Drawn through Blood by John W Otte

Author:John W Otte [John W. Otte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John W. Otte
Published: 2023-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

38

Everys stretched, the last vestiges of sleep refusing to completely release her. As much as she hated sleeping without Narius next to her, she had to admit that she hadn’t slept so soundly in weeks. But now that the sunlight streamed across her bed, she knew she had to get up and get ready.

Once she was dressed, she emerged from her hut. Rewether and Kevtho fell into step with her, the guard commander indicating where she could find breakfast, a large pavilion with a roof made out of woven brown fibers standing on thick wooden poles. As they walked, Everys noticed the many Plissk families emerging from their own huts and heading for the same pavilion. She frowned when she heard a high-pitched whine in the distance. She glanced around until she found the source: a flock of press drones darted back and forth just outside of the Oasis.

When Rewether noticed where she was looking, he nodded grimly. “They started up just before First Watch.”

“Why are they here?” Everys asked.

Kevtho laughed. “The first queen to ever attend a Naming Day at the Plissk Sanctuary Oasis? Can’t think why that would be newsworthy.”

A fair point, but it rankled her that the press would invade Trule’s family’s special moment.

If Trule was bothered, she didn’t let on. When the maid saw Everys enter the pavilion, she hopped to her feet and waved her over. Everys made her way over to the tables where she was immediately swamped by more members of Trule’s extended family. More introductions, more faces she would struggle to remember. But at the same time, she was filled with warmth and laughter. Trule’s family was clearly excited for all of them to be there, and it was hard not to be caught up in it.

Trule led her over to a long table covered with bowls of food. Some Everys recognized: large fruits, skewers of meat, jugs of water. Others took her by surprise. There was a bowl of wriggling grubs, another that was filled with translucent wings, and still another of what appeared to be half-rotten orange berries as big as her thumb.

“It’s all right, Blessed,” Trule whispered. “No one will be offended if you don’t try the food.”

That gentle permission, though, prompted Everys to take at least a small sample of everything. She wouldn’t want to offend anyone, especially not after they had shown her such hospitality and welcome.

Everys was seated next to Trule’s great-grandfather, a wizened man with bleached scales and rheumy eyes, and yet somehow, Everys felt like he saw her clearer than anyone. He didn’t say much throughout breakfast, but she knew that this was an honor, so she treated him with the deference she would show a king or ethnarch. Much to her surprise, she found that she liked most of the food she had taken. The wings carried a hot spice that caused her eyes to water but she thoroughly enjoyed. The rotten fruit was pungent and slimy, and she only ate one of them.

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