| |
NAHLI
Nahli finished perusing the closet and hesitantly moved to stare at herself. An oval mirror hung on the wall, reflecting her anxious skeleton. Why was she feeling nervous? It was only Anton, but the idea of dancing with him, touching him, felt extremely intimate.
Unless he didn’t mean slow dancing. He could mean the kind that involves laughing and clapping, while being happily inebriated. Except she wouldn’t be tipsy, and there would be no one around to clap, unless he meant for Roka to do the clapping for them. She shook her head at her mirror image, urging herself to stop overthinking everything.
Her skeletal reflection didn’t frighten her, yet she missed the rest of herself. But the thought of Anton possibly looking at her as if she were something more than bones tickled straight to her marrow. If only there was color in the Bone Valley, then she could try and highlight her cheekbones with rouge to take away from him staring at her teeth. The chipped tooth of her lower canine stood out now, more prominent than ever.
Enough with the mirror. Prying herself away, she turned to face the clothing lying on top of the mattress. One was similar to the dress she’d worn when she had first woken in the Bone Valley. The other was the pair of trousers she’d had on earlier.
Nahli decided to go bold. When she was with Zikri, there had been no friendly dances. Even growing up together as close friends, it was always composed of her following him everywhere and doing what he wanted to do. Whether it was watching his swordplay, drinking with his friends, or running his bow across his fiddle. Never did he ask her to practice swords with him when his friends were around or to drink some of his wine, nor had he taught her to create music on the fiddle. The realization had struck her after he left that she should have known how selfish he’d always been.
Anton hadn’t told her what to wear tonight—as Zikri would have—he’d left it up to her. And tonight, she wanted the dress. Nahli peered down at the white silk, embroidered with black roses along the bottom. Taking the smooth material in her arms, she slid it over her head. The sleeves fell right below her elbows, dark lace peeking out along the edges. Black thorns with vines were stitched across the waist, and the neckline displayed part of her upper rib cage.
As tedious as it was, she managed to clasp the buttons lining the back and tie the sash at the sides into a bow behind her.
Nahli peered down at her toes and wiggled them in delight before pulling the strap from her hair to loosen it. She hadn’t worn her hair down in so long, usually only when bathing. The white hair was strikingly different compared to her naturally dark strands, but the texture felt the same—straight and thick, though slight waves remained from the braid.
She secured a black ribbon with a silver pendant tightly at her neck and gazed into the mirror one last time. Feeling as satisfied as she could, she went into the other room where she found Roka lounged in a rocking chair, knitting.
His two skeletal hands were tiny in comparison to the large needles, but he worked the dull yarn fluidly.
“You know how to knit?” she asked, surprised.
“Apparently so,” he said, holding up a needle. “This scarf was already started, and I examined the material to see how it was done. It is quite relaxing, if you want to try.”
“Perhaps later, though I’m much better with a needle and thread.” When she lived with her parents, there was a lot of sewing to do around the house. Mainly Nahli’s or her mother’s clothing would get ripped during swordplay, and she would have to mend them.
Before leaving, she gave Roka another glance. He was still rocking in the chair. “Are you coming?”
He shooed her away. “Possibly later. I think Anton meant for you two lovers to be alone tonight. No meerkats allowed.”
“Don’t say that!” she exclaimed. There was no “L” word between them. Nahli had started to enjoy his company—that was all.
“One male skeleton and one female skeleton. Your options are not aplenty here in the Bone Valley,” Roka teased, waving a needle in her direction.
She ignored him and strolled out into the dense fog.
Its thickness enveloped her until she thought she could feel the precipitation entwined around her bones. With how much the fog had draped down upon the Bone Valley, the distance was difficult to see.
Flipping her palm up in front of her, she whispered, “Light.”
The bright white orb appeared in the middle of her hand, and Nahli let it guide her way. As the light bathed her surroundings, it cast everything in a beautifully eerie glow while she stepped along the stone toward the garden.
