Keir (37 page)

“Do you have them all over?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “My father decided it should be done.”

“How many sea wraiths did you kill?”

“None.”

“Don’t pester him,” S’rano scolded them. “His customs are not ours.”

“It is all right,” Keir said. “I do not mind.” And felt surprised that it was true.

When one inquisitive child touched his back, he did not flinch, though it resulted in some of them poking him when he was not quick enough to give them his attention. One of the crew asked permission to copy the designs and a sketch pad appeared as if by magic when he assented. After an hour, S’rano told them to scatter and even the artist copying Keir’s back regretfully wandered away.

The soft fabric shushed as it slid back over Keir’s torso.

“The children will not forget that,” the captain told him. “I think there will be many requests for M’linka’s sketches when they come of age for their initiation.”

“Do they choose their own? There are no traditional ones?”

“Oh, there are many designs used by custom but all may make their own choices and the elders permit it. To come from another world and escape a sea wraith, your designs earn their own place of honor.” There was a hint of respect in the captain’s voice and Keir wondered what he had done to deserve it. “We should go back to L’enko’s now. Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Then come.”

S’rano escorted him back to L’enko’s and then departed, explaining that he intended to prepare for the evening. L’enko, too, was busy, and left Keir to eat in peace after apologizing for such bad manners in abandoning his guest but Keir was thankful to be alone at last. When they had gone, he sat on the veranda at the front of the house, watching the villagers at work. Some called a greeting to him as they passed and T’leko came to sit at his feet and steal pieces of fruit from the table when he thought no one was looking.

T’leko leaped up suddenly, a large piece of fruit crammed in his mouth. Keir rose as Quin joined them, his heart racing a little faster at the sight of her.

The women had braided her hair into dozens of tiny plaits along her head and down the back, ending in bright turquoise beads. She wore a turquoise and black sarong wrapped around her hips, another tied in a complicated fashion around her chest, leaving her white arms and midriff bare. Her face had been made up in metallic blues and greens, with a pattern of tiny dots across her cheeks to mimic the scales of the Metraxians. A necklace of little shells lay around her neck, with a single elongated shell hung from the center. T’leko stared, mesmerized, until Keir gave him a nudge and he scampered away. Bewitched, Keir took Quin’s hand and drew her toward him.

She smiled as she placed a warm hand on his chest and traced a pattern. “S’rano says you had quite an audience today,” she murmured.

“They wanted to see my tattoos. They are a status symbol here.”

Quin followed the runic letters along his collarbone with gentle fingers. “I thought you hated them.”

“I did. I suppose I am learning to accept that they are as much a part of me as anything else.” He spread his fingers. “If you can accept me as I am, how can I not?”

“Not acceptance, Keir. I love you as you are.”

Keir’s chest tightened at her words. “When we get back to Lyagnius…” He closed his mouth but the unsaid words hung between them. The possibility they might not make it back. The chance that, even if they did, their relationship would be forced to change.

Quin sighed. “We don’t have to stay there. I told you that. But even if we did, the worst we’ll have to deal with is Surei’s disapproval.”

“Then, would you marry me?”

She pulled away but he held her, determined this time.

“I thought we’d already had this discussion on the boat.”

“And you refused me,” Keir acknowledged. “So I ask again. Marry me, Quin. Tonight.”

She stared at him for a moment, searching his face. A sudden fear struck him that she would say no. “Is that really what you want, Keir?”

Disappointment left a bitter taste on his tongue. “It is. But clearly you do not.”

“I’m not saying that–”

“Then what?” He released her. “Are you so concerned what your friends will think?”

“No.” She caught his fingers in her own. “But I’m three hundred years old–”

Keir pulled himself free and turned away. “So you see me as too young for you? A child?”

“No. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t know if you will be like me, whether you will age or not. Darion and I were together for more than two hundred years. I can’t promise you that.”

“But you said Darion became human. Did he age? If not, then perhaps neither will I.” Keir faced her, hopeful, only to see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She had wrapped her arms tight around herself, a sign he knew meant she had been hurt. “What is it?”

“He only had human form for a short time, a few years. And then he was killed.” Her head fell forward. “I can’t promise you anything.”

He stepped close to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. With one hand he lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye. “Do you love me, Quin?”

A sad smile touched her face. “I do.”

“Then I do not care if we have two years or two hundred. No one can know that for sure.” He brushed the tear that had slid down her cheek as he spoke. “Marry me, Quin.”

“You’re set on that?”

“I am.”

The familiar crooked smile lit her face, and his tension eased. “Then, yes. I will marry you.”

“Wonderful!” cried someone behind them, making them start. L’enko stood in the doorway, yellow eyes tear-filled. “Congratulations!”

Quin blushed deeply enough for both of them, her eyes downcast. “Do you have the authority to marry us, L’enko?”

“I do, Tarquin Secker, and it would be a great privilege.” L’enko clasped his hands together, and seemed almost to dance on tiptoe, quivering. “This is so exciting!”

* * * *

Keir waited in M’linka’s hut and tried to still the quiver in his hands. The saurian artist sat hunched over his sketch pad, once more tracing the patterns on Keir’s back. Metraxian tradition required a groom to come bare-chested to his bride, to show the tattoo that marked his initiation into adulthood. When S’rano had given him the vows to learn and told him of the ritual, Keir had barely hesitated. He would honor his hosts and the woman he loved by going against his own inhibition and obeying islander tradition. And it gave M’linka, itching for a second look at the plethora of designs carved into Keir’s skin, another chance to sketch. He had professed himself flattered by the Salusian’s request to be his guide through the ceremony.

