Page 8 of Joy Guardian
“I suppose a smile can convey many things. Maybe if shadow fae smiled, you would be able to read its other meanings too? Like, we can read body language. For example, I can tell by the way you’re leaning away from me or by how straight your back is that you aren’t nearly as comfortable in my company as I am in yours.”
“I don’t mind your company,” he protested stiffly.
I shook my head with a knowing smile. “Look how firmly your feet are planted into the ground, like you’re ready to jump up and flee already.” I waved a hand casually. “You can leave. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended. You’ve been brave and enduring enough, lasting here for as long as you have while listening to a sad woman’s musings.”
I hadn’t really told him anything about my past yet, but I had a feeling I would if he stayed longer. I didn’t lie when I said I felt comfortable with him. It was probably because he was a stranger and didn’t really care about me or my past. Kurai listened with that kind of detached attention that made it easy for me to open up to him, like I could say anything I needed to say because he would eventually forget it all anyway.
“It’s not that…” He slid his gaze down my face, focusing on my bruise, then on my split lip that started to throb again under his attention.
His chest expanded with a breath, as if he was going to saymore. Then he glanced away, spotted my empty dinner plate, and grabbed it like a lifesaver.
“I’ll take back the plate.” He jumped to his feet.
I watched his tall, graceful figure stride away swiftly. He was clearly fleeing me and likely for good. But he’d lasted longer than he should’ve and escaped at the right time just before I would’ve plunged us deeper into the mucky story of my broken heart and my even more broken life.
Three
KURAI
Istayed away from thesaraifor three nights, hiding in one of the palace’s many opulent guest rooms that was given to me by the Royal Council for the duration of my visit. I would’ve stayed away even longer if I didn’t need the access to thesaraito complete my mission.
This was my chance to become a hero, like the Master Guardian had said. And for that, I had to show up in thesarairegularly for the Keepers and the guards to get used to my presence and hopefully stop paying attention to my actions.
I couldn’t keep hiding like a coward forever. On the fourth night since my last visit, I approached the heavily guarded gates of thesaraionce again.
Sefri rushed to me the moment I stepped into the courtyard.
“Greetings, Joy Guardian. It’s been a while since your last visit.”
“Has it, really?” I feigned ignorance.
“It’d be the fourth night of your absence, I was beginning to fear you may be neglecting us,” she cooed innocently while ruthlessly dragging me down the rocky path of a guilt trip.
“I’ve been busy…um, with spells,” I cleared my throat, coughing up a lie, “with mastering some spells, that is.”
“Of course. The magic of Joy Guardians is legendary. I imagine it requires constant and diligent practice. We all here are very hopeful that you will create a miracle for our empty Vessel and fill her with joy.”
“Is she still…empty?” I asked with a touch of very inconvenient concern as the memory of the sad golden-brown eyes floated in my mind’s vision.
“We’ve had very little progress with Ciana,” Sefri shook her head, looking crestfallen.
Ciana.
I did not ask for her name. But now I knew it anyway.
Sefri was an ambitious woman, driven to succeed in her task as the Joy Vessel Keeper. She believed that my goal was to help her with that, in which she was mistaken. Helping humans to assimilate was the excuse invented by the Master Guardian to get me free access to thesarai.
Grabbing her by the arm, I led her aside, away from the gate and the queen’s guards.
“I request a different task,” I said frankly. “I prefer to work with someone else.”
Sefri frowned with worry. “Did you find Joy Vessel Ciana too difficult? Does she have no hope?”
Difficultdidn’t even begin to encompass the entire complexity of my feelings toward that woman. I didn’t want to know her name, hoping that thinking about her simply as “that woman” would help me distance myself from her emotionally. But I’d spent three days tossing and turning in my excessively luxurious bed, trying to chase the visions of her flitting smiles out of my head. They were like night moths—delicate and fragile but inescapable.
“Um…on the contrary. I believe she’s well on the mend, so I can move on to someone else,” I lied again.
Sefri tilted her head, studying me closely.
