The Stars Align

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The stars and moons above the land of Talmus are known to be a breathtaking sight, shimmering in the dark sky like diamonds scattered on black velvet. A caravan, heavy and weary from its long journey, slowly winds its way into the base of a stony canyon. Khimi gazes out through the back of the lead wagon, his eyes drawn to the undulating land mass before him. When the wagon curves around a cliffside, he spots Talmus’ twin moons, often called the Sisters; they cast their pale glow over the shifting sands beneath the wheels. Running an open hand over his itchy chin, he smiles up at the star between the Sisters: the brightest star in the sky, Stella Solaris. It had been a guiding light to his family for countless generations, leading them to wealth or glory—things for which Khimi himself felt no strong desire. Instead, he wonders if following this star will lead him to happiness.

The caravan’s camels and carthorses grunt and bray as they lead the wagons and their crew onto the unfamiliar terrain. Khimi watches as their handlers try to settle the animals with gentle pats and reassurances. He is soon interrupted by the driver of his wagon, who knocks on the wooden panel behind his seat at the reins. The man looks back to Khimi with an anxious expression.

“Are you sure this is the right way, Khimi?” asks the driver through a canvas curtain between them.

Khimi looks back at the driver with a lukewarm glare from his cerulean eyes. He runs a hand up his brow and through his cropped raven hair. He knows their long weeks on the caravan trail have left him irritable and maybe stir-crazy: the cabin of his lead wagon is too cramped between their luggage and his tall frame. “Aye, Baqil. I’ve mapped the path for us a dozen times,” he replies, fighting the flicker of aggravation. “Are you suggesting I made a mistake?” He raises one eyebrow at the wagon driver.

“No, my lord,” replies Baqil. He starts to fiddle with his face wrap. “I only wondered if I had gotten turned around. No need to worry,” he adds meekly.

Khimi huffs under his breath. “It’s… fine, Baqil. I don’t mean to lose my temper,” he offers. He turns away from the opening in the canvas curtain, returning to watch the canyon as it emerges into view.

“No, no, my lord. I was acting a little out of line to question your direction,” Baqil admits, some humor returning to his tone. “I imagine we are both weary. Again, my apologies.”

 The driver clicks his tongue, and the caravan resumes its course anew. The carriage momentarily sways violently. Khimi is suddenly rocked in his seat. I take it back. Baqil is trying to kill me, he thinks with a tired sigh. He looks to the man sitting across from him in the cabin, one of his most trusted friends and advisors.

“Rashid,” Khimi calls, throwing his voice over the creaking of the caravan wagons, “please tell me why it is that Ziad is so keen that we provide supplies to this temple.” He shakes his head in exasperation. “I-I cannot make sense of it.”

“Come now, lad,” replies Rashid. “Don’t ya know every wealthy man gives to the gods? Makes ‘em feel better ‘bout themselves.” He lets out a hearty chuckle at his own observation.

Khimi grimaces at his advisor’s unhelpful response. He pulls his knee towards his chest, unlacing and relacing his leather boots. Khimi had never been a man of faith, nor had he any intention of following in the footsteps of the Faithful. He knew all too well the truth behind Ziad’s faith, at least; the one and only thing that man truly worshiped was wealth. Khimi glances back to Rashid with his eyebrows furrowed. “There is no need to be coy,” he grumbles, his frustration becoming more apparent. “Whatever it is you know, you ought to just spill it.” He starts in on his other boot, restless as can be.

Rashid sighs. “Let’s go back, eh? As y’re already well aware, y’re an only child.” He pauses dramatically.

Khimi nods. “Indeed.” He can feel his patience withering.

“Are ye in a rush, my lord?” Rashid grumbles. Mimicking the voice of an even older man, he intones, “Every good story comes in time.”

“Rashid,” Khimi sighs, “please… continue.”

“Aleyna struggled for years to give birth and it…well, perhaps–Ya should hear this story from the saint, really,” Rashid flounders, crossing his arms.

Khimi rolls his eyes. “Would this go faster if I order you to tell me?

Rashid scoffs at his obvious jest. “Well then! Ya’d find out sooner or later. I suppose,” the advisor says, seemingly to himself. He scratches his graying beard with a thoughtful look for a moment before beginning again. “Ya may have heard some of this from household servants, Khimi. Ancient history, by now. As the story goes, Aleyna came to this temple… and nearly a year later, ya were born.”

Khimi blinks at him, unimpressed. “This story has something to do with how much our family is offering them?”

“It is a debt! A debt owed for the gods’ part in y’r birth,” Rashid grumbles, waving his hands in annoyance. “Y’r mother has always felt deep gratitude toward the gods of life. So, ‘ere we find ourselves,” he chuckles, gesturing around him, “in the middle of this damned canyon, on our way to see the saint and deliver on y’r mother’s promises.”

Khimi rubs his brow and growls slightly. “Then it’s Aleyna’s superstitiousness at play. Are all Sidian mothers like this?”

“No, lad. Not nearly,” Rashid replies, shaking his head. “Mine left me on the steps of the Sanctum,” he adds blithely, “so know how lucky y’re to have Aleyna! Be hard pressed to find a greater woman.”

Khimi turns to stare out through the back of the wagon. “You’ve never brought up your parentage before now,” he says, compassion in his tone. “I can admit that, maybe, if nothing else, my mother has good intentions. But to think this ordeal is based in what could be a child’s bedtime fable… Surely, you agree it is a waste of the Cerulean Star’s resources. Do you think there is any truth to it all, Rashid?” Khimi asks. “Godly intervention?”

“Who can say? We all want to believe that the gods look out for us,” Rashid says. Then, dropping to a whisper, “Now, from what I hear… This saint–this Nina? It’s said she’s the real deal. Carries ‘erself with an otherworldly air,” he adds with playful theatrics. “She’ll tell ya the truth of it, I bet.”

Khimi harrumphs. Rashid chuckles back. “We’ll see about all that,” Khimi replies. He crosses his arms and then leans back against the wooden panel, closing his eyes. “I will not doubt the saint yet… but it is all so strange. You might think Aleyna could have told me something herself.”

Rashid scratches again at the grays on his chin. “Well, maybe she thought the same: that ya will get the answers ya need at the temple. That’s assuming, of course, ya even get to see the mighty saint.”

Khimi pauses in thought. He has never deeply considered his destiny or wondered if he might be someone special in the eyes of the gods. He has enough to consider as the heir to an emirate.

Rashid clears his throat and interrupts Khimi’s pensiveness. “Since we’re on the topic, lad, there’s something I’ve meant to ask ya for a long while now,” he begins, biting his bottom lip, unexpectedly nervous to broach a topic. “If y’ve a mind to keep sharing secrets,” he whispers, leaning forward and out of Baqil’s earshot. “What happened at those ruins… the ones ya went to with y’r mercenary crew? I know the place and it’s not far off from this temple.”

Khimi groans. He has told Rashid very little of what transpired in the years after he fled the family estate as a youth. He has thought it better that way. Poor Rashid does not need to know every danger that has ever run up against, Khimi thinks conveniently. Nor should he be made aware of the many foolish, foolhardy things Khimi had done to pass idle time on his travels, such as when he worked his way up the ranks to become a mercenary company’s captain. Then, most of all, he hopes never to have to explain his encounter with an efreet in its ancient tomb nor to divulge the promise he made to appease her.

“Only a touch of magick,” Khimi quips. He brings a small flame to burst from the center of his palm. Rashid gasps. “Otherwise, it was a dusty tomb,” he fibs, “what else might you need to know?”

“I don’t like it, Khimi!” Rashid hisses. With a shake of his head, he looks down at the wooden planks. “Ya thought I wouldn’t do any research after ya mentioned it last? Legends and ghost stories! All said that place was meant to be sealed.” His hushed voice quavers with concern.

“Alright, Rashid, thank you. You can go to sleep now,” Khimi says with a light chuckle, “You worry for nothing. I will tell you the story when I feel you won’t scold me for being brash.”

 “Khimi, y’ve always been brash.”

“I thought you said ‘ya were always a smart lad,’” he replies, imitating Rashid’s hoarse accent.

“Ya can be smart and brash at the same time!” he whispers back, his face screwed up in thought.

“Again, perhaps you should get some sleep before we arrive.”

Rashid huffs and leans back against his seat in the cabin. “And ya won’t tell me about the ruins at all.”

“Maybe someday,” Khimi teases. He rests his head on his arms, trying to find a comfortable position despite the rocking wagon.

***

Hours later, Baqil brings the caravan to a halt before a tall set of steps carved into the side of the canyon. The lack of movement rouses Khimi from his rest. He takes in the unfamiliar surroundings: a large stone structure is nestled into the stone walls, made of a light brown stone like many similar structures throughout this region of the Desert Cities. The nearby coast in the west imparts a salty ocean breeze, wafting across the canyon towards them. A line of palms sits tucked along a stone stairway as an extension of a freshwater stream that flows gently from atop the carved stone. However, Khimi’s attention is caught first by a series of beautiful, hand-painted mosaics lining the stream; from his vantage, they seem to depict scenes of an outpouring ewer and of childbirth. At their approach, numerous figures in white tunics, the edges embroidered with patterns in navy thread, walk down the steps toward the caravan. Baqil opens the curtain to the wagon once more.

“My lord,” Baqil says along with a firm knock to the wagon interior. “Khimi, we’ve arrived. Those arethe acolytes making their way to us now.”

“R-right,” Khimi replies groggily. He rubs his eyes and straightens his mussed hair with his fingers. “Rashid!” he exclaims, standing before him.

“Up! I’m up,” his advisor yelps, his leg kicking in surprise at the sudden shouts. “I hope we’ve arrived, then?”

“Yes, Ser Rashid,” says Baqil behind a chuckle. “Should I let you sleep? Perhaps I ought to handle all the affairs myself,” he muses.

“That won’t be necessary,” Khimi says, knuckling his lower back before leaping from the back of the wagon. “I need to do something, at least. I cannot sit for even another instant.”

