaves. There must be a reason you’re so different.”
Solon sighed. “I knew a slave once, when I was younger. Knew him well.”
“What was his name?”
“Niut. He was a house slave, not a bed slave.”
“Your house?” It was odd to think of Solon as the sort of man who could own slaves, who came from a family that did.
“Yes. My father was unkind to him. To all our house slaves, really, but mostly to Niut. Perhaps because he knew I was fond of him. Father didn’t approve.”
