Beyond the Shadows (20 page)

Cyn wasn’t sure how to respond, considering the chaste kiss they had just shared had him out in the hall walking off a shaky feeling in his legs. “She’s finally awake.”

“Good. I want to talk to her.” He reached out toward the door.

“Tola, she thinks I’m from Earth.” Cyn swallowed, his throat constricting. He couldn’t let her discover the truth now.

Tola watched him, his dark brown eyes cautious and assessing. “You
are
from Earth, Cyrus.”

“Thank you.” Cyn let out the breath he was holding.

“We’ll negotiate that point later.” Tola entered the room before Cyn could call him a scheming bastard.

He felt a sting on his neck and slapped one of the Ticis. “Damn the swamps,” he grumbled. He glanced over at the door. “And the creatures that live in them.”

 

 

AFTER TWO DAYS OF HELPING TOLA FINISH THE ROOF ON AN ADDITION TO HIS family’s home, Cyn was ready to leave the planet. While he could always count on finding a way to survive in Rastos by bartering his knowledge and skill, not being able to just click over funds got really tedious after a while. No wonder Rastos wasn’t much of a draw for tourists. The Touscari considered all forms of representative currency evil. You could live happily on Rastos so long as you were willing to work or trade for everything you needed. It was exhausting, but convenient considering his current financial situation.

Cyn wiped his sweaty brow, trying to clean up as he entered the Sanctuary. At least he’d gotten his fill of light exposure working without his shirt on the roof, and he hadn’t been bitten by a single fly. It looked like most of the swarm had died off or moved on.

Unfortunately, Yara was still trapped in her nets. Cyn felt terrible for her. He knew she needed more direct light exposure than the little bit that filtered through the window and netting. When he had visited the night before, she was going crazy.

He took a fortifying breath as he entered the room.

“Tuz!” Yara scolded as she jumped on the bed trying to knock her cat down from the top of the netting. Cyn stayed in the doorway a minute watching her soft breasts in the skin-fitting top he had gotten her. It was a good choice. The vibrant blue with swirling white patterns around her neck complemented her skin, and the short cut showed off her luscious abdomen. He shifted as he felt the now-familiar rush of arousal that tormented him every time he was near her. “Tuz, get down! You’re going to shred it.”

Cyn laughed.

Yara went still, then squeaked as she dropped onto the bed, wrapping her hands around her waist to hide her bare midriff. She tucked her long legs beneath her. The shorts he had bought didn’t cover enough for her modesty either. Perfect.

Her yellow eyes darkened to rich honey as her gaze drifted over his bare chest. She bit her lip.

“You could put a shirt on,” she suggested, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her midsection. Cyn enjoyed the flush of pink in her cheeks as she looked at him.

“I don’t have any clean ones left, and I refuse to negotiate with Tola for the use of his laundry. The man’s a menace.” He ambled over to the bed and unhooked Tuz from the netting. The cat perched on his shoulder and affectionately chewed his hair. Sometime after saving Yara’s life, Tuz had decided he was acceptable.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Yara admitted. “I can’t take it anymore.” She eased off the bed, let the pillow drop and grabbed the netting in her fists.

“Then come on.”

“What?” She took a step back. He gently placed Tuz on the floor.

“Let’s go. We can spend the day in the marketplace. It’ll be fun.” He stepped forward and reached for the seam, but she held it closed from the other side.

“I shouldn’t be having fun at the expense of my health. I was just venting.”

“I haven’t seen a fly all day.” He closed his hands over hers. “Come out, Yara. I know there’s a rebel in you somewhere.”

“Don’t insult me.”

He peeled apart the seam, opening the veil. “I meant it as a compliment.”

Yara’s heart thundered in her chest as she took a tentative step through the nets. She looked down at herself and almost ran back in. This wasn’t like her. First of all, she couldn’t be seen like this in public. The shirt and cutoff pants Cyrus had managed to find revealed far too much skin. She didn’t complain at the time, because she needed the light, but she couldn’t go out in them. And the blue color on the top wasn’t even real. She had never seen a color more vibrant. Everyone would stare at her.

