Prija knocked on the floor to grab Intira’s attention. The little girl didn’t need to be thinking about what was going on between the two foreigners. It was none of their business, even though Prija had seen Niran’s eyes. He’d like the moonfaced girl to be his business.
But Prija was wary of foreigners. One of the scribes who’d tried to take her had been foreign. His accent told her he was Chinese, but from far, far away. She had no idea why they’d tried to take her. She couldn’t be useful to them. Why would they take her if she wasn’t useful?
Having a scribe in the compound put Prija’s nerves on edge. She didn’t like their hard black tattoos, which were so much uglier than the delicate Sak Yant of her brothers. Sura’s tattoos had animals and beautiful patterns. Scribe tattoos were like ugly black scribbles. Like a child would make. She didn’t trust them. Didn’t like them. She had no idea how the moonfaced girl could let one touch her with his ink-stained hands. For Prija’s whole life, scribes had been the ones trying to kill her.
Niran and Sura told her that the Irin weren’t their enemies now. That the scribes knew all Grigori weren’t the same as the bad ones. Prija didn’t have as much faith as her brothers, but she knew where to run and where to hide Intira if things became ugly. Prija could defend herself. Of that she had no doubt.
“Bun Ma says it’s ugly.” Intira sat in front of her loom.
Prija gave her a reproachful look.
“No, not ugly. She is too kind to say that. But she doesn’t like it.”
Bun Ma was a traditional girl. She didn’t like any weaving patterns that weren’t like those she’d been taught. She was an excellent weaver and a good sister, but she lacked imagination. Prija looked at the scattered pattern. They were stars. Or knives, perhaps. The pointed stars sat at angles to each other, riding the lines of red and gold Intira had woven with the cotton thread. It was an odd geometry. A pattern, no question, but not one that Prija could read.
“Do you see it?” Intira asked, her face glowing with excitement. “Bun Ma doesn’t see it.”
Prija doubted that anyone other than Intira saw meaning in the pattern. There was something… She frowned. It did remind her of something. There was a low humming in her mind, a vibration that tickled the base of her skull, but it teased her only a moment before it shot like needles to her temples.
She closed her eyes and put her hands over her face.
“Prija?”
She didn’t like to worry her little sister, but she could barely stand the pain. It felt like claws ripping into her mind.
Kanok, where are you?
He’d been the only one who could heal her when the voices became too much. He’d been the only one whose touch pulled her back to sanity.
But Kanok was gone.
Small hands shoved a long wooden bow into her hand.
“Play,” Intira said. “It will make you feel better if you can. Play something, Prija.”
Prija kept her eyes closed, but she held the delicate neck of the saw sam sai on instinct. She put the bow to the strings and pulled a tentative note. It was scratching and flat. She pulled again.
“Keep going,” Intira said.
She kept playing until the worst of the pain had passed. The music pulled it from her like string tugged from a deep pocket. The pain unfurled in the air and drifted out the window, escaping into the night sky.
Chapter Ten
Leo’s elation lasted until dinner that night. As soon as they walked into the garden holding hands, he saw it. He noticed the glances between Sura and Niran. Saw Ginny’s unveiled curiosity and Alyah’s blank expression.
“They will not like it,” Kyra said. “Neither my people nor yours. Kareshta who decide to go with Irin men…”
“What?”
“People make assumptions.” She kept her voice low. “That the kareshta are after something. That the Irin men are taking advantage.”
“That has nothing to do with us,” he said.
Kyra shrugged, but he could see her turning inward. “People will think what they think.”
“Exactly.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her full on the lips. “People will think what they want. And we will ignore them.”
She offered him a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He saw the trepidation, and it made him want to rage. He decided that, for the night, he would ignore the pointed looks and unspoken curiosity of the people around them. But if it persisted past natural curiosity, he’d be breaking a few heads. Irin or Grigori, he didn’t much care. Their stares had turned Kyra’s earlier happiness to caution.
Damn them.
They sat next to each other at the low table where they had taken lunch earlier in the day.
Niran was the first to speak. “We didn’t see you this afternoon, Kyra.”
“No.” She folded her hands on her lap. “I took the afternoon off to spend time with Leo.”
Leo couldn’t have been more proud of her if she’d stood on the table and shouted that she was his. Her voice never rose, but it never wavered either. He saw Sura smile in his direction and suspected they had at least one ally at the table.
“So!” Ginny was smiling. “How is this going to work?” She waved a finger between them. “I’m going to be nosy. I’ll just warn you in advance.”
Leo raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t your parents have that conversation with you, Ginny?” Kyra squeaked beside him. Actually squeaked. “I’m sorry,” Leo pretended he hadn’t heard Kyra. “Maybe after dinner, Alyah and I can find a website for you. I’m pretty sure there are a few that might explain things, probably in more detail than you want.”
Ginny laughed, but Alyah broke in with a serious voice. “You’re different. It’s not very sensible to ignore it. Your magic is different. Your lives—”
“Our lives are our business,” Leo said. “But thank you for your concern, sister. I’m sure it comes from a sincere place.”
Alyah lifted her hands and looked away, clearly not sharing Leo’s opinion but unwilling to offer offense.