“Then ya could’ve ridden a horse instead,” Rashid mutters, then steps down from the back of the wagon. He groans, leaning forward to grip his knee. “Did my little lord want to keep me company the whole way?”

“If we are raising hypotheticals, you didn’t have to come at all, Rashid.” he counters. “Were you that nervous I would run away again?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Khimi unties the small crates attached to the rear of their wagon. With a glance up, he spies the first tunicked figure to reach their caravan; a slender woman, she approaches at a trot. She calls out to them in her stride, waving her free hand.

“Sir,” beckons the woman, “the caravan needs be brought further west! We receive all of our supplies in the caverns. Your animals will be well-tended,” she adds, before she pulls back her garb’s thick linen hood to make their acquaintance. A half-elf revealed, she smiles at them, perhaps apologetically. She introduces herself as Keira, then turns to Baqil and provides directions at a rapid pace. Her flaxen hair rests just above her shoulders. The white tunic clings tight to her frame and Khimi questions internally as to why temple clothing would reveal so much of the wearer’s form. While Khimi leans back against the wagon, he catches Rashid scrutinizing the attendant before he shifts his gaze sidelong back to him.

“Rare treat to see such pale-skinned beauties in these parts. That’s my type of woman right there,” Rashid laughs while he nudges his ward.

Khimi tracks his eyes as they scour the woman’s features again. “Rashid, she’s a holy woman. Come off it, would you,” he groans between them.

“‘Tis a jest, Khimi,” Rashid laughs under his breath. “And even holy women have the occasional good time, eh? If I can think all the way back to my days at the sanctum, the acolytes of my time were every bit as wild as the rest.”

Khimi rolls his eyes. The two men walk down the line of the caravan, watching as more tunicked acolytes arrive to assist the half-elven attendant with traffic directing. Unlike Keira, their hoods remain secured and conceal their individual appearances. It unsettles Khimi, reminded of how out-of-place he feels in this setting. His path with Rashid brings them nearly a mile from their wagon, and they arrive as the caravan rounds a bend towards them. They wave to Baqil at the caravan’s lead. He drives to overtake the canyon’s bend and to reach a stony maw of a cavern. Khimi and Rashid continue forward into the dim expanse. Khimi takes notice of the ground beneath them, shifting from the sand-covered canyon to meet a floor of neatly cut stone tiles arranged geometrically. Braziers of various sizes illuminate the cavern’s walls. Small tables arranged at the back host dozens of colorful and shapely ceramic vases, hand-painted with peculiar imagery. At a far perch sits a beautiful elven woman, with hair golden like the sun. She marks their approach, glances up from her glazing to make eye contact, and then returns to her dutiful brushwork. Now across the table from her, Khimi can see a circlet set into her hair, lined with gems reflecting the firelight.

From behind them, Khimi hears thudding steps against the tile. “Saint Nina!” calls Keira as she meets the group at the tables. Huffing, she says, “I was not expecting you to be here.” She finishes with an informal bow to the sitting saint.

“Hello Keira. I thank you for your assistance,” replies the solemn woman, who continues her steady brushwork. “You may return to the temple. I will oversee the caravan’s reception.” Khimi notes the uncanny dignity underscoring her friendly speech. Elves live for so long, he can recall many times when he felt unnerved by their unique sense of detachment.

“Of course, Saint Nina,” Keira replies and bows once more. She clicks her tongue and motions to two acolytes who had followed in behind her. In Elvish, she says something that Khimi interprets as: “Hurry, let’s not annoy the saint. She wishes to see to the merchant prince herself.” They hustle deeper into the cavern and into the temple.

Rashid leans towards him, not too subtly. “Whilst I live and breathe!” he whispers. “Ya hear stories of her beauty in a tavern or the like, but… hells.”

“Rashid, calm yourself,” Khimi murmurs back from between his teeth. The woman is certainly more beautiful than Khimi gathered upon their approach. He would not call himself an aesthete, but he knows enough to recognize her striking features. Even from under a heavy satin gown, her breasts sit pert and even against the fabric. Silken tresses reach past her shoulders and frame a delicate elven profile. He muses that her glossy skin and hair seem to reflect the braziers’ glow with more warmth than her jeweled circlet. Her lips are thin but gentle. Her eyes, a green unlike anything Khimi had ever seen, like the gentle Lorian meadows he knew only from in paintings.

“Saint Nina,” Khimi starts, bowing low with the pace of his speech. “I am Lord Khimi Zeybek of the Cerulean Star Mercantile. It is my honor to make your acquaintance. We come bearing the supplies promised to your temple by my mother, the Lady Aleyna Zeybek.” He glances up from his bow at the woman before him.

Saint Nina meets his cordial gaze, but she adds a kind of contemplative hum as she holds eye contact. “A pleasure. The supplies promised by your mother, yes?” she asks airily. “If one did not know the circumstances, one might assume you feel as distant from all this as is possible. Honorable Lord Zeybek, might it be that you… are not of the Faith, perhaps?” She returns her attention to the work in hand.

Khimi coughs, stunned briefly at her unexpected question. “Saint Nina,” Khimi begins, along with another bow, “I sincerely apologize for any affront. Until recently, I was kept unaware as to the deep connection between the Temple of Life and my family. Lady Aleyna requested that I oversee our operations centered in Rhaz, but your trade with the Cerulean Star seemed merely one such avenue as the rest,” he adds quietly.

She pauses her glazing with another thoughtful sound. “Just so. If my intuition serves me here, I should venture that it is you whom I should thank for these many years of bountiful commerce.” The saint meets Khimi’s unsure gaze. He watches her stand to offer a slight bow to him in return. “You said your given name was ‘Khimi’?” she asks, oddly breaking eye contact.

Khimi clears his throat again. “It is,” he replies, wondering when he might catch his balance.

“I think that is a beautiful name. A fitting name for you, my lord, should I say so myself. Do you know, it means ‘gift’ in the Old Tongue?” Nina whispers. She meets his gaze for a last time and walks directly towards him. Her smile as she addresses Khimi is warm and perhaps wry. “When next you see Aleyna, please pass along my regards.” She continues past him towards the cavern mouth but pats his arm with a doe-like hand. She calls back behind her, with a musical lilt, “Lest I forget, my assistant is en route as we speak. He will see to our procedures for the caravan’s goods. You should find him more than capable, my Lord Zeybek, if you can forgive his poor manners for me.” She continues as if weightless towards the moonslit canyon afar.

“Godsdamn, what a woman. Do ya think she needs escortin’?” Rashid asks beside Khimi.

He notices Rashid swoon as he looks away from the enigmatic Saint Nina to get his bearings in the stony cavern dock. “I should question if you don’t need an escort, Rashid,” Khimi says, wondering at his luck that he be connected to such an off-putting figure as her.

“Y’re one to talk! Looking as if ya could drop any moment,” Rashid retorts.

“I am fine, so you ought to inform the caravanners to settle in for the night,” Khimi says. Against the canyon scene, he can see the loading crew employed by the Cerulean Star, a mostly reliable team, for how long they had traveled and worked together. “There is ample room to set camp in the canyon near to here. I can handle dispensing the supplies and tribute.” Khimi looks back into the cavern depths and wonders when he might see the saint’s “assistant,” which he thought was a strange title in the context.

“Ya sure, lad?” Rashid asks, squinting with one last attempt to catch a glimpse of satin and blonde waves. “Far be it from me to keep ya from taking on extra work,” he cuts himself off and claps the young lord with a flat palm to the shoulder.

“Very sure,” Khimi answers curtly. Sighing, he continues, “Even if we mustered the energy to work through the night, I doubt we would be done by morning.” He shrugs, attempting an easygoing posture despite the exhaustion hitting him. “Do what you can tonight. We can catch up on the morrow.”

“Aye, my lord,” Rashid intones, but breaks into a quick grin. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to speak with that saint.” He sets off in the opposite direction to join with the caravanners and Baqil. Khimi watches him depart, catching glimpses of crewmen or acolytes working in the distance.

After a moment, he takes a spot at Saint Nina’s table. She left her pottery, he muses, and even the glaze is still wet. Gingerly, he lifts the receptacle by his fingertips. He reads it as a kind of vase: Khimi decides to trust his intuition that the piece is well-constructed. It is coated with a piquant, vibrant blue glaze. Uncharacteristically, he takes the saint’s abandoned brush in hand and dabs its tip against the ceramic. He lets his mind drift while he paints along the lines that had been traced on the rounded surface. After a moment, he catches himself, placing the pottery back on the table. He couldn’t recall his last time fooling at art and it felt refreshing. He inspects his handiwork again.

Breath brushes Khimi’s ear over his shoulder. “It’s a ewer, if you couldn’t tell,” a silvery voice says as close as that from behind him. Startled, he jumps in his seat.

Khimi turns to catch the speaker at his back. He grabs at the air and catches sight of the stranger: a short-statured young man with honey-blond hair draped in white. He slips away from behind Khimi’s seat and puts a table of space between them.

“Wow! Good reflexes,” he calls back to Khimi, then beams up at him disarmingly.

Khimi cannot help but look him up and down, something feeling like combat readiness pulsing behind his temples. Now, standing, the height difference between them is dramatic. With a closer look, he realizes the stranger is a beastkin^[1]: through dense waves, Khimi can make out two thick, tawny, rounded ears hugged by golden cuff-rings. The cuffs glint in the cavern’s glow, as does a golden choker, with inset rubies, that sits tight around his slender neck. Flicking behind the young man is a long, wiry tail, capped with a tuft of that same unruly hair.

How long have I been staring? thinks Khimi in a daze. When he finally meets the beastkin’s gaze, he is struck by his mischievous eyes’ aetherial blue hue, shining aqua like the sea. At the bridge of the stranger’s nose, Khimi spots a pair of lengthy horizontal scars parallel with his wide smile. He blinks and collects himself, mostly. “Pardon,” he calls back. “I had not expected to–”

“Hadn’t expected an aslan^[2]?” the boy cuts in. “No one ever does. I hear all the time how my kind just do not acclimate well to this world.” Khimi feels teased by the stranger, despite what he registers as a blush coming to the boy’s tan cheeks.