That was the first place she guessed Anton would be. It was the spot where they’d spent most of their time together, besides for the day in the lake after escaping the beasts.
The only sounds surrounding her were the usual clanking of bones falling from the sky. She was growing used to it, and sometimes she didn’t even notice or hear them anymore. Up ahead, a bright light, that matched the one in her hand, caused what felt like a heart to speed up in her chest, even though she no longer had one. She thought, perhaps, the shadow of a heart could have been left behind.
Nahli took a measured step into the garden, spotting the exposed holes from where Roka had dug. Roka had decided to leave them open in case Nahli or Anton wanted to latch onto a glimpse of the color that was almost forgotten, a reminder not to lose hope.
She wanted to believe in that word, and she chose to do just that.
A silhouette of Anton arose, his hair neatly tied back. He wore a dark jacket, with a coattail in the back, over an ash-colored vest. Gray trousers covered his long legs and stopped just above his bare feet. Handsome. That was how she chose to describe him. She wouldn’t say he looked better than before, because whatever he wore suited him, but the clothing made him seem like a different version of himself.
Displaying his orb in front of him, he tossed it into the air, like a trick, so it floated above the two of them.
The brightness of it shone above them as the blackness inside glittered. Nahli glanced down at her orb, before laughing and tossing it in the air beside his.
The orbs seemed to watch each other as the darkness inside shifted to the edges. They then circled each other, round and around, in a slow spinning waltz.
“Are you doing that?” Nahli asked in awe, teeth parted.
“No.” Anton’s flames dropped from the spectacle to meet hers. He stared at her for a long moment before mumbling, “You look—you look lovely.”
“Are you sure?” She smiled. “You sounded unsure.”
He nodded and reached a hand toward a lock of her hair. Then he seemed to think better of it as he squeezed the air, slowly pulling his fingers away. “You don’t have your hair in a braid.”
“Thought I’d try something different.”
“Both styles suit you,” he said.
The flutters in her chest appeared again, the butterfly wings expanding in size. Slightly on edge, Nahli combed her nervous fingers through her hair and studied the rock path under her feet. “Do you prefer it black, though?”
“I like it either way.”
Remembering to be bold for the night, Nahli reached out and stroked the collar of his jacket. “I think you look dazzling yourself.”
His jaw fell slightly open, in what she knew would be a wolfish smile if he had his lips to form around his teeth. It should have been haunting, grotesque, and bizarre standing in a dead garden in front of this skeletal man, but it wasn’t. It felt positively splendid.
“Shall we?” Anton asked, stretching his hand out to her.
Angling her flames up to the orbs before making contact once more, Nahli placed her hand in his. There was no perspiration, and if this had taken place in Kedaf, her palm would have been clammy as soon as their fingertips brushed.
His touch released tingles in her digits that spread up to her skull, all the way down to her toes. Her flames couldn’t quite meet his. Anton drew her in, and she placed her arms around his neck, still avoiding gazing into his blazing eye sockets.
When he placed his hands on her lower spine, she held back a shiver. They moved in sync with a steady step forward, sidestep, backward, sidestep, forward—over and over and over, until she took initiative and spun him around.
He chuckled out of surprise, seeming not to have expected that from her. But then he twisted her around three times before lifting her feet from the ground. A small squeak escaped her teeth, her flames finally meeting his, and holding, until he lowered her.
Above them, the dancing orbs highlighted Anton and Nahli in the fog, and something made her want to reach up to stroke his strong jaw. But she didn’t. What was it about this night that was different than the other times she’d spent with him? Was she moving too fast? Either way, she didn’t care.
They danced, and they danced, not once tiring.
Nahli and Anton fell back to a steady pace, and she felt this was the right moment to tell him about her past. Because she wanted to, not because she had to.
She studied his chiseled features as she spoke, “I came to Kedaf because my parents wanted to marry me off and send me away for a profit.”
His rhythmic movements stalled, and his lightness faded. “And that’s why you started thieving, because you had to run away?”
