Page 86 of Over the Emerald Valley
But first, they needed to put some distance between themselves and the palace.
CHAPTER28
Temaj
Armed with a wealthof unexpected but extremely useful information, they left the cursed palace behind them. Temaj was brokenhearted to be sneaking off without so much as a parting word to Seli and Met, but perhaps it was better this way—a fresh beginning for all of them.
The palace was eerily quiet, its residents slumbering after the upheaval of the night before. Temptation to poke around and collect the details of what had happened rose and fell. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t his life anymore.
His life was with Solon, whom he followed on quiet feet through the outermost courtyard to the gate. Whom he would follow to whatever lay beyond. His chest warmed at the thought of spending the rest of his nights with the honorable general—a kind man, principled and generous. A protector. A friend. Someone who valued his opinions and desires. Someone who had proved worthy of Temaj’s admiration. The thrill of it gripped him to the core.
As they approached the far wall, they were met with the telltale braying of an irritated donkey. Ottah had come through for him one last time. And what would he have packed for supplies? Food and wine? Things they wouldn’t need anymore but would be valuable to trade.
Solon pushed the gate open, then glanced behind when Temaj didn’t immediately step through.
His short-lived hesitation was no match for the eager desire to leave the palace’s perimeter as a free man. This was it.
He flashed a grin to Solon as he leaped through the gate and bounded into the bigger man’s arms. “Kiss me!”
Solon caught him around his middle but dodged the kiss, turning his face sideways with an agonized groan.
Temaj blinked. Had Solon rejected him? A sinking sensation took hold of the pit of his stomach and spiraled. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not you.” Solon rushed to reassure him. “I don’t trust myself. I’m ravenous. Aren’t you starving?”
The donkey, tied to the perimeter fence, watched them with a wary gaze.
Temaj caught Solon’s wild-eyed stare as it flicked from the animal back to him. “I feel the hunger pains, yes.” He’d woken craving blood, an unnerving sensation but not entirely unfamiliar. He’d woken hungry countless times, craving food just as much. “I’m ignoring them.”
“How?” Desperation tinged Solon’s voice.
“It must be worse for you. I’m used to it. Drink from me.” Temaj tilted his neck.
Solon tore his gaze away. “No, not that. Don’t tempt me.”
“I don’t mind. I can wait.”
“Then I will too.”
Temaj gestured to the donkey. “Him, then?”
Though Solon looked sorely tempted, he shook his head. “No. I’d rather the animal trust us. If you can wait, so can I.”
“Don’t play the hero on my account.” Temaj closed the gate behind them. “You’ve already earned my adoration. You won’t lose me now.”
Solon’s expression softened. He leaned in and granted the kiss Temaj had asked for. Quick and careful but precious all the same. “I feel out of control. It was all I could manage not to feed from Amunet and Femi.”
Temaj hadn’t realized it was so serious. “Then we hurry and make it our first order of business to learn to hunt for our dinner.”
Solon greeted the donkey, stroked its neck, and untied the rope. “We must choose. South by the way of the coast, or south via the Nile? There aren’t enough towns on either route in between to sustain the animal.”
A choice. His choice. The sea or the river. The only things Temaj had ever had to choose between were clothes or jewelry. This felt important. His first proper decision in his life as a free man. He weighed the options carefully. The sea would be cooler, with a constant breeze, and farther from Horemheb’s influence.
But. The river was freshwater, with more grazing for their new companion, and Temaj had heard so much about the Nile without ever having seen it for himself.
Solon waited patiently for his answer—though he must be desperate to get moving—as if he too grasped the significance of the moment.
“The river,” said Temaj with a confidence he didn’t quite feel yet.
