Of Sand and Malice Made Read Online Free PDF Page B

Rümayesh, with me. But after a week of her typical petulance, she returned home to Kundhun, and I hoped that would be the end of it.”
    â€œBut it wasn’t, was it?
She
sent the boy.”
    â€œBoys. There are two of them. Twins. And she didn’t
send
them. She
summoned
them. Our mother has theblood of witches running through her veins, and Kesaea inherited much of it. Their names are Hidi and Makuo. Hidi is the angry one. He has a scar running down his cheek, a remnant of the one and only time he disobeyed his father, the trickster god, Onondu, our god of vengeance in the savannah lands.”
    By the desert’s endless sand,
twins
 . . . And born of a trickster god. It explained, perhaps, why she’d been unable to do any more than see them from the corner of her eye. They’d been toying with her all along. “But why?” Çeda asked. “What would those boys want with me?”
    Ashwandi looked at her as if she were daft. “Don’t you see? They were sent by my sister to harm
me
. They’ve been sent to find a way for me to fall from grace, and in you, they’ve found it, for if Rümayesh becomes entranced with you . . .”
    â€œShe’ll what, forget about you?”
    Ashwandi shrugged. “It is her way. There isn’t room in her life for more than one obsession.”
    â€œYou wish to be that? An obsession?”
    â€œYou don’t know what it’s like . . . It’s wondrous when she turns her gaze upon you, if you don’t fight it, that is. To be without it . . .”
    Ã‡eda’s head was swimming. “Tell Rümayesh what your sister has done! Surely she’ll see that she’s being manipulated.”
    â€œI have.” Ashwandi turned, as if worried someone was watching. “But it isn’t Rümayesh who’s being manipulated. It’s us. All of us. You, me, Kesaea, even Onondu, which surely pleases her to no end. Don’t you see, girl? Rümayesh
enjoys
this, seeing us squabble and fight.”
    â€œShe acts like a god herself.”
    Even from within the cowl, Çeda could see Ashwandi’s eyes growing intense, and when she spoke once more, her words were very, very soft. “You aren’t far from the mark, but there’s something you might do.”
    â€œOut with it, then.”
    â€œThe boys, Hidi and Makuo. I know how to bind them.”
    â€œAnd how might you do that?”
    Ashwandi reached into her robes. “I’ve already done it.” She held out a small fabric pouch for Çeda to take. “Search for them. And when you are near, use this to send them home.”
    Ã‡eda stared down at the pouch. “What is it?”
    Her only response was to take Çeda’s hand in hers—the bandaged one—and forcibly press it into Çeda’s palm.
    Staring at the bloody bandages around her left hand, Çeda had a guess as to what was inside. “Why don’t
you
do it?”
    â€œBecause they’re not here for me. They’re here for Rümayesh, and now you, and they will avoid me when theycan, for the blood of my mother runs through my veins as well.” She nodded toward the pouch. “Onondu will listen to this, and so will Hidi and Makuo.”
    Ã‡eda had heard how cruel the gods of the savannah were. They demanded much for their favors. Blood. Fingers. Limbs. Sometimes the lives of loved ones. How desperate Ashwandi must be to do such a thing simply to remain by Rümayesh’s side.
    No, Çeda realized. This was no fault of Ashwandi, nor even Kesaea, but rather the one they both longed for. How strong the lure of Rümayesh to make them both do this, for surely Kesaea had made a similar bloody sacrifice on her return to Kundhun.
    Rümayesh had cast a spell that had utterly bewitched them both, these princesses of Kundhun.
    Ã‡eda stuffed the pouch, heavy as a lodestone, into the larger leather bag