The next part was harder for her to admit, because she’d been a thief from the beginning. “I had a childhood friend named Zikri, and he wanted to take me away, save me from my family. More than anything, I wanted to save myself.
“I stole from my parents to get us away. Not a little, but a lot of coin.” She hurried on, “But I was going to pay them back. I just needed us to get away first, and we would each find work, and send back as much as we could at a time.”
Their dancing had stopped, but Anton still held her hand in his. For some reason, it made Nahli feel braver, rather than wanting to run away. If this had happened in Kedaf, she didn’t know if she could have revealed the rest to him. She wasn’t used to this vulnerability.
“When we came to Kedaf, we were starting to figure things out. He confessed his love, and I felt that I loved him, too.” She stared at Anton’s face, forcing herself to not look away from him. “So, I—I gave myself to him. The next day, he took with him everything I had and fled, leaving only me behind.”
“You had absolutely nothing, then?” Anton whispered, no judgment in his voice.
She took her hand away from his. “It was my fault, though. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t left Huadu.”
“And then what? You would have been sold off.” Anger etched through his voice, but not at Nahli, as he stepped closer toward her. “It’s almost as unfortunate as me having to do what I did, except you wouldn’t have been getting paid for it—your parents would have.”
“I tried, Anton. I was serious when I told you before that I looked for work everywhere I could.” If she had tears, they would be falling down her cheekbones. “I’m sorry I tried to steal from your family that day. I only wanted to get home to pay mine back. But if I had returned, I would have still been forced to marry. And I mean beaten, bound, gagged and sold off, so I started to think about going somewhere else.”
“I wish you’d told me this that day in the market, then I wouldn’t have stolen your satchel.”
“Then I wouldn’t have taken your clothing, but I still would have had the chicken and bread with me.”
He chuckled, rubbing his bony thumb against her forearm.
“It resulted in pocketing jewelry that wasn’t worth anything,” Nahli said. “Daryna was so frustrated. She said some pretty nasty things, and so I ran out of her house with the chicken and the bread. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“She could have cast a spell on you, correct?”
She gave him a soft shove. “Come on, Anton, you know that’s all gossip. I’ve worked with her on many occasions.”
“Then why would she need herbs?” he asked, tilting his skull to the side.
“She does tinker in healing remedies, I believe.” As to whether or not those worked, she couldn’t have said.
The sound of hands clapping echoed through the fog behind her. Nahli whirled around and Anton brought her closer to him, only to find Roka making the noise.
“I thought you two were going to dance.” Roka ended his clapping charade as he hopped on all fours toward them. “It looks like there is only talking occurring out here.”
Annoyance radiated through Anton’s posture, but Nahli knelt to let Roka scurry up to her shoulder. “Did you tire from knitting already?” she asked with a laugh.
“Yes, I did. Anton, you now have a new scarf.” He pointed a finger toward Anton.
Rolling his flames, Anton clapped his hands with cadence. Nahli felt shy at first, but she began to slowly spin while Roka held onto her neck and shoulder.
After five spins, the meerkat said, “Enough. I must get down—my head feels nauseated.”
She came to a sudden halt, and Roka scurried down her spine, hopping to the ground.
“Do you want to dance again or sit for a moment?” Anton asked.
Nahli wasn’t feeling tired at all, and she was having the most fun she’d ever had in her life.
“Dance for a little longer,” she murmured, extending her hand out to his.
With an open-jaw smile, Anton threaded his fingers with hers. He pulled her close, his hand resting on the lower edge of her spine, and she pressed the side of her skull against his shoulder. They swayed side to side, her thumb rubbing the vertebrae of his neck. A low sound escaped through his teeth, and she shifted forward as close as she could get.
A speedy clap came from behind her, and she turned her head to Roka. “No fast dancing right now.” She grinned, then her jaw shut tight when she discovered that it wasn’t Roka clapping, but a woman.