Keir watched the villagers pass by, to gather on the beach in brightly colored clothing and woven headdresses, bearing food for the banquet or burning torches to light the feast. The sun sank in crimson splendor, turning the sea to fiery gold. Talk and laughter rose above the voice of the sea, the sounds of excitement and anticipation. Listening to them only heightened his nerves. He dried sweating palms on the fabric of his trousers, ran the words through his mind over and over again. He prayed he would not stumble over them.

A sudden hush fell. M’linka laid his drawing aside and rose to join Keir, whose mouth went dry as L’enko’s voice carried to him.

“My friends!” he cried. “Tonight we celebrate three great events. We welcome our wraith hunters back as men, ready to take on the responsibilities of adulthood. We welcome two honored guests, rescued by our brave hunters. And we celebrate their marriage, here in our village on this night!”

A rousing cheer and applause greeted his announcement.

“Let the ceremony begin!”

The Metraxians started clapping rhythmically, beating out a marching time. M’linka led the way out, down to the gathering, and brought Keir before the chief who sat on a throne of bamboo. Keir waited as S’rano came likewise, Quin walking behind him. She had her eyes downcast, a beautiful rose blush to her cheeks, still dressed in the flowing sarongs and with her hair braided. His body pulsed with heat as she raised her eyes to meet his, and then lowered her gaze to his bare chest. He heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her smile brighten as she understood his tribute to her.

“For you, my love.”
He offered it as a gift.

Tears glimmered in her eyes and he loved her all the more for it. She knew what it signified and the fact that it mattered to her meant the world to him. She meant the world to him.

“You are my everything.”
Her thoughts twined within his, and her love washed over him.

L’enko joined Quin’s left hand to Keir’s right, holding them together in both hands. The fact that Quin’s hand trembled as much as his own settled his nerves and he squeezed a reassurance.

L’enko called for silence and turned to Keir. “What do you seek here?”

The words he had feared to forget came easily now, because they came from his true desire. “I seek to bind my life to Tarquin Secker, the woman I love with all my heart and soul,” he replied, his voice as steady as the love he felt for her.

L’enko turned to Quin with the same question, and she answered calm and clear, as if she had waited all her life with those words on her lips. “I seek to bind my life to Keirlan de Corizi, the man I love with all my heart and soul.”

“The joining of your hands represents your wish to join your lives together as one.” Once more, L’enko addressed Keir. “Speak your vows.”

“I promise to share all my life with you, in love and laughter, through tears and trials. To work by your side and dream in your arms. To fill your heart and feed your soul. To always see the best in you, and to love you always until the end of our forever.” As he spoke the words, he touched her mind, offered himself body and soul along with his vows, completely.

L’enko prompted Quin to speak, and for a moment her voice failed and she could only stare at him in silence. Panic flared briefly in Keir’s mind. That single mote of tension, of quiet, seemed to last forever. Then Quin spoke, and a sigh passed through the gathering as she mirrored Keir’s vows. Relief washed through him as each word brought them closer to unity.

With their promises given, L’enko wrapped a cord around their joined hands. “With your pledges given and with your hearts and minds as one, as your bodies will be one in union, I bind you now until the end of your forever.”

A loud cheer arose as Keir and Quin kissed each other shyly. The chief unbound their hands and bade them sit together as he proceeded with the rest of the ceremonies.

* * * *

Darkness had truly fallen before the crew of S’rano’s vessel returned, some wincing with newly bandaged torsos but all walking proud. With their triumphant return, the celebration increased tenfold, the village girls pairing up with the eligible young males. A village custom, S’rano had confided with a knowing grin.

The dancing became wilder, and with a nod of agreement from Keir, Quin took his hand and dragged him away to disappear into the trees beyond the village. They ran breathlessly into the darkness before collapsing in laughter in a small clearing.

Keir pulled her toward him and kissed her lightly. “I thought you might have changed your mind when you could not speak your pledge.”

She curled her hands around the back of his neck, threading her fingers through the curls gathered at the nape of his neck. “No. I’m not the kind of girl to dump my intended at the altar.” She kissed him again, quickly, no more than a brush of her lips against his. “But the way you said your vows, with such sincerity…” She sighed. “You made me feel breathless.”

“Quin…” His mouth sought hers, demanding, and she melted into his kiss, her body molding against his. Want coiled around him and he pushed her back, pushed her down so their bodies pressed together and her mind flowed into his.

“My love…”
Her desire overlaid his, every thread of her pleasure at his touch echoed and reflected back, augmented.

“My heart and soul…”

They lost themselves in each other, reaching for ecstasy. Each kiss, each touch carried them to another level, a rising tide of pleasure. And, after a while, as joy poured through their veins and euphoria washed over them, that perfect moment of union came and carried them away as one.

1.       
   Chapter 15
   

Keir lay awake some time later, staring up into the darkness in silent contemplation. Quin’s passion had been almost frenzied, alarming him with its intensity and desperation. It had seemed as if she sought to bind his soul to hers, a semblance of his self that could not be taken from her no matter what. Afterward, as her heart raced in time with his and with the touch of her hands still burning him, he had asked her why. His only answer had been her tears soaking his skin. He had stroked her hair until the tears were spent and she eventually fell asleep, her arm across his waist and both of them draped in her filmy sarong. Did she truly believe this was their last night together?

Her dark mood had infected him at last, and he held her tight, memorizing the way she felt in his arms, the scent of her hair and the sound of her breathing in sleep. His hands rested on her back, his fingers straying again and again to her scars, touching them with a shiver of something that felt like premonition.