Kyra was a silent statue beside him. He took her hand and put it in his lap, playing with her fingers as the monks poured tea for the table and Niran and Sura’s brothers served the food. There was fragrant rice and delicate curry. A whole fish coated in a thick layer of salt sat on a platter. Noodles with fresh vegetables were passed around the table, but the tension remained.
“Niran,” Leo began. “I’d like—”
“I am not her brother.” Niran stopped Leo before he could finish. “It is not my place to grant permission for you and Kyra to form any kind of attachment.”
“Permission?” Kyra said quietly.
Leo didn’t say a word.
“We are not seeking permission from anyone.” She looked at Leo. “We’re not seeking permission.”
“I wasn’t going to ask for it.” Leo didn’t smile, but he wanted to. His little warrior was angry.
“Good.” Kyra turned to Niran. “Leo and I met over three years ago. While we may come from different places, our experiences have bonded us. I do not expect anyone to question the decisions we make for ourselves.”
A muscle jumped in Niran’s jaw and he looked away. Disapproval had nothing to do with Niran’s attitude. He admired Kyra as well. He wanted her.
Too bad.
Kyra had chosen him.
“Am I still welcome as your guest?” Kyra asked. “Or should I find other accommodations while I am here?”
Niran’s expression said he was not expecting the question.
Part of Leo wanted them to kick her out. He was imagining the large bed at his hotel in Chiang Mai, which would offer far more comfort than Kyra’s simple cottage at the monastery.
It was a small part of him; he tried to ignore it.
“Of course you are our guest,” Sura said into Niran’s silence. “Nothing will change your welcome here when you have done so much for our sisters.” Sura’s eyes were pointed at Niran. “No matt
er what our personal feelings may be, your generosity is a debt we can never repay.” He turned back to Leo and Kyra. “And I believe it is a beautiful thing when two souls meet and find connection. No matter where they come from.”
Leo said, “Thank you, Sura.”
“You are welcome.” Sura raised his hands. “And now we eat.”
Everyone dug into the food, even mischievous Intira, who joined them halfway through the meal. She sat next to Kyra, watching Kyra and Leo intently.
“I have heard from the Bangkok house,” Alyah said later when the food had been taken away and fruit was laid on the table.
Intira was shooed off to play in the forest with two of the monks to guard her so the grown-ups could talk.
“They have questioned the brothers there extensively,” Alyah continued, “and can find none who were in the area at the time of Prija’s attempted abduction. So we may be dealing with travelers who misunderstood the situation.”
Sura frowned. “Ginny, do you know of any scribes in Chiang Mai that the watcher in Bangkok might not know about?”
“Lots,” Ginny said. “There are so many training gyms there. It’s very popular, especially for younger scribes from America or Canada who were never placed in a proper academy. There is only one in the United States, for instance. It’s on the East Coast, and it’s very costly.”
“You have to pay for the scribe academy there?” Leo asked.
“Yes.”
He’d never heard of that before. “So scribes wanting further training in martial arts come all the way here?”
“Sometimes.” Ginny shrugged. “It’s not just the money. In the States, they’d be different. Odd. Their tattoos would be noticeable and asked about. Here, they’re different and odd, but humans will usually dismiss it as foreign mannerisms and most people wouldn’t ask about tattoos. Also, Thai people tend to be more conservative about casual touch.” She pointedly looked at Kyra’s hand where Leo was playing with it. “So scribes can avoid contact more easily.”
“Our culture is more suited to Irin customs than American culture,” Alyah said.
Ginny said, “You’re just saying that because you hate it when I hug you.”
Alyah allowed a small smile.
“Interesting,” Leo said. “So regarding Prija, it could easily have been foreign scribes traveling through who didn’t know or understand that Prija wasn’t being exploited. That she was safe here. They must have known she had angelic blood, and they might have thought they were doing the right thing in trying to take her.”
“Possibly.”
Leo could tell from Sura and Niran’s faces they were skeptical. Perhaps Leo was being too forgiving, but he could understand how the mix-up could happen. There wasn’t enough guidance from the Elder Council on such things. The rules of this new world weren’t clear.
“Either way,” Alyah said. “What they did was not sanctioned by the Bangkok scribe house. I have explained the situation here, what you have been doing in Chiang Mai to secure the city, and our watcher is interested in further conversations to coordinate our activities.”
Niran nodded. “Thank you. I’ll talk to Sura privately and let you know what we decide is the best course for our family.”
“Of course.” Alyah nodded but didn’t press for more.
Leo suspected the free Grigori of Chiang Mai and the Irin in Bangkok would be able to form an alliance to benefit them both. While Niran wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, Alyah was more than diplomatic, and Sura’s personality tended toward cooperation. The fact that the emissary from the scribe house was female instead of male probably helped, given past tensions between Grigori and scribes. Either way, it appeared that Leo’s mission to Thailand was nearing completion.
But how long did Kyra expect to remain? And how would Leo build her trust in him when he was thousands of miles away?
