The Gantean (Tales of Blood & Light Book 1) by Emily June Street Page B

Tomorrow we’ll plan better and dally for longer—yes? There’s so much more I’d like to know.”
    I nodded, swayed against my better judgment. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
    Costas ushered me out the door. “I’ll send you another message to tell you where and when,” he whispered, catching my face in his hands and forcing my gaze to meet his. “Make sure you open it in private.”
    The same servant who had brought me to the garden emerged from the hallway’s shadows. “Can you find your own way back to your room?” he asked. His face remained expressionless, but even so, I sensed a trace of disapproval wafting from him.
    “Yes, I can,” I lied. “You needn’t accompany me.”

Six
    “ I can’t believe you couldn’t find my nosegay.” Ghilene pouted as I unwound her braids from the night before. “I wanted to dry it as a memento.”
    I had lied—again—and told her I could not find the bouquet, though I had never made it back to the ballroom to attempt a search. If I kept up this stream of lies, I would confuse myself. I had little facility with the Lethemian art of deceit.
    “Shall I put in new braids?” I asked.
    “Yes, do. It relaxes me and gives you something to do.”
    I selected the boar bristle brush. Hers was finer than Gantean hair, which tended towards a coarseness that prevented tangles and made braiding easy work. Ghilene’s hair was more like mine, silky and soft but prone to snarls. I worked carefully, knowing she would reprimand me if I pulled.
    “Do you think he likes me?”
    “Who?” I had been immersed in the braiding, which put me in a trance-like state.
    “Costas Galatien, of course.” Ghilene lifted her green eyes and met my gaze in the looking glass. “I think he likes me. He picked me for his first dance, did you see?”
    Her words, spoken in a confident tone, sent a lance through my stomach. If he had affections for her, what did that mean about the secret meeting he and I had shared? What about the aetherlumo di fieri?
    “I saw,” I murmured, continuing to braid. My Gantean sisters had often spoken of Lethemian love, usually in scornful terms. What, did you fall in love like a Lethemian? we used to tease when one of us developed a tendre. We all knew how silly such a feeling was. Only the Elders decided who could mate with whom.
    I chided myself as I braided. What, have you fallen in love like a cooked fool? Of course Costas Galatien isn’t for you, not matter how he tries to convince you with fancy words and sayantaq kisses.
    “Perhaps Costas doesn’t care if his wife is a bastard,” Ghilene went on, reaching for her largest jewelry box. She rifled through the bracelets and necklaces, moving her head and making my braiding job difficult.
    “By the gods!” she screamed, shoving the box away from her and lurching from the seat so that I had to release the strands of her hair. She scrambled away from the vanity, whimpering as she jumped onto the bed.
    “What? What is it?” I cried. Had I pulled too hard? Ganteans preferred tight braids that would last, and it would not be the first time I had forgotten to keep my hands soft for her.
    “A snake!” she cried, trembling as she tucked both legs beneath her dress. “A—a snake! In my jewel box!”
    I raised my brows and leaned over the box. A tiny striped serpent, coiled into a disk no larger than Nautien’s anbuaq, nestled in the corner.
    Ghilene squeaked as I reached into the jewel box and gently cupped the creature in my palm.
    “Is it a dangerous one?” she quavered.
    I lifted the animal to examine it. We did not have snakes on Gante; no cold blooded creature could survive there. “How would I know?”
    “Look at the markings!”
    “Black with yellow stripes.” The animal roused, unwinding in a graceful flow to wrap itself around my wrist. I held very still.
    “Oh my gods! Oh my gods!” shrieked Ghilene, her eyes growing rounder and rounder. She retracted against the headboard. “Kill it! Lili, kill it!