Sword and Verse by Kathy MacMillan Page A

and clasped both my hands. “And I promise, Raisa—no more raids on the Nath Tarin, ever. No more children will have to go through what you did.”
    I couldn’t speak. I held him tightly, ignoring the pain as the stone around my neck dug into my breastbone.

Occasionally the gods turned their attention to the valley below. They saw how the mortals, weak and small, learned which of the plants and animals could be eaten without causing sickness, how they formed groups to protect one another. Mortal as well as godly deeds began to appear in the scrolls of the great library.
FOURTEEN
    MATI AND I didn’t speak again about my past, or the promise he’d made to do what he could for the Arnathim, but the knowledge hung between us, binding us even more closely together. We stole away to the Library whenever we could; I couldn’t have stayed away from him if I’d tried. He showed me another passage into the Library from behind a hidden door in a kitchen storeroom, so that I could sneak away from the Adytum and meet him there. No matter that it was dangerous—when I was in Mati’s arms I didn’t care if the entire King’s Guard came crashing through the doors.
    The sunny days of Lilana returned, bringing the Festival of Aqil again. The Trade Minister, Priasi Jin, raised eyebrows at court by bragging as much about his granddaughter playing Sotia as he did about the girl’s older brother playing Aqil. Minister Jin didn’t seem to care that she was a girl or that she was playing the displaced goddess. The pride in his voice when he spoke of her always made me smile.
    The day after the pantomime, Mati met me in the Library at fourth bell, bearing a large honeycake. He swept me into his arms, declaring, “Today is the anniversary of our first kiss.”
    â€œI thought that was yesterday.”
    â€œThe Festival of Aqil was when I realized I was in love with you. I didn’t do something about it until after eighth bell.” He broke off a piece of cake and fed it to me. “This whole cake is for you,” he said. “Linti got her own.”
    I kissed him. Though I had been seeing the packets of food he’d left under the stairs for the past year, this was the first time Mati had mentioned them.
    I couldn’t imagine ever loving him more.
    We clung to each other that afternoon; Mati was leaving for a seven-day hunting trip with his father the next morning, and I knew that my days in the Adytum would be dull without him. At least I had my heart-verse to work on; as Mati had consumed more and more of my thoughts, I had spent less time on it than I should have, though I had now learned most of the higher order symbols.
    When it was time to go, we scoured the carpet on hands and knees to pick up every crumb of cake—I was much better at this than Mati was—and shared one last kiss before I crept out through the kitchen storeroom and Mati left through the king’s suite. I hurried toward the Adytum. I’d have to finish at least three pages before Laiyonea returned from the council meeting the king had asked her to attend, or she’d suspect something.
    I was passing one of the smaller council rooms near the kitchens when a familiar screech cut the air. “This should have been done an hour ago!”
    I hadn’t heard it in over two years, but Emilana Kret’s furious shout automatically made me scramble for a hiding place. I could guess the reason for the head servant’s displeasure; that room’s friezes were exceptionally detailed and held more than the usual amount of dust. Emilana had liked to press a white cloth into the tiniest crevices when we’d finished cleaning it; even a speck of dirt on the cloth meant no dinner for us. I’d lost more meals due to that chamber than the rest of the palace combined.
    The corridor was still deserted. I crept closer to the door and peered in.
    Emilana was shaking a white cloth covered