Khimi clears his throat and tries to shake off his tense posture. “I intended to say that I did not expect someone behind me as close as you were.”

The stranger snickers with an anxious tint. “Oh, no. I apologize. I really got you,” says the beastkin, finishing with an antsy apologetic nod. “So then, I ask your pardon, as well.”

Khimi leans against the table, then replies, “I took no offense,” he replies, feeling his shoulders sink back. “In truth, it is an unexpected treat to meet an aslan by pure happenstance, and so far from tribal lands, no less.” He attempts to mirror the youth’s cheerful expression.

Khimi watches the boy’s eyes light up and that beaming grin returns. “‘A treat’, eh? Good to know! I’m a treat,” he giggles. He breaks eye contact, then his cutting blues dart away. “People here call me Lumi. A-and what about you, my lord?”

“K-Khimi,” responds the young lord, stumbling over his name. He has to wonder if the beastkin’s nervous energy is contagious. “My name is Khimi. If you might forgive me, I am not normally… So discomposed, Lumi.” He sinks back against the table. “We have had a very long trip. If you could, Saint Nina informed me that someone would meet us here to assist with our work.”

Lumi hops back to attention. “Me! She asked me along, and I can’t exactly refuse her since I am such a trusty assistant,” he admits. The boy seems to rock on his heels, trying in earnest now to meet Khimi’s eyes with his own startling pair. “But maybe, if there was a strapping merchant prince or something who wanted to play hooky, I would also be unable to refuse him.” That pulls an unexpected chuckle from Khimi. “There could even be a late-night walk of the grounds in store for such a person. Maybe even… a snack.”

Khimi stands firmly back on the ground. “As tempted as I am by that,” he starts coyly, “does the trusty assistant really think it appropriate for that person—whoever he may be!” Khimi raises his voice to tease the beastkin, and in turn, its echo against the cavern walls makes Lumi’s eyes crinkle and his smile shimmer. “Would it be appropriate for that person to neglect all those he brought with him for contractual labor?”

Lumi hums thoughtfully; Khimi is reminded of the saint. “Not even for a nap?” he questions with an eager vim. “I’ve never seen someone fall asleep holding pottery before. A-and you can’t fall asleep in front of all those people, so…” The young man trails off. Then, conspiratorially, he adds, “I could find you somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

Khimi has no choice but to relent. He nods and follows the beastkin at his urging. They enter a shadowy tunnel, carved upwards into the stone. They travel through a series of spiral stairs with an occasional window carved out for passersby to view into the deep canyon. Along the stone walls, censers fill the narrow passage with incense, which forces a yawn out of him.

“See, this was definitely the right idea. Thanks for suggesting it, my lord,” Lumi offers to him, proceeding ahead at a chipper pace. Regularly, he turns back to bore holes into Khimi with his stare.

Khimi fights back another yawning breath. “If we are playing hooky, you should call me ‘Khimi.’ Though I have to wonder if this is all some elaborate ploy of the saints,” he mutters absently. He stretches with his arms raised and collides with Lumi in front of him, not having noticed they stopped. He looks down at the assistant, who wears a squinting kind of frown.

“Hey!” he yelps, his long tail pointed down and audibly slapping the stone tile. “Nina’s not like that! Sh-she’s the kindest person I know. She’s not schemin’. Take it back.”

Khimi is startled by the shift in mood. “I’m sorry. I should not have teased you, little lion,” he replies. Lumi’s breath hitches at ‘little lion,’ but Khimi decides to ignore it for now. “I am sure Saint Nina is an honorable business partner.” He glances through one of the windows but cannot tell how far they have come from the cavern nor how close they are to the temple entrance.

An eerie sensation sits in his chest, one which he cannot quite place. All he knows is that, when their eyes meet, he feels a kind of familiarity like he’s known Lumi forever. Those beautiful eyes remind him of the blue waters along the coasts of Dolmas: inviting, bright, and opulent, they draw him in. For that unknown reason, he feels as though he can trust the younger man implicitly, as though he needs to trust him.

The aslan huffs. “Good. Thank you, Khimi. Now, c’mon.” He takes Khimi’s arm in a loop with his and then swings on his heels, dragging them up the stairs. “Are you nervous? Is that what your comment was about?” he asks with a boyish laugh. “If this is your caravan, you must be doing alright for yourself. They’re just donations! What could go wrong?”

“Ah. I…” he begins, feeling found out by Lumi. “I see how my comment could give that impression.” As they walk, his arm rubs against the younger man’s back and forth. He wiggles it in Lumi’s grasp, attempting good humor. “I have little experience with the Faith,” he adds vulnerably.

“No worries!” Lumi says with a glance. “I can understand being concerned, but trust me, Khimi, the saint is no thief.” He smiles and pats Khimi’s arm reassuringly. “Promise!”

Oddly, Khimi cannot help but smile at him. “I see. That’s reassuring.” He does feel reassured by the aslan’s explanation; alternatively, perhaps he is already forgetting what worried him in the first place.

Lumi pants as takes the steps two at a time to match his guest’s longer stride; Khimi is relieved when he takes a moment to catch his breath. The pause in their ascent and a short silence gives Khimi time to survey their surroundings. The steps continue still higher up to a top level, onto which Khimi cannot yet see. As they climb further up, various throughways are cut into the cliff and branch off from the stairwell landings. At his side, Lumi clings tightly to his arm, with a face that Khimi worries means they are lost. So many questions rush through Khimi’s mind to ask of his tour guide, yet he finds himself unable to broach the silence. A certain unrest comes over him each time he parts his lips to ask the aslan something. He scratches at the scar on his cheek. What is wrong with me? Lumi glances at Khimi once more, perhaps noticing he intended to say something. After another moment and with a pretty smile, Lumi continues more slowly up the seemingly endless stair with him.

Finally, they arrive at the top in a plain mudbrick room. Lumi shoulders into the entrance and the cool night air rushes against his face, whipping the feathery hair about his cheeks. He turns back to Khimi and offers him a grin that shows his fangs. Khimi’s heart thumps, though he is unsure if it’s for the boy or the thousand steps they climbed. Hells…

“C’mon, the actual temple is right here,” Lumi breathes, taking his arm once again.

 Without thought, Khimi mutters, “Do you walk arm in arm with all of your guests?” he questions, trying his best to sound playful, but he cannot deny the pang of envy that rises in him from his own comment.

The boy’s jaw sets as though the question broke his pride. Hells did I say that for? Khimi fixes his gaze with him, holding out for his next words.

Lumi laughs suddenly, his cheeks flushing. “S-sorry, it’s my habit to walk like this with guests, to aid them in their journey up to the temple,” he explains cautiously, “though most of our guests are the elderly, or pregnant.” His face hardens slightly, a bite in his voice, “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I would be more than happy to guide you from a distance. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“It’s f-fine, only a question,” Khimi says, trying to ease back. “This is… alright for now,” he says with pursed lips. He watches the aslan’s ears twitching. “For future reference, you should avoid… the merchants I deal with, they would—never mind.”

Lumi’s tail slaps against the back of Khimi’s calf. “Oh? Does milord wish to teach me proper manners?” he adds with a taunting smile. “If you should prefer, we could find ourselves somewhere private and you can teach me whatever you want.”

Heat fills Khimi’s face and he is again all too aware of his own heartbeat. “I think it best to stick with the tour.”

Lumi scratches his cheek thoughtfully. “If that pleases you,” he murmurs, and turns with a gesture towards the large structure jutting up through the landscape. The moonslight glows brightly around it, illuminating the building’s facade. “This is the Temple of Life, finally,” he announces, allowing Khimi a moment to enjoy its glory. “I’ll show you around!” he says, his eyes fixed ahead on the massive sandstone construction.

“By all means,” Khimi pauses. “Lead on, little lion.” He smiles when the aslan smiles from the corner of his mouth and tightens his grip. Why does he feel so familiar to me?

“C’mere!” Lumi whispers while they draw nearer to the entrance of the temple. “If you look in front of the temple, those are the other steps that descend into the canyon. You passed ‘em in your wagons before you went deeper in,” he offers. “The elders here once told me the gods led Saint Nina to this spot in the cliff-face, before they even knew where to build. She and a last few members of her order barely escaped death at the hands of the bloodthirsty snake-men in the jungle!” he adds, quite animated, and then stops himself. After a pause, he turns to Khimi. “D’you like hearin’ about this kinda thing?” he asks.

“I enjoy history fine. Thank you,” he says simply. His attention follows the stream of water flowing past in uniquely-shaped aqueducts that appear like dripping sand, but are made of solid sandstone. “How is there such a bounty of fresh water here?” he asks, looking down at the aslan. “Aquifers? A full spring?”

“Ooh, good eye!” Lumi croons, his own stare following the aqueducts along with Khimi’s. “Well, when the saint and her followers escaped from the jungle, they took some relics with them. One of them was an ever-flowing fountain,” he says with excitement, pointing towards the aqueducts’ source above.

“Ever-flowing…” Khimi scoffs, watching water trickle alongside the stairs. “Sounds a waste of water to me, but I suppose it is calming.”

“Mmm, you’re not the first one to suggest it. I hope this doesn’t sound rude, Khimi, but I can tell you definitely aren’t of the Faith. It doesn’t bother me,” Lumi says bluntly, “but can I ask why you don’t believe in the gods?”

“I can try to explain,” Khimi whispers. “For me, I have never understood the appeal of beseeching a higher power for aid. How many stories, how many legends, talk of the gods ignoring the pleas of their champions? I’ve read dozens of scrolls and books containing the tales of legendary heroes who died at the divine’s whims.”