She’d be completely exposed.

Cyrus took her hand and pulled her a step closer to him. His naked skin glowed with a fine sheen from working bare out in the sun.

Ona, forgive me
. She’d been thinking that a lot lately. As soon as she reached Azra she’d have to do penance to Ona forty times over.

He leaned in close to her ear, and as the heat from his skin reached out to her, her stomach tightened with sweet anticipation.

“Let’s have some fun,” he whispered.

Before she could say no, he had pulled her out of the room, and she matched his strides as they ran like disobedient children down the hall and out of the Sanctuary.

The sun washed over her, bathing her in heat and light. She closed her eyes and held out her bare arms. She wanted to pretend she was alone, that no one could see her, but the noise from the streets overtook her.

She felt Cyrus’s hand on the small of her back. The skin of his palm felt rough and hot against her bare skin as he led her away.

“We need to get lost in the crowd before Tola finds us,” he said in a conspiratorial hush.

“Yeah, in case you hadn’t noticed, I have green hair.”

She opened her eyes and was nearly overcome with the sight before her.

“The color.” Her words came out because she simply didn’t have the power to keep them in her head. The crowd blazed with vibrancy, a rainbow of swirling colors as hundreds of people walked through the wooden streets, haggling with vendors and laughing with friends.

Their clothing sparkled with vivid dyes. Suddenly Yara didn’t feel as if she could stand out amid the bright yellows, pinks, and purples. It was almost garish, but at the same time it complemented the Touscari’s dark skin and hair. The elegant swirls of white painted just above people’s brows and across their temples drew Yara’s eyes to faces alight with good humor while they argued to negotiate fair trades.

Everything seemed to move at once, while the wooden streets rumbled under the crowd. And the smell, it overwhelmed her. The scent of heat and wet wood wove in and under the pungent odor of exotic spices and loam.

Yara glanced through a gap in the buildings at the shimmering wetlands beyond. Drawn to the light, she absentmindedly pulled Cyrus with her until she reached a railing at the edge of a dead end.

The sunlight glittered on the twisting waterways with surreal beauty as birds by the millions flew across a sweeping horizon.

Enormous reptilian beasts lifted their crested heads and thoughtfully chewed swamp grasses with wide, flat mouths. Striking black markings across their faces accented the bright yellow skin covering their blade-shaped crest. Yara had never seen anything like them.

One leaned forward and lowed, the deep sound resonating out over the wetlands with such power it made the water ripple around the great beast’s feet.

“This is a swamp?” She took a deep breath, trying to take it all in.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Cyrus commented, with his gaze fixed on her.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “It’s very beautiful. Is the whole city built on stilts?”

“Yes. The water’s low right now, but during the floods, the city almost looks as if it’s floating on a river.” Cyrus reached out, and one of the gigantic reptiles pushed a wet nose toward his hand.

She turned her back to the rail and rested her forearms on it as she studied him. “You like it here, don’t you?”

He smiled. “Come on. There’s a lot to see in the marketplace.”

Yara felt giddy and light. Even her clothing didn’t bother her once she realized that the tight and supportive top was a fashion staple for the Touscari women. Only healers from the Sanctuary wore muted or bleached-out robes. The majority of the women seemed comfortable in their skin and the rich colors of the marketplace.

Her body rushed with adrenaline as she shocked Cyrus by haggling for a meal for them both, then daring the vendor to add extra spice. After Yara spent about five minutes showing the vendor a faster way to sharpen his knives, he handed her a heaping oblong bowl filled with a hearty fish stew. The vendor laughed as Cyn choked on it, but Yara loved it. She enjoyed the rich burn of flavor as the spicy fish melted in her mouth.

By the Beauty and Honor of Isa, she felt alive
.

“You’d better take it easy,” Cyrus said as he pounded his chest and coughed to hide the tears of pain in his eyes. “You’re still sick, remember?”

“I guess Tola will know what I’ve been eating,” she said then took another bite. “Hopefully it will fry his hands. Then we won’t get in trouble.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Cyrus laughed his deep laugh.

