Page 81 of The Gilded Ones

“Yes,” Britta says, the other three nodding in agreement.

“Hurry up with it,” Adwapa humphs.

“All right,” I huff, summoning the power. I smile when I feel it tingle in my veins. “Bow to me,” I command, excitedly shuffling from foot to foot.

Please let this work, please let this work…

To my horror, Britta immediately starts to lower her head. No… Disappointment swamps me. I’d been so excited about this—

Britta whips her head up, a mischievous dimple appearing on the side of her mouth. “I don’t want to,” she says with a laugh. “There’ll be no bowing here.”

“It worked?” I gasp, all the tension whooshing from inside me. “It actually worked!” I grab Britta and begin dancing up and down. “It worked! It worked!”

Britta laughs, sharing my glee. “Yes, it did!”

“Good thinking, Britta,” Belcalis says, clapping her shoulder.

Britta giggles her pleasure and falls to the ground. I do the same thing beside her, exhaling away all my fear and tension. I turn my head towards her. “My thanks, Britta,” I say, taking her hand.

“Anything for ye, Deka.” She smiles, squeezing my hand.

As I lie there, I stare at my friends, excited and relieved. I no longer have to worry about accidentally enthralling them. Now all I need to do is make helmets for the rest of the Death Strikers before we go into battle.

In the end, I settle on thin golden circlets that cover the other girls’ ears as they go out on raids. That way, they can put any helmets they’ve already designed over them. I even make ones for Gazal and Beax, although I’m not sure Gazal will wear hers. She’s never been too fond of me. Karmoko Calderis is only too happy to indulge my request and gleefully incorporates this new addition into her designs. I think she would have become a smith had women been allowed to do so.

Our raids also continue, only now there are a few changes in how we approach them – Ixa being one. As per White Hands’s recommendation, he’s become a permanent member of our raiding party, and I ride his drakos form out of the Warthu Bera, much to the alarm of the crowds that always wait for us – and to Ixa’s delight. If there’s one thing he loves, it’s showing off. Captain Kelechi, thankfully, never minds, no doubt because of all the lies White Hands told him about the new breed of creatures she’s creating. I always wonder how she’ll explain the lack of other Ixa-like creatures to him, but that’s a concern for another day.

When I ride out these days, it’s with Keita to one side and Britta to the other. Keita and I use these occasions to talk. He tells me more about growing up in Gar Fatu with his mother and father, about all the adventures he had, wandering the marshes and salt mines of his home. I tell him as much as I can about Irfut but always stop before I say too much about my time in the cellar after the Ritual of Purity. I always see the anger surface in his eyes, and the sight fascinates me. Reassures me.

Keita’s not like Father and the other men I once knew, the men who abandoned me, tortured me to enrich themselves. I know I can always depend on him to fight for me, defend me. I never truly thought I’d have someone like that, and now that I do, I always feel as if I’m floating, even in my darkest moments.

Sometimes, when no one is looking, he and I hold hands. We even embrace each other, his touch sending shivers through me. I feel as if I could melt into him and never separate. I move away the moment anyone comes by, however.

Many days now, I find myself wishing I could remain by his side for ever. But I know I will stop ageing at human pace once I reach physical maturity, as all alaki do. I have only two or three years more, but then Keita’s ageing will overtake mine. He’ll grow older as I remain unchanged, and I have to make my peace with that, have to understand that no matter what I feel for him, we will never be what I want us to be.

Besides, I’ll always have Britta. The feelings I have for Keita always make me warm, but Britta’s the one who’s forever there by my side, ready to support me, to push me when I’m being silly, to laugh with me when I need cheer. I’ve learned many things these past few months, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s this: Britta is my dearest friend, and my kinship with her is the foundation I stand on.

I have to remind myself of this whenever she annoys me, as she’s doing now.

We’re deep in the jungle, as usual, one of the typical places we find deathshrieks. Mist gathers around us, cold and ominous in what should be sweltering heat, but there’s no sign of them. The closer we’ve gotten to the campaign, the warier they’ve become. No matter, we’ll find them soon enough.

Their nest is near here, once again the ruins of what looks like a temple, although it’s hard to make out anything with all the mist and the vines around. I squint, trying to peer closer, but it’s a difficult proposition.

“Infinity take it,” Britta grumbles beside me. “I can’t see anything in this blasted, Oyomo-forsaken mist.”

She, Keita and I are on scout duty today, so I nod. “Let’s move closer – hand signals.”

Keita shakes his head. “Too dangerous. Let’s use Ixa.” He looks up at the shapeshifter, who’s perched in bird form in the tree above.

“And what, read his mind to glean whatever it is he’s seeing?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from my words.

“Well – yes,” Britta says, rolling her eyes.

I sigh. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it.” I begin rising, but Keita grabs me. I look down at him. “What?”

“Be aware of what’s around you,” he warns.

“I will.” I sigh. Really, between the two of them, it’s like I have two nagging karmokos whispering in my ear.

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