“Y-yeah, there are many stories like that,” Lumi nods in agreement. “All the same, though, Kh-Khimi. There are just as many tales where the gods help their champions, to spread light into darkness, provide nourishment to the—”

“Sorry, I am not interested in a conversion,” Khimi groans, slight anger rising in his voice. “I only just arrived moments ago. Is this why you were sent by the saint? If so–”

“Oh! No, that wasn’t my intent!” Lumi cuts in, halting his track. “If I offended you, I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to hear your thoughts of the temple and of the saint. Honest!” He pauses, shaking his head. He pulls back from Khimi’s arm, turning face to face with him, digging his bare heels into the sand. “I only thought… knowing a man’s opinion of the gods can tell you a lot about him,” he adds, his aetherial eyes meeting Khimi’s. “Look, I’m really, really sorry. I won’t ask you anymore about it.”

Khimi has a hard time averting his gaze from those blinding, beautiful eyes. “Just lead on with your tour. It is likely I’m exhausted… And I should not be so suspicious of my generous tour guide,” he says quietly.

Lumi chuckles, and the release of tension is palpable to Khimi. “The bashful look doesn’t suit you!” he says, extending a hand towards Khimi. “Come then, let’s keep going,” he adds, taking Khimi’s hand and placing it through his arm. “You have my word– Lumi promises not to push the gods or the Faith on Khimi!”

He walks Khimi past brass braziers, their light illuminating the entrance. A shallow pool reflects the dancing flames onto the sandstone walls. Beneath the pool’s surface, tiny blue mosaic tiles create a beautiful tableau, in which the ocean waves give life to mankind. Khimi glances at the curious scene, then up at Lumi across the small reflecting pool. His heart pounds, drowning out the surrounding sounds as they stare at one another. There is a pull, a draw, impossible to describe, but it comes with a sense of something deep within him that makes Khimi yearn like nothing before.

“Do you want to stop here, my lord?” Lumi asks from the other side of the reflecting pool. Lumi stares, his eyes fixed on Khimi. He bites his bottom lip while he waits for a reply. “Khimi?” he asks again.

Khimi turns to the shallow reflecting pool, following the tile mosaics beneath the water as he wipes his eye with his shoulder. “Yes, forgive me,” he says, breaking from his trance. “Admiring the mosaics. They remind me of my home,” he fibs.

It had been ages since Khimi had gone back to Sidi^[3].His hometown was so unlike the other Desert Cities. Their family estate was often considered a palace by the locals, as one that rivaled those of the wealthiest merchant princes. He frequently contemplated his childhood: the long days spent in the grand courtyard of his parent’s estate, the reflecting pools that ran along the length of the avenue to the massive structure. It held a kind of beauty which had to be seen to be put into words, yet he could not recall the last time he thought of it.

The aslan begins to walk ahead of him at a meandering pace. “Well, we can stay here as long as you’d like, but up ahead is the main chamber; we keep many of those relics I mentioned from the previous Temple of Life stored there.” He looks over his shoulder back at Khimi and finishes softly, “But if you’d prefer, I can show you to my bedchamber.” Khimi can tell his teasing smile even at a distance.

“Oh, yes, you did offer somewhere for me to rest my head. Is that where you had in mind?” Khimi asks, feigning innocence, eyes never leaving Lumi.

He lifts a nervous hand to scratch at his cuffed ears. Khimi starts to walk closer as Lumi replies, “Perhaps. But I share a room with three other acolytes. It would not be very p-private,” he stammers. “We should go see the relics, it’ll be more relaxing. But then after we can find another spot for us to lay our heads?”

Us? Khimi feels his thoughts shudder as he follows Lumi. He finds himself glancing down at the acolyte’s bare feet, walking across the stonework floor, before his eyes trail up his tanned legs. His tunic is short and revealing–decidedly higher-cut than that of any other temple residents he had seen. Khimi cannot be sure if Lumi knows what he is suggesting and he cannot resist biting his knuckle to stifle his own thoughts.

Lumi turns back towards him fully, his ‘come hither’ eyes replaced with a simple anticipation. Khimi responds by ripping his knuckle from his mouth as Lumi raises his brow. “Lead on, then,” he says, composing himself while Lumi smirks. “Show me the relics.”

The two travel along a path lined with dozens of large columns to come out into an open sky area. The familiar stars and moons shine brightly above, casting their glow onto the stone works. Lumi stops and looks up for a moment, pointing to make sure Khimi notices. Hundreds of darker mosaic tiles create swirling scenes of flowing water; the tiles reflect the light just so, causing them to twinkle along with the starry sky. After pointing out the ceiling, they make their way through a large arched entrance. Tall ibis statues, carved from pale sandstone, flank either side of the door. Lumi halts before he enters the last room and turns toward the clerics and acolytes praying before an ornate altar. He gives a cordial bow, which Khimi mimics. They walk around the edge of the wall and draw near a small sandstone table, at which Lumi stops abruptly.

He draws himself closer to Khimi, standing on the tips of his toes. Nodding over to a display of a winding, ebony staff, Lumi whispers, “This is one of the staves taken from the jungle when the snake-men attacked. Nina said it has incredible restorative powers. According to her, she would restore people’s lost limbs with it.”

“That powerful? Could one use it to, say, bring back the dead?” Khimi asks, eyeing the ebony black staff with suspicion. “I’ve heard the Faithful have many perspectives when it pertains to resurrection.”

“Probably! I don’t know the particulars of what it does, only that it is special to the temple. But I’ve heard it could cure hundreds of diseased people at once! And, there was one time, Nina used it to bring breath back to a drowned child! So, at least, she isn’t against bringing them back to life on principle,” Lumi says. He eyes the rod up and down. Khimi can make out intricately carved faces with various gemstone eyes that peer back at him. “Anyway, more relics?”

“What about this magical fountain?” Khimi asks, peering back at the praying figures. “Perhaps I feel a little out of place, surrounded by all this,” he says, waving his hand through a cloud of perfumed incense.

Lumi nods and leads them from the room, returning the way they came. At the area with the small reflecting pool, the beastkin turns past the columns and into the darkness, light shines dimly across the stones. Khimi follows him as he approaches a final sandstone staircase. Lumi halts and turns back to wait for him. Khimi feels the sudden warmth of his touch against him, his arms wrapping around his waist.

“Do you need help walking up the stairs, my lord?” Lumi asks, chuckling while he tugs against him. With a flash of his teeth, he smiles. “Rather dark for a human, I bet.”

Khimi slowly peels Lumi’s grasps from around him; the action takes more willpower than he likes. “I-I am capable,” he grumbles quietly.

Khimi almost thinks he hears the acolyte grumble back at him. “Well, at least take my hand for now. What if you fall?” Lumi presses, and then weaves his fingers between Khimi’s larger digits before he begins to walk quickly up the stairs, stopping dutifully when Khimi pauses on the uneven surfaces.

Khimi glares at Lumi in the darkness, somewhat frustrated. “I can manage, I promise. If I fall—”

“If you fall, then it will be my fault,” Lumi interrupts, his brow furrowed. “I’d rather you just hold my hand, and then we don’t have to worry about all that.”

“Hells, you’re a pest,” Khimi says, then clicks his tongue. “I was told aslan avoid people, and this must be why. They annoy everyone around them,” he adds under his breath.

“If I am annoying you… you can dismiss me,” Lumi sneers, releasing Khimi’s hand. “But I was rather enjoying our time. Were you not?”

Khimi narrows his eyes. “Oh, were you?” he asks, his interest piqued.

“Yeah, it’s rare to meet s-someone with… with such refined… uhm,” Lumi stumbles, his tail slapping against his leg. “Meet someone who has such–”

“Very well,” Khimi interrupts, hiding the smile crossing his lips, reaching for Lumi’s hand. “Take me to see this fountain.”

Lumi’s tail flicks behind him, and tugs Khimi’s arm. “Okay, good! It’s right up here.”

The two reach the top of the staircase, where a broad structure sits before them. Lumi begins to speak in an unfamiliar language as his eyes blaze with a luminescent glow, and unlit braziers about the area crackle with life. Before them sits a large fountain, and atop its central pillar sits a tall ewer, carved from lapis lazuli with inclusions of golden veins. Lumi sits down on the ledge of the sandstone fountain, observing the water flow down from the small ewer at the top. Khimi sits beside him, watching the water gush from small holes in the side of the fountain into ports which direct into the aqueducts on either side of the small area.

This little thing provides all that? Khimi resists the urge to chuckle.

He peers about the area, but his eyes are drawn back towards the aslan at his side. “This is certainly not what I had expected,” he begins in a whisper. “Actually, I don’t know what I expected or what I thought would be up here. This entire temple is… It is all different than I expected.”

“This is one of my favorite places here,” Lumi replies, squeezing Khimi’s hand with his. “But it’s hard to get it right now. During the day, you can see miles ahead in the desert to the east and then across the ocean to the west. The breeze smells so strongly of salt, and you find yourself wanting to sleep because of how peaceful it is!” he adds, looking towards the ocean, the moonslight illuminating the rippling water in the distance.

Khimi gives Lumi’s hand a faint squeeze back. “No, I could see how one would find that relaxing–sitting here in the warm sun, feet resting in the cool water…” He dips his free hand in the water.

There is something about him… or is it me? This sort of behavior, this isn’t casual… is it? He thinks to himself.

“Tell me, Lumi.” After a moment, he hangs his head and whispers,“Are you like this with all men who come to the temple?”

Lumi gasps. “No, what! Are you callin’ me a harlot?!”

“No!” Khimi laughs, surprised at the outburst. “No, I apologize. I am only curious about you,” he adds quickly.

“Well! Since you asked, then… No one has ever really caught my eye before, and… and, uh… I think that if you see something you desire, then you should take it–make it yours,” Lumi says, his cheeks growing progressively flush. “Yeah, there is just somethin’ about you.”

“I understand, but this is moving a bit fast for me,” Khimi says, his eyes focusing just beyond Lumi. “You know barely a thing about me.”

“Maybe I can know who you really are without knowing anything about you,” Lumi interrupts at a murmur as his ears droop slightly.

“What does that mean?” Khimi asks, raising an eyebrow.

“N-nothing! It’s nothing,” Lumi stutters, his cheeks turning scarlet. “We ought to return to your camp. I bet we could count everything before dawn if we start right away.”