Nahli stared at her harder. No, not a woman, but someone otherworldly—beautiful and deadly. Two long deer antlers protruded at the female’s forehead, dark curled hair tumbled down her waist, and she wore a sheer black dress, revealing everything underneath. Obsidian eyes stuck out against her silvery skin, boring into her.
Maryska.
Gripping Nahli’s hand tighter, Anton hauled her behind him and shielded her. His skeletal frame shook with fury and Nahli peeked around him at the intruder.
Maryska’s clapping ended abruptly, and she inched nearer. Anton stepped backward, causing Nahli to do the same.
“How sweet,” Maryska purred. “My king has built himself a queen, one you can’t hide. Too bad bones can easily become broken.”
An intense, fiery pain ran across Nahli’s thigh bone, followed by a loud, deafening snap. She would never forget what it sounded and felt like, as her body slumped to the ground. Anton tried to catch her but came a moment too late. Nahli’s hand hit a rock beside the garden, saving her skull from cracking against it. She motioned him away, letting him know she was all right.
“What do you want?” Anton gritted his teeth, making himself a barrier between Nahli and Maryska.
With how badly her femur throbbed, she wanted to scream. But instead, she held it in, not wanting to show any weakness to this cruel creature.
Maryska tapped her cheek with a dark, pointed fingernail. “Since you seem to have taken a liking to the skeletal female, try piecing her back together again.” She slammed her hands against one another, clasping them tightly before her.
A heavy ache enveloped Nahli before she fell away into a cloaking darkness.
She couldn’t feel any part of herself, unable to move her arms, legs, or even the flames that were in her eye sockets. Were the flames even there anymore? Before her, there was nothing except for emptiness.
Nahli tried to scream, prayed to her gods to listen to her, and let her at least make this one sound. But she knew they wouldn’t hear her, because they didn’t really exist in the afterlife. Only this creature with antlers did.
She wished she could have at least curled to her side, holding herself, but she couldn’t even do that.
Thoughts swam through her head. Her parents were there. Mother, with her hair shaved to the scalp and her disappointed face. Father, with his belt in hand, and his head cocked.
A rope was in one of her mother’s grips and chains in the other. “How could you steal from us?” she asked, edging closer.
“All you had to do was get yourself wed, then we all could have lived happily,” Father said, slapping the belt against his palm.
I’m sorry, she tried to say, but no sound emerged.
The image shook from her head, and Zikri was there, kneeling before her, cheeks flustered. “You knew how this would always end. Sweet, innocent, and gullible Nahli. Did you think I really cared for you?”
Yes, she wanted to whisper.
“You did, didn’t you? You should have seen how many other girls I’d tumbled with. In the moment, I feel like I’m in love, but then after I seize what I want, it’s not going to keep me around.” He dangled the bag with all her parents’ coin before her. “This will help me on my journey, and maybe I’ll find someone I truly want.”
Daryna came before her next. “All I asked was for you to do simple tasks. Was it that difficult to bring me what I requested?” She lifted her hand to slap Nahli across the face. “Boda will have to do the rest of the jobs for me.”
Muscular Boda appeared behind Daryna’s back and ran for Nahli with the same dagger that had brought her to this wretched place.
Anton now stood with his siblings, Tasha holding onto the hen Nahli had stolen from Daryna. “You think giving a chicken that you stole from someone else makes up for anything you’ve done?” He lazily walked toward her and spat, “You are nothing but a filthy thief, a lowly life not worth living. And that’s why you’re dead. Dead—dead—dead!”
Villagers with faces she recognized, and others she couldn’t see clearly, came one by one to her.
“I could have used the money to purchase medicine for my sick child.”
“The engagement ring was for my love.”
“My family didn’t have food on the table that night.”
On repeat, images and accusations played in her head. Nahli wanted to yell at them all to stop, and shut her eyes to avoid seeing those things anymore. She yearned more than anything to go back in time, to before Anton had built her, when she remembered nothing—was nothing.
