Free The Ruby Prince: Book Two of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 2) by Beth Brower Page B

ever seen.
    Basaal closed his eyes, not watching Eleanor until she had secured it on his right wrist below the silver band.
    “ I promise you this ,” Basaal said slowly, “ that the same stars grace every land .” Eleanor watched him speak these words, their significance evident.
    “My mother,” was all he said.
    Eleanor looked again at the bracelet, thinking of the words Basaal had spoken, wondering what Edith would have thought of her son. Eleanor wanted to ask what the oath meant, but, instead, she picked up the final Safeeraah: a brass band, stamped, painted with rich colors. The prince pointed to a place high on his right forearm. Eleanor performed the ritual and secured it in place.
    The prince closed his eyes and brought his arm before his face. “ What has been given man save the Illuminating God declared it so? Obedience to his word, therefore, and honor .”
    Eleanor had no more Safeeraah, but Basaal kept his right arm before his face and touched the knotted black piece of leather he had worn while in Aemogen. “ Though I wander, I am the deep well; I seek transcendence by honor, as the seven stars.”
    When he finished, Basaal kept his head bent in reverence, breathing slowly in and out. Feeling the need to close the ceremony, to seal it somehow, Eleanor reached her hand to his cheek and lifted his face towards hers.
    She moved to speak but couldn’t think of the words to say.
    He covered her hand with his own, his fingertips pressing into her palm. “Thank you, Eleanor. I—” he began, but he paused and studied the bands on his left arm. “Thank you.”
    When Basaal looked up at Eleanor’s face, he was fighting back a sad smile, as if seeking refuge, as if asking for strength. Eleanor moved her thumb slightly across his cheek.
    “We are friends, are we not?” Basaal asked, weight behind these familiar words.
    “Are we?” she said, in turn.
    “Are we?” he asked, and his inquiry seemed earnest.
    Eleanor’s lips turned upward ever so slightly, and she nodded her head. “Yes. Despite it all.”

Chapter Five
     
    Their journey to the North continued, more arduous than before, stopping late in the evenings and beginning again each morning before the sun rose in the sky. Three days out from Alliet, they came to the edge of the Aronee desert and its waves of purple and black sand. For Eleanor, it was a sight of wonder, very much like the southern sea before a wild storm. She wanted to tell this to Basaal, but he was back at the head of the company, distant, occupied.
    The wind in the Aronee was steady, lifting the purple grains off their dunes and flinging them about in unexpected patterns. Eleanor could feel the sand form a light layer covering her skin below the white robes and headscarves the Alliet maidservant had procured for her. No imaginary landscape could have been more fantastic and surreal than this dry, raging sea.
    “You appear as the moon,” Annan told her at dusk one week into the journey. “We fade into the darkness with our black, but your white robes shine against the coming night.”
    “I am Seraagh, the messenger angel, remember? Cast into the sky during the life of the world for leaving my post,” Eleanor replied, shifting uncomfortably in her saddle.
    To her surprise, Annan laughed. “Perhaps.”
    Then Hegleh tossed her head, sending a spray of purple sand at her face, stinging Eleanor’s eyes. Eleanor and Hegleh were both taxed. Water was doled out in careful measures, but not stringently so, and the food was simple: dried fruits and meats and bread.
    At night, the tents were set up, and, if the wind was calm, the men would sit around the fire for hours. Eleanor could hear their steady voices shifting conversation back and forth between them. Guards walked the perimeter the night long, their scimitars drawn. Basaal too was kept up late outside the tent. There was still no conversation between them, but Eleanor was aware that he needed to know she was there, and,