Khimi pulls his hand back from the aslan’s. “Yeah, it’s late,” he whispers. He stands, then looks back at the ewer once more.

The two continue back down the stairs, Lumi heading down first in silent contemplation. Khimi watches the aslan cross his arms as if his pride had been wounded. They draw near the entrance of the temple, and Khimi pauses once more to glance at the reflecting pool. He looks over the large sandstone structure, noting the beautiful hand-painted murals and the oceanic images within, depicting baptisms and water births. He takes a moment to lean against the pillar and his exhaustion washes over him. Attempting to settle, his mind cannot resist retreading Lumi’s words. What did he mean, ‘Maybe I can know who you really are without knowing anything about you’? What in the hells could he know about me?

“Lumi,” Khimi calls, working to straighten out his thoughts. “I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s not many people who see me the way you seem to do.”

Lumi turns to face Khimi. “I am not like everyone else,” he says, his hands extended wide, pleading. “I’m like you, so I know you—I know what it is like to need to be a certain way for others. I know you’re hidin’. I know you’re unhappy,” Lumi growls, frustration evident in his tone.

Khimi purses his lips. “What do you mean, you’re like me?”

Lumi groans. “Do I have to say it?” he questions, edging closer to Khimi.

“Yes,” Khimi whispers. His body becomes rigid at Lumi’s approach. “I think you should say it,” he adds, taking his own step closer.

Lumi grabs a handful of his linen tunic. “I know you’re like me. I can tell you’re hiding who you are. I can tell! The way you look at me,” he says, his fingers tense on the cloth. “I knew the moment we met.”

Khimi sighs loudly. “So you figured me all out? Just like that?”

“N-no,” the beastkin replies, “I just feel somethin’. I don’t quite know how to explain.”

A lengthy silence follows his words. Khimi struggles to believe how much Lumi knows of his own thoughts, feelings he did not realize they shared. There had been emotions that bubbled in him throughout the evening that he could not explain himself. He stares at the younger man standing before him. Lumi has his hands twisted up tighter with his linen tunic, exposing more of his thighs. Khimi cannot help but look the taut legs up and down. His cheeks warm.

The words leave his lips before he can think. “I am s-slow to trust,” Khimi says, closing his eyes. “I can’t know if we are both thinking the same thing… but if you bear with me, then perhaps we could explore this,” he adds, smiling, then leans harder against the pillar.

Inside, his emotions roil. What am I saying? I want to explore something with him?

Lumi groans. “Could we sit for a minute? You look exhausted,” he says in a bit of a panic. “Let’s get to the stairs, and we can keep talking.”

“A-alright,” Khimi responds in a whisper. He rubs his temples as they start down the steps. “For that matter, how are you still awake? The sun will be up ere long.”

Lumi chuckles, turning away from him. “Typically, I sleep during the day.” He walks beside Khimi, showing him where to step in the dark. “Oh, this is another really nice spot. You can see down into the canyon below from the top of the stairs here!”

“It is nice,” Khimi whispers, rubbing his eyes. He fights his exhaustion, setting in as they speak. “How did you come to live here, Lumi?” he asks against a yawn.

He gets no answer. The silence is stifling. Did I say something else wrong? Lumi looks up to the stars, lost in thought. They make their way across the sand-covered cobbles towards stairs which descend into the canyon. Braziers burn every few flights and cast their light along the wide staircase. The palms shake with the gentle breeze, and the sound of trickling water is only barely audible above the crackling flames.

Lumi glances at Khimi, offering him a soft smile. “Might be best to save that conversation for another time,” he says with a slap at Khimi’s thigh and sits on the top of the stairs.

Khimi glances at him through his heavy eyelids. “I only thought… I assumed the saint informed you about the Zeybek family and wondered if you mightbe willing to share.”

“Surprisingly, she didn’t tell me much about you or your family,” Lumi whispers. Even in the low light, Khimi sees the blush rise to his face. Flippantly, he continues, “I was just shocked to see someone as handsome as you at the temple! Like I said, not too many strapping mercantile princes walking through the door. Also, when I was watching the way you handled the pottery… it was cute.” He snickers.

“Cute?” Khimi asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called cute. Perhaps there’s a first for everything,” he adds, moving his hand to Lumi’s knee.

Lumi looks at Khimi. “I mean, you are so obviously handsome… and I bet I don’t even need to say it, huh,” Lumi says with a flirty grin, looking down at Khimi’s hand against his skin.

“Aye, suppose I’m not bad to look upon,” Khimi smirks back. He scratches the scar across his cheek. “Though, at the same time, I venture I was equally surprised to see a handsome young aslan,” he adds, squeezing the thigh under his hand.

“Do you find me handsome? Or are you just interested how ‘different’ I look, my lord?” Lumi asks, perhaps testing him. He moves to tease the hand on his leg and then interlaces their fingers.

Khimi leans his head towards Lumi. “Could be both,” he says. He peers into Lumi’s round eyes, noting again their impossible aetherial color — blue like the shallows of the Emerald Coast. Where moments ago his pupils were dark slits, they are now perfectly round saucers. “Are you testing me, Lumi?”

Lumi smiles coyly. “‘Testing’? Am I doing somethin’ that could be seen as testing?” he asks with a playful tone, but Khimi hears his pitch rise.

“Did the saint send you to seduce me?” Khimi asks, raising an eyebrow. The thought had stuck with Khimi since they began the tour, but he continually pushed it to the back of his mind. He rubs a thumb back and forth. “Be honest,” he says, leaning in closer.

“No.” Lumi sighs. “But I can tell there is only one person here who is keeping you from being happy.” He clutches Khimi’s hand tighter.

“W-wait, what do you mean?” Khimi says, stumbling over his words.

“You’re the only one who is stopping you from being happy. I can tell. If there is something you want, you should take it!” Lumi whispers. He slowly pulls Khimi’s hand higher up his soft thigh, his face draws nearer.

Khimi’s fingertips slide beneath the hem of Lumi’s linen tunic. “Take what I want?” he whispers, mostly to himself. He rests his forehead against Lumi’s shoulder and his fingertips sense the warmth of Lumi’s inner thighs.

Lumi whispers to him, “I-it’s okay.”

Khimi feels Lumi lean into his touch as he slides further up the warm sweep of flesh. He feels panting breath against his cheek. “Alright, little lion,” he whispers, “I’ll take what I want.” His mouth draws nearer to Lumi’s. Against the rough skin of his hand, the coarse linen wrinkles. Khimi feels the places that make Lumi vibrate, knows that the tips of his fingers are brushing against a sensitive spot; their lips so close, he can taste Lumi’s breath on his tongue.

“Lumi!” a woman’s voice calls in a panic, the sound of her sandals puncturing the quiet as she approaches. “Oh! You have done it this time. Saint Nina put you in charge of the caravan, specifically!”

“Godsdamnit, Amani!” Lumi groans, his cheeks flush with color. He straightens his tunic with a flustered expression. Turning back to the woman, he shouts, “Could you possibly be any more inconvenient!?” Anger flashes across his face. His tail brushes against the sand over the stony path.

Khimi sighs audibly. “I can see you have business to attend to,” he whispers, ripping his hand out from underneath the cloth. “As do I. Perhaps we will have the chance to talk again some other time?” He stands and turns to face the woman. “Excuse me, Amani, was it?” Khimi asks.

Amani tosses a judging look at Khimi. “Mmhmm,” she grunts, tossing her lengthy black hair over her shoulder. He gets the sense that the older woman is very aware of his intimate moment with the young aslan. “I am the High Priestess Amani.”

“High Priestess.” Khimi bows gently. “If you’ll pardon Lumi, I was distracting him from his duties,” he begins. “I was so caught up in his tale. It’s curious, an aslan not living with his tribe. We lost track of time,” he lies, gauging the woman’s expression.

“I-Its true!” Lumi exclaims, his eyes narrowing at Khimi. “We just got caught up talking.”

“Be that as it may, Lumi,” she begins, rocking on her heels, “this isn’t the first time that you’ve found a way to avoid work. You should really return to that caravan and help the oth—”

Khimi raises his hand. “I promise, it was my intervention that made it so Lumi couldn’t perform his duties,” he insists, interrupting the woman with a shake of his head. “I had grown exhausted from my travels and asked to take a moment of his time to show me around the temple. He can return now and finish taking stock with the crew if it pleases you.”

Amani narrows her eyes at Khimi, then at Lumi. “As you say. I suggest you return to work, Lumi,” she huffs. “I am sure Saint Nina will come to check on your progress shortly. I only came to give a warning.”

Lumi gives a low bow. “I will return to work immediately, Amani. If you see Nina, would you tell her I am doing the counts? Please? I’m begging!” Lumi exclaims, his hands clapped together in a pleading motion. “I don’t want her to think I’m slacking again!”

Amani scoffs. “But what if I think you are doing exactly that? I will tell her I crossed paths with you and that you said you would return to work,” she says, shaking her head with an angry scowl.

“Thank you! I will see Lord Zeybek to his camp first, then I will return to counting the cargo,” Lumi says, giving the woman a second bow. “I promise, promise!” he adds cheerfully.

“Right,” Amani snips, her eyes narrowing as she peers over the beastkin.

Khimi follows Lumi’s lead, offering the woman a bow. “High Priestess Amani,” he says, his head lowered, “it was an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance. May the winds of the west bring us rain.” He stands upright as he finishes.

“May the winds of the west bring us rain,” Amani repeats, returning the bow. She cannot hide her suspicious scowl, however. She turns back towards the temple but glances back at the pair as she exits. “The caravan, Lumi,” she clucks, “the counts!”

When the older woman leaves the vicinity, Khimi chuckles quietly. “Well then,” Khimi begins, turning to Lumi. “It seems you ought to get to work. I won’t keep you.”

“Maybe,” Lumi looks back towards the temple for a moment, then back up at the Khimi. “Maybe I want you to keep me. Maybe I need a distraction,” he says, his hand grabbing at Khimi’s forearm.

