The Whispering Grass

By Alyce Caswell

Sanyul Bello is an assassin with an impeccable record — until he goes up against the goddess of savannah, who he has always blamed for his family’s misfortune. When he fails to kill her, he expects a quick death. But Isabis, who is tired of the mortals she cares for not understanding her and what she does for them, decides to give him a taste of what it’s like to be a god instead. And she can guarantee he won’t like it.

Sanyul doesn’t expect to feel sympathy for Isabis and he definitely doesn’t expect to feel something stronger in her presence. But can they both put aside their old pain and anger long enough to let the tenuous connection between them grow into something else?

An ace romance novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alyce Caswell
• Release date: Mar 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648162681

Alyce Caswell

Alyce Caswell, when she isn't buried in a book or drinking her way through a giant pot of tea, is a keen writer of fantasy and science fiction. Her space opera family saga, The Galactic Pantheon Series, has been released digitally through various retailers.

Book preview

The Whispering Grass

by Alyce Caswell

Copyright © Alyce Caswell 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Hampton Lamoureux, TS95 Studios © 2019

ISBN: 978 0 6481626 8 1 (EPUB)

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

About the Author

Also by Alyce Caswell

CHAPTER ONE

‘Sanyul! What are you wearing?’ Malikar Bello cried. Her hands fisted around the edges of her son’s jacket and she yanked him inside before the neighbours could see him. ‘You look like you’re going to a funeral, not visiting your mama!’

‘And here I thought he looked like an assassin,’ Ablar, Sanyul’s older sister, remarked as she moved forward to greet him, a beer already extended in her hand. While her mother had paired two matching pieces of kanga to create a fashionable green dress, Ablar wore only one piece as a skirt beneath a simple cotton shirt. She had chosen a kanga with a lined pattern that brought to mind golden grasses waving in the wind.

‘Ablar, no, don’t say things like that!’ Malikar scolded. ‘Someone might hear.’

Sanyul Bello accepted the beer from his sister and took a pull. The mbege, made from his family’s own banana trees, was a balm on his sore, dusty throat, an annoyance he had been afflicted with while riding in from the cave where he’d stashed his starship. His hoverbike was an older model and he hadn’t yet found the time to fix the faulty hoverpads; they had thrown great gusts of earth — and insects — into Sanyul’s face. He’d needed to change into a clean navy suit behind a large mgunga tree before knocking on his parents’ door.

Anywhere else in the galaxy, his chosen garb would have garnered him respectful glances instead of suspicious ones. Here on Sundafar, a planet that favoured colour and comfort, he knew he stood out, like some clumsy mark. But he had no interest in impressing anyone in this town by wearing something more acceptable — even if the unusually thick lining of his suit made him sweat.

Sanyul released a grateful sigh as the climate-controlled air inside his parents’ house washed over him. There were solar panels on the roof and so the brownouts that frequently beset the town didn’t affect his family — one of the many improvements Sanyul had paid for. Though he would have liked to send water, the liquid was prohibitively expensive to ship and usually it was stolen at the spaceport in Tanza, the planet’s capital city, before it could even move one step in the town’s direction.

Sanyul had seen withered fields and the bleached skeletons of stock as he’d ridden in on his hoverbike. It seemed his parents’ neighbours were faring just as badly after five years of punishing drought. In times like these, the town’s children were either in Tanza or off-world, making money wherever they could.

Just as Sanyul did. Just as he had done for half his life, ever since he’d turned fifteen.

It had been his decision. One born from witnessing the tail end of a severe drought that had decimated his town and bankrupted many of its families.

Sanyul had spent years in the Arms Academy on Leeds, learning to become an assassin and racking up an awful debt in the process. But it had been worth it; he’d managed to pay off his tuition fees after only two jobs. Sanyul’s parents had been horrified by his chosen profession, and still were, but they never refused the coin-chips he sent them to keep their mbege business running.

‘Aren’t you glad to see me, Mama, suit or no suit?’ Sanyul asked, lowering his beer.

Malikar sighed, hands braced on her hips.

‘I only brought one lasrifle with me — and Baba said he’d lock it up,’ Sanyul assured her.

He had found his father in the equipment shed, worn out from travelling back from Tanza on foot, no doubt having gone there to see if he could purchase anything from the city’s water importers. Sanyul’s baba hadn’t been conscious enough to speak to him, so Sanyul had locked the weapon up himself. But Malikar still thought of him as a teenager, frozen in time from the moment his feet had first left Sundafarian soil. She didn’t trust the boy he had been. She trusted the lie.

‘Mama, come on, stop sulking,’ Ablar spoke up. ‘It’s been years since Sanyul was last here and there’s so much to talk about — he doesn’t even know I have a husband yet!’

‘I do now,’ Sanyul said with a laugh. ‘Maybe I’ll go stay in your house, Ablar.’

‘No! You will do no such thing!’ Malikar told him, horror widening her brown eyes. ‘Everyone saw you ride in just now! What will my neighbours say if my own son does not stay beneath my roof? And what will they say if he does not stand beside me at tomorrow’s rain meeting? It’s bad enough that Bibi never comes to these things!’

‘Don’t stress so much, Mama.’ Sanyul moved over to Malikar and wrapped her up in