Leo, Alyah, and Ginny departed the temple that night with an invitation to return the next afternoon. They spent a quiet morning in Chiang Mai, drinking coffee by the river and talking about everything they’d learned, while Ginny gently teased him about Kyra and Alyah tried to change the subject. By the time they arrived back at the temple, Leo was jumping through his skin, he was so eager to see Kyra.
To his disappointment, she was teaching her meditation classes with the other kareshta. Alyah and Ginny went to find the class while Leo tamped down his impatience and accepted Niran’s invitation to watch Sura perform a Sak Yant tattoo for one of his brothers.
Despite Niran’s subtle antagonism, the process was utterly fascinating.
“What do you use for ink?” Leo asked Niran quietly as Sura inked the tattoo with a long bamboo stick with a metal point. The process was similar to Irin tattoos, though Leo used an ivory needle rather than a metal one.
“Normal human ink.” Niran frowned and looked at Leo’s talesm. “Why? What do you use?”
“We make our ink from ash.” Leo didn’t know if he was supposed to share the information with Grigori, but Sura had been open about their tattooing practice with him, so Leo didn’t feel right being secretive.
“Interesting.”
“I don’t know if it’s only tradition or if there is a magical element to it,” Leo said. “But our sacred fires do hold power. I was healed from a heaven-forged blade by the sacred fire.” He lifted his shirt to show Niran the scar where he’d been stabbed in Istanbul. “It still stings sometimes, but it doesn’t make me weak.” The scar itself was an ink-black jagged line that Leo had tattooed around to help the wound heal. It had been two years before he felt back to full strength after the injury.
“We don't tattoo around injuries.”
“You might try. This tattooing is powerful,” Leo said. “I can feel it.”
“Day-to-day practice is where the power comes from,” Niran said. “The tattoo is only a symbol of that.”
“Don’t discount the power of the tattoo,” Leo said. “Your natural magic lies with the written word. It’s the same magic that allows us to learn languages so quickly. Any written system speaks to us, even if it’s human in origin. The fact that this practice is so old means it holds power. The words are in Sanskrit?”
“No, Pali. Older than Sanskrit, but I believe they are related.”
“I believe you are correct.”
The origins of Sak Yant were very interesting, in Leo’s opinion. He’d spoken with Ava about the spells she’d learned from the Fallen, primarily from the trickster Vasu, and Azril, the angel of death, who was neither Fallen nor Forgiven. The spells she’d learned from both of them reminded Leo far more of Sanskrit than the Old Language of the Irin. Leo made a mental note to find a Pali scholar among the scribes in Thailand or India as soon as possible. It could be the Pali language was more closely related to the Old Language than any scribe had realized before.
“How many brothers do you have now?” Leo asked.
“Around fifty altogether,” Niran said. “But not all of them live here.”
“Your father was prolific.”
“He was a bastard. And he was prolific. I’m only counting the sons who follow our path. There are more who have fled north. They’re not allowed in our territory unless they’re willing to follow Sura’s and my rules.”
“Similar to how Kostas operates then.”
Niran nodded. “That’s what Kyra said. I think Kostas and I would agree on many things.”
Oh, I bet you would.
Leo ignored the jab at his relationship with Kyra. Niran had been a good host, and he was hardly to blame for being attracted to a woman like Kyra.
“When will Kyra be done teaching?” Leo asked.
A muscle jumped in Niran’s jaw. “She usually teaches until dinnertime.”
Leo smiled. “I’m so glad Sura invited us.”
“Yes,” Niran said. “I’m sure you are.”
But somehow, despite Leo’s best intentions, they never seemed to find a minute alone. Kyra waved at Leo from a distance as In
tira dragged her away to show her a new game before dinner. They sat beside each other during the meal, but both of them were peppered with questions on one topic or another.
As the hours passed, Leo’s frustration grew.
“Come with me for walk,” he said. “After the meal is finished. We’ll walk in the forest.”
Kyra smiled. “I would love to. But before we do that—”
“Kyra, do you have a moment?” Sura asked.
Leo squeezed her hand, then released her to talk with Sura.
Niran and Alyah remained at the table with two other free Grigori warriors, chatting about training regimens and discussing logistics for merging activities and improving communication between the houses.
Leo stood and wandered through the garden between the temple and the forest. It was clear night, and the moon was nearly full. The wind soughed through the bamboo, and Leo let his imagination run wild. He wanted to kiss Kyra in the shadows. Watch the silver moonlight touch her skin. He felt greedy with desire for her.
Ginny was sitting in the garden, smoking a thin cigarette and staring at the moon.
Leo walked out to her. “Those are bad for you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I know. Good thing I’m magic.”
“True.” He sat next to her on the bench. “Tell me your story.”
She eyed him. “Are you always so cheerful and up-front?”
“I try to be. My cousin is the secretive one. There’s only so much stealth allowed in one family, so I’m the optimist.”
Ginny smiled. “I can see that.”
“So?”
“My story?”
He nodded.
“Not very interesting.” Her eyes told him different. “I live here. I’d like to say quietly, but it doesn’t suit my personality. I didn’t feel comfortable in America. The few Irina there tend to be very…”
“Conventional?”
“Yes.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “So I came here. I keep to myself and avoid Bangkok. Chiang Mai is much more relaxed, and I can train with good fighters.”