“Look, Lumi,” Khimi begins, looking down at him, “I was tired, and I had a moment of weakness. I don’t know if we should continue down this… path.”

Lumi glares in disbelief, staring back into Khimi’s piercing blue eyes. “You felt nothing moments ago?” he asks, his speech quickening. “Y-you didn’t want to kiss me? You didn’t want to t-touch me?” he hounds. “You didn’t want me!?”

“Of course I did,” Khimi replies, his voice filled with heat. He tosses Lumi’s hand aside. “What of it? I don’t even know you.” He pauses, looking into the aslan’s eyes. “And you’re a damned acolyte of the gods!” he exclaims, “Is there not some sacred vow of chastity?”

Lumi looks at Khimi with a look of distress. “That doesn’t matter!” he whispers, grasping Khimi’s hand. “I-it doesn’t matter if I am an acolyte and… If you want to know me first, then get to know me. I can wait for you. I’ve been here for years, and I don’t think I am goin’ anywhere soon!” he exclaims, his grip tensing.

“Your gods won’t forsake you for taking a lover?” Khimi asks, squeezing Lumi’s hand back.

Lumi sighs. “Some acolytes are called to celibacy… and others are not. Like me, I’ve always dreamed of the day I would find someone,” he says, stepping closer.

“And how would I know if you act like this with every man who comes to the temple?” Khimi asks, looking down as Lumi presses his body into him. “This all just feels so sudden,” he adds softly.

Lumi’s face screws up in anger. “I’ve never met anyone that I’ve felt this sort of connection with,” Lumi replies, placing his forehead against Khimi’s leather jerkin. “Don’t you feel it too? I know you can feel it!” he exclaims breathlessly.

Khimi stares in quiet contemplation, taking a lock of Lumi’s blond hair and rolling it between his fingertips. “Then, have you ever had a lover?” he asks in a hushed tone.

Lumi huffs against Khimi’s chest. “No, I’ve never had a lover. I’ve never had anyone who cared about me like that,” he whispers.

“Who says I care about you? The more you know me, the less you’ll like me,” Khimi says in a hushed tone. “You cannot think all you have to do is look at me once and know you care about me,” he adds skeptically.

“I don’t quite understand it myself,” Lumi begins, “but the moment I saw you, I felt my heart beating through my chest.”

Khimi grumbles, “Then your heart is playing tricks on you. Beastkin are al–”

“All emotional beasts?” Lumi finishes for him with palpable aggression in his voice. “That we’re driven by primal urges like animals. Is that what you were going to say?” he asks, then looks up at Khimi. “You’re just tryin’ to piss me off.”

Khimi purses his lips. He decides not to ask how Lumi knows his ploy. “It is a known truth that beastkin are driven to stronger emotions than men,” he says, pressing his face against Lumi’s hair. “Does your heart not play tricks on you?” Khimi mumbles between Lumi’s rounded ears.

Khimi can feel his own body stirring, an uncommon experience for him. Over his recent summers, he had seldom felt the intoxicating sensation of lust. Strands of Lumi’s hair stick to his lips, with a soft scent wafting up to him. He smells like heaven. Roses? He can hear Lumi’s soft breath, the beastkin’s chest rising and falling against him. His need grows by the moment, almost unbearable.

“You’re wrong,” Lumi mutters. “I’ve never felt this way before. And I could tell when we walked through the temple you felt something too!” he yells into Khimi’s leather jerkin. “All those times you stopped and looked at me. Don’t pretend you don’t know! I refuse to believe you have no idea what I’m talking about and that’s that.”

 Khimi can hardly think straight. His hand moves along Lumi’s shoulder, and the feel of the soft skin against his is unlike anything he had ever experienced before now. Supple, with a firmness behind it. Lumi’s words bother him more than he cares to admit, but he struggles for clarity. His mind feels dull, almost numb. Fuck. The tightness in his trousers causes him to shift his body, angling himself further from Lumi. I can’t do this.

“Even if I felt something, my life is already set out before me. You are not a part of that life,” Khimi whispers, his voice breaking briefly, “even if you were the person that the gods put before me for some reason. Duty calls me to something else, Lumi. Something that is not you. I am bound to serve my family.” He untangles himself from Lumi. “I really should go to sleep. My advisor, Rashid, he can help you finish counting.”

“So, this is it then, is it?” Lumi asks a disgruntled look on his face. “You won’t even take a chance at happiness… how sad of a man you are,” he says, watching Khimi walking down the stairs.

Khimi pauses on the stairs. “I may have to come back within the next few months,” he says, without turning back. “Maybe by my next visit, you’ll have moved on.” He continues downward.

“Fuck you, Khimi! Ugh!” Lumi calls, shouting through the canyon, “I will be waiting for you… I promise!” he shouts.

Khimi continues down the stairs, waving his hand dismissively. “Move on, little lion. It’s for the best,” he whispers to himself.

Khimi turns back once he nears the bottom of the stairs. At that distance, he can pick out Lumi’s silhouette in the darkness, staring down at him and shaking. The moment holds—the sight of Lumi’s steady, boyish form sends a shiver down Khimi’s spine. Behind him, the Sisters stand high in the sky, with the light from the temple at his back. Fucking hells. His heart thumps as if he were facing an adversary in the arena like he once did. Reflexively, he finds his hand on the hilt of his blade again. He can feel the intensity of Lumi’s eyes piercing through him without seeing them, those startling blues that reflect the light back at him. The drumming of his heart quickens; he cannot settle this blend of danger and arousal that fills him. He pulls his hand from the dagger and bites his knuckle with a growl. Not wanting to linger, Khimi shakes his head and quickens towards the caravan’s camp.

His eyelids feel like weighted lead by the time he nears the wagons. Almost immediately, Khimi spots the familiar tent by its rich maroon accents. He draws open the tent flap and sweeps inside. Rashid stirs from his sleep while Khimi lays down on the empty bedroll set out for him. He closes his eyes, only to hear his advisor humming and stretching.

Rashid rolls onto his side. “Khimi, y’re back later than expected. What happened? Ya did the counts?” he asks quizzically.

Khimi sighs. “I’d ask a favor of you,” he whispers.

“What can I do, lad?” Rashid asks, more alert as he sits up in his bedroll.

“I apologize, but I need you to ensure everything is accounted for with the saint’s assistant instead,” Khimi begins.

“Ya realized how much Aleyna’s been giving the temple, eh? Or perhaps ya just got a bit tired?” Rashid asks, his voice growing serious. “No, something else must be going on. I went to check on ya some time ago and noticed ya missing,” he adds, concern in his voice. “Are ya aware of what happens to me if something happens to ya? Y’r mother’d have my head.”

Khimi sits up on his elbows. “I-I doubt Aleyna has it in her to punish you,” Khimi counters. “I was in no danger, but there is something that—”

“Khimi!” Rashid interrupts. “I need ya to understand. I won’t follow ya everywhere… but just tell me before ya sneak away.” He pauses to glance at Khimi. “Now, what is this you’d have me do?”

Khimi grabs a handful of sand from the ground beside his bedroll. As he releases his grip, he watches as the granules slip through his fingers. He glances up to focus on the ceiling of the tent, watching the light from the moons shimmer brightly against the cloth. He turns towards Rashid, the shifting sand still slipping absentmindedly between his fingers.

“The saint’s assistant. He will be helping you with the counts,” Khimi whispers pensively, “and I’d like you to tell me what you make of him.”

Rashid scratches his chin while he weighs Khimi’s request. “Anythin’ in particular about this assistant of hers?” he asks with a baffled expression on his face. “Did he upset ya?”

Khimi grabs another handful of the sand. “He is an aslan, and he seems to be a person with an interesting past,” he sighs, closing his eyes to avoid Rashid’s expression. “And I find him very curious. We had an interaction.”

Rashid brightens at Khimi’s words. “Y-ya know that I support ya in anything that ya do, lad.”

“It’s been many years since I’ve been a lad,” Khimi mutters under his breath, “but I am ready for whatever lecture you’re about to give me.”

Rashid puffs his cheeks out. “Ya know that I’ve watched ya grow since ya were a child. I have never once seen ya take an interest in anyone,” he says with concern, “not a one! All those girls Aleyna had sent, a stream of attempted betrothals, barely a glance at them.”

“I did not say that I was interested in him, just that he was interesting!” Khimi corrects, raising his brow. “Don’t overreach.”

Physical relations between men are not frowned upon in the Desert Cities as they are in other regions of Talmus. However, Khimi had a duty to continue the Zeybek line, to produce an heir that would follow in his footsteps. Throughout his life, he had kept those feelings to himself, hiding them away from others. Even when men had come onto him or had offered to spend time with him, Khimi felt strong enough to refuse—to deny that need.

Rashid leans forward, crossing his hands over his stomach while he sits up. “If this aslan is someone who has caught y’r interest, then we should drag ‘em back to Rhaz with us,” he says excitedly.

Khimi laughs. “I believe that is a crime. Besides, this is more complex than that.”

“And does he take interest in ya?” Rashid asks, slowly gathering his belongings from the floor.

Khimi smiles to himself. “Rashid, this feels like Aleyna’s interrogations,” he says, peeking at his advisor with one open eye. “Whatever I say, I know you will report back to her,” he adds with a stifled smile.

“Khimi,” Rashid replies, in disbelief. “Ya know where my loyalty lies. I swore to my makers and swore an oath before the Sanctum of Balance that I would be y’r protector. Not Aylena’s, and praise the gods, not Ziad’s, but y’rs alone,” he finishes, beaming with obvious pride.

Khimi laughs. “I must say, I do always enjoy that speech of yours,” he says, slapping his hand against the sand moodily. “Rashid, would you promise to not embarrass me here? I know you well enough to assume you will, despite my request.”

Khimi hears Rashid scoff while he stands and exits the tent. His mind races back over the events from the evening, his heart pounding in his chest. Why did I push him away? Gods, is he right? Khimi thinks. Why must I always put my family before my happiness… His thoughts race, his fingers trembling over the buttons of his leather jerkin until it is fully removed. He slips it off his arms and lays it atop a small rucksack nearby. What would have happened if I just let myself go, he thinks to himself.

