Page 4 of Dark Chains: First Link
Burda nodded. "The best part is that men no longer come here. Supposedly, it will stay this way until the renovations are completed."
That was the best part, and Sullha hoped the renovations would take a long, long time. Forever.
"Immortal warriors have never set foot in the enclosure," Burda said. "Not in my lifetime, and I'm old." She lifted her head and looked at Sullha. "Something is happening. I don't know what, but I've lived long enough to know when the pattern breaks, and when to brace for changes. Something is brewing."
"Maybe it has to do with Lord Navuh going to the harem." Sullha kept her voice low. "The rumors say he hasn't been seen in months. Things have been different since he disappeared."
"You think he's dead?" Burda whispered.
Since rumors of Lord Navuh's strange move to the harem had started infiltrating the enclosure, a slew of theories had been floating around, and one of them was that he was dead, probably assassinated by his sons.
"I think it's possible," Sullha said. "Everything on this island is connected because one man controlled all of it, and with him gone, the threads start unraveling."
Burda regarded her with approval. "You're smarter than you let on, girl."
"I let on plenty. People just don't listen because I'm nineteen and look fifteen."
"Being underestimated is not always a disadvantage."
No. It wasn't.
Sullha had figured that out early, back when she was a child, and the bigger kids had assumed she was too small to be worth noticing. Being overlooked meant being left alone, and being left alone meant being free to observe, to think, and to figure out how to best survive in this place. Her own mother was worthless, having lost her will to live a long time ago. She hadn't loved Sullha. She'd never had the capacity to love anyone.
The rules were simple and brutal.
Don't resist when summoned.
Don't ask questions.
Don't form attachments to your sons because they will be taken from you.
Don't dream of a different life because there isn't one.
Sullha obeyed the first two, but she'd broken the third and fourth so completely that she no longer pretended otherwise.
"He looked at me," she said, circling back because she couldn't help it. "The one in front. The one I thought was Yaaf. When I stood up and put Tomek behind me, he looked right at me, and for a split second, there was something behind the blankness."
"You saw what you wanted to see."
"Maybe. But I don't think so."
Burda sighed. "Let's say you're right. Let's say that was your childhood friend inside that big soldier's body, and let's say he recognized you, too. So what? What does it change? He walked out. He left. He went back to where he and the others belonged. Nothing is different."
"He said he wasn't here to take anyone. Just to observe."
"And you believed him?"
"My gut believed him, and my gut is rarely wrong."
Burda's mouth curved into a mockery of a smile. "Your gut is five years old and thinks plants don't breathe."
Sullha laughed, and the sound startled Nessa, who looked up from her supervisory duties and scowled at them as if laughter in the vegetable garden was a violation of protocol.
"He came back," Sullha said. "Two days later. With just one other soldier, which was less terrifying but not by much."
"I know. I was there. I told them I didn't know anything, and they left. Again." Burda sat back and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, leaving a smudge of dirt. "What concerns me is not the visits themselves. It's that they came twice. Once could be curiosity. A patrol that wandered off course and decided to pay us a visit because Lord Navuh is not around, and the rats feel brave. Twice implies intent."
Intent.
