"You never did tell me why you wanted my ring so badly."
Asiah gripped the edge of the stone bench underneath her, staring straight ahead for she could not bring herself to look him in the eye. All this time, they had been picking up the mood after she had told him of the gods' disappearance and Eremiel's possible death. They had talked of other, happier things. He told her stories of the gods, and she told him stories of her sisters and her mother. Never her father, though, for there seemed to be no room in their conversation for unpleasantness.
The sudden question took her by surprise. She swallowed hard.
"I did tell you, did I not? I wished to use your ring to save myself and my loved ones."
"You did say that, but I wonder what you wished to save yourself and your loved ones from. I don't mean to pry, though. If it's difficult to speak of, you don't have to tell me. I was only curious."
She grappled with the possibilities for a moment. Should she tell him or should she not? Was this a conversation she wanted to have with a man who had been released from stone just a few hours ago?
She sighed finally, throwing her hands in the air. "Gods, I might as well tell you. There's no need to keep secrets, I'll be in the dungeons when the Head's Eyes returns anyway. I'm sure you know of house Blondell. My ancestors were the first of the nobles in Eldyngrove and my ancestress was one of the First Men created by Magdellana." When Kavaris nodded his assent, she continued, "Our house has an old history, and with old history comes old money. When my father was given the position as head of the Blondell family after his older brother died, my grandparents did all they could to ensure his success. They married him to my mother, the daughter of a great, prestigious household, they gave him access to all the best tutors and moved strings behind the scenes to ensure he would properly be respected as the head of Blondell.
"But my father is an idiot. The Blondell family was known for their riches, riches accumulated since the dawn of time. That fool plundered them all on prostitutes, alcohol, gambling, every act unbefitting a nobleman you can think of." She sighed. "His ways destroyed my mother. They took her to an early grave. She was thirty-six when she fell ill and by then, father had run through all of our funds and couldn't afford to hire priestesses to heal her. She died the next year.
"The Blondell family--my father, to be more exact--is in extreme debt. We had to cut our staff off four years ago and now we're on the verge of losing our estate. Then, my father realized I was of age. And what do all parents with insurmountable debt do with their daughters of age?"
"Marry them off," Kavaris answered, though she hadn't expected him to.
She snorted. "Yes. He plans to wed me to Duke Everett in Wintershade. He didn't even bother to find me an appropriate suitor. I expected that someday my father might choose a husband for me. Such is the way of life as the child of a noble household. But Duke Everett is twenty years my senior and lecherous. The tales of his debauchery buzz on the lips of commoners from here to Harrendyl. And not only is he lecherous, he's a usurper. He stole the seat of the duke from his young nephew. To think he would sell me, the eldest daughter of Blondell to such a man." She huffed.
Kavaris was silent as she stewed in her emotions, anger boiling in her all over again.
"So, that was why you decided to steal my ring. You wanted the money to leave."
"Among other things. I wished to save myself, but I did it for my sisters, too. They're young now, but the moment they're of age, that man will try to sell them off just like he's doing with me. It won't matter what the man is like or how old he is, and it won't matter what they want. He'll do anything for money. I couldn't leave my sisters in such a position. I..." she tried to breathe past the sudden lump in her throat. "I promised Mother I would take care of them properly. That I would ensure their happiness."
Her eyes were spilling over with tears and they fell onto the skirt of her dress. Her hair luckily fell around her face, shielding her from his view. She stared down at her hands clutching at her skirts, trying to regain control of her emotions.
She could see her mother so clearly. She had been hanging on by a thread, then, and she knew she had no time left. Despite the cold, she sat in her favorite chair by the open window, watching the flurries of snow for what would be the last time, a thick blanket draped around her thin shoulders.
Asiah had been there, sitting by her mother's feet with her head in her lap. She was stroking Asiah's hair the way she used to when she was a child, humming to herself. And then she had suddenly said, "You must care for your sisters when I'm gone, Asiah. I'm sorry to leave you with such a burden, but there is no one else I can ask. This is a responsibility I should be asking of my husband, but I cannot. I can only ask it of you. This is my greatest failure as your mother, Asiah. I'm sorry."
Her mother had run to the Goddess's embrace not even a week later.
"I just want for them to live the life I couldn't," she continued after she had pulled herself together a little. "But now, look." She gestured about the gazebo they were sitting in and the garden surrounding it. "I'm in the Citadel, awaiting the Head's Eyes to assess my soul just for her to tell me I'm not Ariadne and throw me in the dungeons. And my sisters..." The knot returned, making speaking difficult.
A thought occurred to her suddenly and she acted before she could fully think, reaching over to grip Kavaris's arm. It was startlingly hot under her hands.
"Will you do me a favor?"
He nodded. "Anything."
"When they discover I'm not Ariadne, will you take care of my sisters?" The words spilled out of her mouth quickly. "The Head will surely return your noble status and riches. If you truly hold no grudge against me for my wrongs, care for my sisters."
He watched her for a long while as, all around them, crickets chirped. "What if they discover you do hold Ariadne's soul within you?"
So caught up in her vision of Kavaris saving her sisters, it took her a moment to process what he had just said. When she did, she stared up at him, uncomprehending.
"What?"
He didn't repeat himself, he just stared at her with those unnaturally bright, sun-like orbs while she grappled for a response.
"Do you...plan to...cast some kind of magic?" She didn't recall any stories saying Kavaris could use magic, but fiction and reality were often very different.
"I don't need to."
"You don't need to," she repeated. Her hand was still gripping his arm--the warmth from him bled through the thin fabric of the shirt he wore--and even as she drew it back, she could still feel that warmth.
He looked at her for a moment more. She didn't know why he looked at her for so long or if he ever found what he was looking for, but he sighed suddenly and muttered something under his breath.
"Let's return to your room for now," he said, standing. "There will be more chances for us to talk again." He stretched out his hand for her to take.
She took his hand automatically, even as she was confused all the while.
***
Back in her borrowed room, Asiah sat on the edge of her bed. The moons had moved across the sky and no longer shone through her window, so the room was plunged in shadow. She could barely see her hand in front of her face, it was so dark.
But she wasn't worried about that. She was thinking about her talk with Kavaris.
"What if I hold Ariadne's soul within me?" she recanted what he had said to her aloud. "Ridiculous. Impossible. I-I'm not..."
There was no way she was Ariadne's reincarnation. Kavaris had been awakened--not because she had touched him and broken the spell like the stories all said--but because she had taken his ring. The ring had been the trigger, not her.
And yet still, she recalled her fingers brushing against Kavaris when he was still trapped in the stone. She recalled the stone shattering and breaking, falling away. How those blazing orbs had stared straight at her and called for Ariadne. There was not a single trace of doubt in his eyes; there was no confusion. He held the gaze of a lucid man.
She sucked in a breath. "I'm not Ariadne," she said out into the dark.
The dark responded with a knowing silence, but what it knew, it didn't share.