 Khimi’s fingers hastily unlace his leather trousers, then force them halfway down his thighs before his desire overcomes him. He grips his hardened length, stroking with unbridled lust. His thighs were so warm. His skin was so soft, and his eyes were mesmerizing. His eyes trail down his body, watching precum pool on his copper skin from his slickened tip.Slowing his pace to gently work his hand around the shaft, he rubs the foreskin back with his movements. I would love to have an hour alone with him, what I wouldn’t give–

His thoughts still while his body tenses with a sudden climax, a stream of ejaculate spraying onto his abdomen and chest. What the fuck is wrong with me? He thinks, hurriedly rushing to wipe off the milky fluid on his body with a kerchief. He removes his trousers and pulls the fur-lined bedroll over himself. Closing his eyes, he replays the events from the night repeatedly, fantasizing potential outcomes.

***

Khimi wakes the next day to the familiar sound of Rashid’s humming. Midday rays shine brightly through the open flap of the tent. The heat of it pushes Khimi to sit up and remove the fur-lined blanket. Rashid stops to glance at Khimi before continuing to pack his things into a rucksack. Khimi watches the older man’s expression, concerned with the frankness of their conversation the night before.

“Good morning,” Khimi offers and clears his throat. “What did you make of last night?” he asks, attempting to hide his keen interest with a yawn.

“Khimi, I think we should pack and save any discussion for the road,” Rashid said with a soft chuckle. He walks towards Khimi. “Probably best ya get dressed now; the saint wants to see us off and offer her thanks,” he adds, tousling Khimi’s raven hair.

Khimi runs a hand through his cropped hair and groans. “I think you forget I am an adult,” he grumbles, “but tell me what you found out. Did you meet him?”

“Yes, it was as you said. Lumi is… well, he is quite interestin’. And he has quite the interest in ya, it seems,” Rashid murmurs, patting the younger man’s shoulder. “Though we should save this for the road. We’ve only so many daylight hours to pack. As it stands, y’ve already missed y’r chance to speak with the saint in private.”

Khimi grimaces as he stirs, quickly dressing and packing his few belongings laid about their tent. Finally finished loading his rucksack, he looks out through the open flap. He can see their wagons are already packed, with only supplies necessary to make the journey back. Khimi furrows his brow in thought. What a damn waste to come all this way and yet take nothing back. The Cerulean Star won’t make anything from this… wasted effort. His eyes scan the canyon, looking for Lumi’s figure amongst the acolytes there to bid their farewells.

“If y’r lookin’ fer the aslan,” Rashid says, interrupting Khimi’s search. He covers his eyes from the midday sun with an open palm. “He’s just gone to bed a moment ‘fore ya woke. But, just so ya know, he asked me if he could see ya off. I told him that it was probably—what’s that face for?”

Khimi scoffs, masking his expression. “I was making sure we were all clear to head out at sundown,” he answers, “I was not looking for anything in particular. Admiring the weather.”

Rashid smiles, his lips curving into a wide grin. “Don’t be an ass, boy,” he says, teasing him. “I’ve watched over ya since Saint Davani blessed y’r birth. I know when y’re lying.”

“Everyone has been acting like they know me lately,” Khimi sighs just as he finishes dressing. The laces on his jerkin are strung tight. “It is very unfamiliar to me.?”

“Well, if there is anyone who knows ya, it would be me,” Rashid boasts, placing a hand on Khimi’s shoulder. “In y’r years, I’ve seen ya become an outstanding man. I’ve seen ya turn down dozens of betrothals, a handful of concubines, and from what I hear, an untold number of whores,” he says with a chuckle.

Khimi pats the older man’s hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate your words, but there are things that are just difficult to say, especially to someone who seems to know every detail of my life,” he sighs as he looks over the camp.

Rashid huffs, “I’ve allowed us to avoid this conversation far too long. When we get into the desert tonight, we will talk. Rather, ya will listen to what I have to say,” he grumbles, “regardless if ya want to hear it or not.”

Khimi gives Rashid a knowing glance. “I’ll be all ears if only because I respect your advice,” he says with a strained voice.

Rashid slings his rucksack over his shoulder, walking beside the caravan. “I am going to the wagon for a few. The saint will bless our caravan when we pass through the canyon this evening.”

Khimi follows his advisor and tosses his own rucksack into the wagon. Alone, he then walks to the stairs up from the canyon, pausing to admire the beauty of the palms shivering against the sea breeze. Maybe all that water isn’t a waste after all, he thinks on his climb up the staircase. Every so often, he catches sight of one or another of the countless desert succulents that bloomed to life from the steady drips of water from the aqueducts. Reaching the top of the stairs, he looks ahead to the two rows of palms swaying in front of the massive temple. He nods at the acolytes while he walks the path, and they offer gentle bows in reply.

Past the reflecting pool, he stops yet again to recall the words Lumi had spoken to him the night before. I am like you, so I know you. A haunting feeling comes over Khimi at the realization that Lumi may be the only person to have ever understood him with such haste to understand his desires. He continues his journey past the reflecting pool, passing the familiar columns before he turns and heads up the sandstone stairs that felt ever present in his thoughts. Nearing the top, he hears the sound of water pouring down the fountain. Water drips heavily from many points along the aqueducts running on either side. Khimi cups his hands and fills them with the freshwater. Bringing it to his lips, the chill of the water quenches his unexpected thirst.

Standing so near the fountain, as he did last night with Lumi, he finds himself reflecting on their conversation. Though he was tired, the words are clear in his mind. ‘During the day, you can see miles ahead in the desert to the east and then across the ocean to the west. The breeze smells so strongly of salt, and you find yourself wanting to sleep because of how peaceful it is!’ He sits on a sandstone bench and follows the beastkin’s words with his eyes: first peering out towards the desert, where the heat causes the light to bend above the sand, then towards the ocean, feeling the salty breeze caress his face. He lies down on the sandstone bench and closes his eyes, finding himself lulled by the fountain’s repetitive splashing and drifts into semi-consciousness.

As he dreams deeply, the scene has him again along the fountain, his head resting in the aslan’s lap on the bench. He turns up to look into those deep aqua eyes, and their aetherial glow stares back at him. Lumi’s mouth moves yet words unheard pass from his lips. Khimi watches those lips until he reaches up to caress Lumi’s soft pink cheek. The beastkin beams down at him, and he runs his fingertips across Khimi’s stubble while he continues to speak inaudibly. Khimi watches him until he pauses and looks up, peering out over the desert. A long shadow suddenly casts itself over them both.

Khimi awakens violently, aware of a nearby presence. Needing to shield his eyes from the sun, he makes out a silhouette past his hand. “Lumi?” he asks quietly.

“No,” replies the somewhat familiar voice of a woman, “though I can infer quite a lot by your question.”

“O-oh, High Priestess Amani?” Khimi asks and sits up from the bench. “I ask your pardon for last night. I was not in my right mind.”

She glares down at Khimi, a quivering scowl on her thin lips. She sits beside him. “Lord Zeybek,” she replies, tightening her shawl as well as her scowl. “I believe it was the gods’ work that made our paths cross here.” She pauses, her expression collected and stoic.

“Oh, pray tell. What do the gods have prepared for me?” he asks her. Absentmindedly, he reaches to rub a crick in his neck. “I am not fond of fate… or of any belief that our destiny is determined by the gods. You remind me of the aslan.”

“Then you are a fool, as are many proud men. You think too highly of yourself,” Amani’s replies belie her disappointment. “I was going to inform you that Lumi is gifted with some… significant gifts of divination. He has a belief…” She pauses, seemingly struggling to find the words, but continues on. “He believes that you are his… as we would say in High Talman, his Animae dimidium meae. Rather, ‘the Other Half of the Soul’. I understand that you are not of the Faith, but know that he believes this with all of his heart.”

Khimi exhales sharply and shakes his head. “He must be mistaken. I barely know him. Perhaps there is something wrong with him, clearly he is me—”

“Confused?” Amani scoffs. “You’re quick to judge. I would have thought someone of your standing might learn to be open-minded. But perhaps being the son of Emir Ziad Zeybek, you have liberty to be so complacent in your thinking.” She adjusts her shawl, looking slightly uncomfortable. She clears her throat with an audible ahem. “Lord Zeybek, I could tell you felt something towards him. I saw it myself last night. Deny all you wish; your agitation confirms it.”

“Were you skulking about the bushes like some beast?” Khimi snaps at her. “I have to question if this is some sort of setup. Is the saint so desperate that she’d blackmail her benefactor’s own son?” he asks, scoffing at the woman.

“It would be wise to watch your tone, my lord.” Amani glares at him. “I will not take insults against Saint Nina. She is the very reason you exist. So you can thank the heavens that she begged the gods for your birth, you ingrate,” Amani spits, tying a tight knot on her shawl. “Besides, if you might ever amount to anything higher than Emir Ziad Zeybek, perhaps it would be prudent to learn to control your temper, no?”

Khimi stares in disbelief at the high priestess. Never in his life had anyone spoken to him in such a bold way, not unless they had a weapon pointed at him. He could not help but feel equally threatened at this moment. “You’re one to talk. So then, if there is no use denying, and if I am to be this… person for Lumi,” he starts, averting his gaze from the woman. “What would I need to do?”

“To be there for him when he needs you most,” Amani replies, her voice gentler. “Lumi needs someone strong, someone who can care for him. He is emotional, indignant, and aggressive. He is also kind, trustworthy, and loyal. He needs someone in whom he can believe. Someone who will believe in him, in turn. He needs his Animae dimidium meae. Sometime before your arrival, he received a vision that told him he would be leaving the temple. It is rare to be granted such a clear message, but Lumi seems plenty favored by the divine. For whatever reason… I can’t explain myself, but it is obvious to me that he was meant for something other than this temple. I think it is clear he was meant to be with you.” She pauses to clear her throat. “I understand that you feel as though you cannot trust me nor those of us at the temple. I ask only that you think about what I’ve said. If you are what Lumi thinks that you are, then you must have felt an undeniable pull to him, something that defies your reason.”

