A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)

Chapter Fifty-Nine

We continue our ascent towards the old gods' temple. Harto had been surprised when I told him we wished to visit them, to pay tribute to strange gods from lands in which we were the strangers. But I'd taken Kaliya's advice. She'd hinted that the old Jiwanese gods would know the answer to who was Rangda's greatest enemy. The answer of the name of the witch doctor.

The climb seemed easier after Zahra had given me permission to unleash my burden, to stop feeling as though the weight of my people rested on my shoulders alone. I turn my face up towards the sun, wondering what Jiwanese god ruled even that.

Then my thoughts turned to Harto, his problematic relationship with the gods.

***

"You wish to visit them?" He scoffs, running his fingers through his long swathe of dark hair. His dark eyes gleam, nervously touching his handprint scar, tracing it with his fingertips. "I don't know why you would. The old gods don't preach peace. They're much like yours. Quarrelsome."

"Your grandmother respects them. Isn't that enough?"

He grits his teeth, bitterly spits out, "but they marked me with this handprint. They forced me into selling my soul before I'd even known what it was."

I reach forwards, hugging him to me. He stiffens, surprised by the gesture. "I just want to find the name, same as you. No matter what measures."

He leans in, and I imagine he runs his hand over the air surrounding me, anxious to hold me closer. Knowing that I'd refuse his advances. "I wish..." He lets the thought linger in the air, his anger dissipating as I continue to embrace him. In the garden, head spinning with the scent of the flowers, "I wish this was our normal." He amends. "We don't embrace often, not unless it's family members. To hold someone..." He breaks away. "As boys, they tell us that being held is weak. To be cradled is to be coddled, like a child. Not a ruler. Not a king."

I smile at him, overwhelmed by the garden, something in the air. "Maybe it's time somebody protected you too, Harto."

He sighs, staring longingly at my face, then turning away as though he'd only been admiring another flower in his garden. "I'll tell you where the temple is."

***

Now at the temple, I wonder what urged me to hug him.

I guess that I'd figured he needed a bodyguard too. I grin at Zahra, my rock, my center. Harto didn't have that, a calming presence.

I suppose it's the whole Protector of Humankind title that Kane, the Rahasian god of life, had bestowed upon me as a baby. I always felt that I had to protect others, no matter the consequences.

Perhaps Harto thought it meant something else, but I didn't care.

It was only a memory, after all.

***

Readers,

You're welcome to Harto shippers.

-Sophia