Yara stopped, and watched him. She wanted to join him, to laugh, too. It should have been natural, shouldn’t it? Why didn’t she?

Was she that broken?

She turned away from him, and a crowd near an open pier caught her eye. “What’s going on over there?”

“Looks like a round of terc.” Cyrus straightened, peering toward the end of the pier. A loud crack whipped over the crowd, followed by a splash. The mass of bodies erupted in shouts and cheers.

“Is it a game?”

He looked at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Why? You want to play?”

An electric tingle raced down her spine as she thought about sparring with him on his ship.

“Yeah,” she said, turning back to him. “I’ll play.”

Cyrus took her hand and pulled her through the crowd until they reached the edge of an open lattice of springy poles built over a large hole in the pier. It was a good five-meter drop to the river below.

Cyrus spoke with a man holding two wooden staffs. Each had a blunted hook on the end, just large enough to catch an arm or a leg. The man smiled, shouted at the crowd behind him, and tossed Cyrus the hooks.

Yara looked up at him as he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto one of the thin logs. He tossed a staff down to her.

“Well?” he invited.

She jumped onto the lattice with the grace of the Elite and stood on the unsteady pole with sure feet. With a flourish, she spun the staff around her back. It felt so good to stretch out her arms, and feel strength in her muscles, like she had control of her body for the first time in a long time. The crowd sent up a roar of approval, shaking their hands in the air. The colorful fingerless gloves that covered their palms flashed in the sunlight like confetti. She turned her attention back to Cyrus, determined to block out the visual distraction. “What are the rules?”

“Simple, first one in the river loses.” Cyrus walked backward on his log while keeping his gaze locked with hers.

A thrill of awareness surged in her gut. He had good balance.

Impressive
.

Too bad he was hopelessly outmatched at this game. “Any other rules?” she asked, stalking forward.

“Nope, that’s it.”

“This should be fun,” she admitted. She leapt forward, landing hard on a pole near him. The lattice bounced, but Yara flexed through the surge in the wood, keeping her balance. She wasn’t as strong as she’d like, but it was enough. It felt so good to move.

Cyrus bent his knees, maintaining his balance as he hunched forward. The sun gleamed on his bare back. She had to strike.

Sweeping the hook toward his ankles, she thought she’d catch him, but he jumped at the last second, letting her hook pass beneath him as he landed with un-Earthlen grace.

Her momentum turned her balance to the side. He struck forward with the curve of the hook and pushed her side just enough to set her center off balance.

She jumped and vaulted on one hand, turning an elegant flip before landing on another part of the lattice.

The noise from the crowd deafened her as the motion of their hands pumping and waving in the air distracted her for an instant.

It was all Cyrus needed to jump from his pole to the one nearest her. The bounce in the wood caught her off guard and she tried to plant her foot but didn’t have time. Cyrus’s hook shot at her ankle.

She had to leap again, this time cartwheeling along one of the thin poles before finding her feet. She gripped the bending wood with her long toes, finding her balance as she watched him.

How did he learn to balance? Earthlen were notoriously clumsy. Was that just a stereotype? She watched his feet as he ran toward her. His arches seemed to flex around the poles while his gangly toes gripped the wood, much like hers had.

Ducking down, she prepared for his attack. At the last minute she dove down and to the side, catching a pole with one of her hands and swinging herself back up and around.

He smiled at her and straightened, as if he were standing on solid ground. With a lazy arrogance, he placed the butt of his hook in front of him, and crossed his hands over the arc of the hook.

“Give up yet?” he asked.

The crowd laughed. She smiled at him. “Not on your life.”

“You know, you should take it easy,” he suggested. “You’re still sick. Honestly, how long should it take an Elite Azralen warrior to hook a man?”

“That depends,” she shouted over the taunting
oooh
of the crowd, “on what we intend to do with him.”

She sprang, flipped, landed in the center of a springy pole, and used the momentum to launch herself into the air. She twisted as she flew, reaching her hook out and catching his shoulder. She pulled it in, twisting him off balance as she landed.