“I believe he picked the wrong person,” Khimi chuckles, color rising in his cheeks. He turns from her and peers across the desert. “I do not even know who I am enough to help him,” he whispers. “Truly, I feel constantly lost… my place in the world is just as unsure as the shifting sands of the Desert Cities.”

“You know yourself more than you think. In our hearts, we all know who we are,” Amani replies with a solemn nod. She stands from their bench and looks out over the desert alongside him. “He believes this with all his heart. Please give it a chance.” She moves to the staircase. “Write to him, perhaps. I will make sure he receives anything you send. With luck, you will find yourself more fond of our order, in time,” she says, glancing back. “Any more questions?”

“Is it real?” Khimi murmurs under his breath.

Nevertheless, the high priestess hears him and lowers her head in thought. “The truth is, I struggle myself with the concept of fate, that our lives are predestined. But I can tell that Lumi is not meant for this temple. His place in the world is elsewhere… and he is surely not happy here, though he often wears a smile on his face. He wants to be loved. The boy has known more hardships than he would tell you. He needs love.”

Khimi groans and drags his palm across his face. “I can’t help but think all of this is some mistake… I am nothing more than a merchant now.”

Amani smiles. “If only that were true,” she replies before she takes the first steps down the stairs. Then, without a final glance, she says, “You’re much more than a merchant, Khimi.”

Khimi sits, pondering the priestess’ words. Fate? If he knew so much, why didn’t he just tell me… maybe then he wouldn’t have come off as so forceful. Hells, what should I do? He stands, looking towards the canyon. Remembering the late hour, Khimi rushes on his way back towards the caravans. The dozen wagons are prepared and ready to depart; Baqil nods to him as he approaches and gestures for him to board the wagon. Khimi pulls himself quickly into the cabin of the caravans’ lead. He can see Rashid asleep, curled over his rucksack on the seat inside. Deciding against waking the man, Khimi sits on the bench across from him in silence, opening the flap slightly to look ahead at the desert.

Khimi slaps his hand against the wooden plank. “Is it time, Baqil?” he asks. His gaze sits past the cart’s driver.

“Aye, you missed the saint, I’m afraid. We all thought it best to give you a moment to collect yourself before we left. Don’t fear, we haven’t lost much time. The sun has barely begun to set,” Baqil whispers, his eyes darting towards Khimi, then back to the sleeping Rashid.

“I am afraid I have already slept, Baqil,” Khimi murmurs, pulling himself to the front of the wagon. “Would you mind if I stayed up here for a time?”

Baqil smiles. “Lord Zeybek is welcome to do as he pleases,” he replies, holding open the canvas flap for the young lord.

Khimi nods his thanks, then takes his seat beside Baqil. “I’m ready to be home.”

“Did you collect yourself, then? Rashid, especially, was adamant we give you time,” Baqil says, glancing sideways at Khimi. The driver clicks his tongue briskly and spurs their horses to a trot.

Khimi exhales sharply. “I suppose I was able to reflect on some. By chance, did a young blond beastkin come to the caravan?” he asks, peering back through the curtain.

“Hard to say,” Baqil replies cautiously, “there were dozens of beastkin that came to see us off. I fear I didn’t take careful note of their features.”

Khimi curses under his breath. “Baqil, I’m sorry, you have worked hard. If you should like to rest, I can take the reins,” he adds.

“It is alright, Khimi,” Baqil says. “I’ve just awoken a few short hours ago myself.”

Khimi rests his head against his hand, drifting into deep thought. For the hours that pass, the wagon sways to and fro, and the canyon walls keep them in darkness. Repeatedly, Khimi catches his sight of the temple as it fades into the distance. Figures can be seen atop the canyon walls, gazing down at their departure. Khimi leans back, resting against the wooden driver’s seat.

Wonder if Lumi came to see us off.

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, Khimi watches the stars as they spread slowly across the sky. Against the harsh desert scene, hundreds of twinkling lights fill the night. His mind returns to the events at the temple. Lost in contemplation, he is eventually startled by a loud clang from within the wagon. He sits up quickly and looks to the source of the noise; inside, Rashid was woken by the caravan’s rocking, the contents of his rucksack splayed across the floor. Khimi pulls open the curtain to return to the wagon cabin, moving to help Rashid pick up the metal cups and spoons from his mess kit.

Khimi looks over at his advisor. “Finally awake, eh?”

“Awake?” Rashid asks groggily. “Barely! Slept like shite. Pour me a drink – ouzo, arak, something strong,” he pleads as he rubs his thumbs against his weary eyes.

Khimi frowns at the elderly man. “Alright,” he begins while rummaging. “Is our conversation going to be so serious that it requires a drink?” He collects a metal cup from the cabin floor and a large bottle nestled beneath his seat. He pours the distilled beverage into the cup, offering it to Rashid.

“Khimi,” Rashid begins, taking the metal cup from Khimi’s hand. He takes a contemplative sip and then nervously sucks his teeth. “I spoke with a woman at the temple. I sent her to talk to ya, as well.” He pauses, gauging Khimi’s reaction. “Anyway, she had approached me. Asked me some personal things about ya–of course, I did my best to skirt the subject. She said ya were someone important to that boy, to the aslan. Apparently, it’s something serious. This is why ya asked me about him, wasn’t it?” Khimi watches as his advisor shuffles his feet. He cannot recall if they have ever had a similar conversation.

“She approached me, yes,” Khimi starts and glances up from the floor. “He believes our meeting was fated, that our lives are bound by fate, that our souls are intertwined or something.” Khimi tries to gauge Rashid’s reaction now. “I don’t know, it all sounds ridiculous to me.”

“I’m conflicted,” Rashid replies. “While I do want ya to enjoy y’rself and let loose on occasion… this sounds a little something more.” He leans back to rest against the wooden plank; he runs his fingers through his gray hair and then rubs his eyes once more. “That woman said the aslan is gifted with divination. Said he saw ya coming months before y’r arrival. As a man of the Faith, I have to say I find that exciting… but I don’t believe it’s y’r place to have to live for someone else.”

“I understand what you mean. But will you not tell me what you made of him last night?” Khimi asks in a whisper, leaning into their conversation.

Rashid shakes his head. “He is certainly good at his job. He’s quick at counting but slow at reading. Illiterate, perhaps. But the main thing… the only thing he wanted to discuss was ya,” he says, alongside a long sip of ouzo. “Did ya have any partners, is there a scent that y’re keen on, do ya drink, et cetera,” Rashid continues. “The only thing that I know for certain? If this demi-hum–er, rather, if this aslan makes ya happy, or if he’s something ya want to pursue, ya won’t need to try very hard to win his affections.” Khimi hears a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Khimi slams his back against the wooden plank. He rubs his brow in frustration. “This trip has been totally confusing. Yes, something almost happened between us last night. To be fair, he was encouraging me—clinging to me! But I can’t deny that I felt tempted. More tempted than I have ever been,” he sighs, then slams the back of his head against the plank even harder.

Rashid winces at his display. Khimi feels his eyes well with tears. “Don’t hurt y’rself, lad,” Rashid says. “What ya felt, was it mere lustful thoughts? Was it more? Ya know that y’r heart might race for a whore more than it may for y’r wife.”

Khimi’s face screws up at Rashid’s comment. “You have such a way with words,” he replies, attempting to rub away the flush coming to his cheek. “I felt something for him before he even propositioned me. There is some energy about him. There is a kind of comfort in just being near him.” He groans, looking to Rashid for support. “I sound pathetic like this.”

Rashid laughs. “If this is y’r weakness, ya stand in concert with many a great man.” He then puts a hand on Khimi’s shoulder. “Khimi, I will always look out for y’r best interest. Ya need to come here again, on our next run, and ya need to get to know the aslan, if he’d make ya happy. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen ya take an interest in romance!” He pats Khimi’s shoulder and offers a sly, understanding smile.

“I take your words into consideration,” Khimi says, rubbing at his welling eyes before the tears spill. He shifts from Rashid’s gaze. “May I have a moment alone? I need to clear my thoughts.”

“Very well,” Rashid says and stands up from the bench.

Khimi watches Rashid pull himself through the flap to climb beside Baqil. With his back pressed against the wooden planks, he grabs the bottle of ouzo that Rashid left behind. The bottle to his lips, the heat of the liquor pouring down his throat. I should have given in, he thinks, and then places the bottle beside him. I haven’t the faintest idea how to pleasure another man. Would he expect me to… to be with him, when I return? No, I am getting ahead of myself. He rubs his eyes, the burning sensation of the ouzo continues running through him. Hells, he was gorgeous. I wish I could have seen him and said farewell properly. Perhaps it would have ended like those Lorian sonnets.

“He probably will want to lie together. Little fiend,” Khimi mutters to himself, breaking into a snarky smile. He rolls onto his side and looks out the back of the wagon, down the length of the caravan trailing behind them. His imagination spins up dreamy thoughts of their next meeting.

---

^[1] Beastkin: Among the most populous races in Talmus, Beastkin possess traits reminiscent of various animals. Some examples include ikati (felines), canis (canines), vulpo (foxes), and lupo (wolves). It is uncommon for beastkin to form meaningful bonds outside their own kind, and it is unlikely that reproduction will occur between beastkin and other races. Occasionally, they are disparagingly referred to as “Demi-humans.”

^[2] Aslan(AZ-lan): Beastkin with lion-like traits. As a subspecies of ikati, aslan possess eyes that can dilate in response to changes in light between day and night. Unlike lions, aslan can purr, thanks to their connection to the ikati lineage.

^[3] Sidi(SEE-dee): This Desert City is crowded with a large population and abundant wealth. The council of advisors, overseen by a religious leader, holds the reins of power. Visually, it combines elements from Ancient Egypt and Greece but also boasts its own unique culture.

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