Voice of Crow (10 page)

“That’s not the same dream at all.”

“My point is, we all have nightmares about being a parent. We dream the baby will have two heads, or no skin, or that we’ll forget to feed it.” Lycas took a long sip of meloxa. “My child will be born to two warriors. What kind of life is that? Even if it doesn’t lose us in battle, it’ll have to hear us scream at each other. At least your baby will have a quiet life. At least you and Rhia—” He gripped his mug and rapped its bottom edge against the table.

“At least we what?”

“You’ll never let each other go.”

Marek looked across the tables, past the half-conscious Kalindons picking at the meal’s remains. Elora and Tereus now sat next to Rhia, speaking to her with urgency.

Coranna sat down on the other side of Rhia and joined the discussion. He noticed that his wife’s shoulder angled away from her mentor, betraying the chill that had overtaken their relationship in the past few months.

They often argued when they thought he was out of earshot, about those who lingered on the Other Side and what to tell their surviving loved ones. As Rhia matured into her powers, the two Crow women had increasingly irreconcilable ideas about how to serve their Guardian Spirit. Marek often felt caught in the middle.

Tereus and Coranna began to speak across Rhia, descending into argument. Her eyes flicked from side to side, following the conversation, growing wary and suspicious. She caught Marek’s gaze. Awe and passion welled within him so hard it made his ribs hurt.

A slow smile spread across her face, and she stood, keeping the connection their eyes had forged.

“You’re right,” Marek said to Lycas.

“About what?”

Marek didn’t answer. He stood and moved to meet Rhia at the end of her table.

When he reached her, she slid her arms around his waist. “They want me to go back to Asermos to be under Silina’s care.”

“The Turtle woman?” He held back an I-told-you-so. “Why?”

“Between your dreams, the Raven prophecy and the fact that I haven’t gained much weight, Elora and my father think I should be cautious.” She leaned her head against his neck. “Coranna thinks I should stay and continue my training, since the voices have faded but not stopped. No one’s bothered to ask me what I want.”

Marek knew what he wanted—to take her and the baby wherever they would be safe, regardless of Rhia’s wishes. But it had to be her decision. He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. “What do you want?”

“I want to stay.”

A wave of fear washed over him. “But—”

“But I can’t just think about my own desires anymore. So we’ll leave tomorrow with my family.”

He let out a long exhale. “Good.”

She looked at Lycas, slumped over his mug, which Marek noticed was full again. “Maybe the day after tomorrow,” she said, “if my brother keeps drinking meloxa like it’s ale.”

“I warned him.”

She turned back to Marek. “You know what else I want, since you asked?” She tugged his shirt collar. “I want to take my husband to bed.”

“Is it safe?”

“Of course. It was the first thing I asked Elora. After all, it’s our wedding night.”

He pulled her into a deep, long kiss that heated his skin and won catcalls from the wedding guests. The Kalindons stood and shifted to the ends of the tables and benches.

“What are they doing?” Rhia asked him.

“Moving the feast.” He took her hand, and they walked from the clearing in the direction of their tree house. Behind them came the sounds of furniture being hoisted, as well as a few mugs and plates sliding off to meet their demise on the rocky forest floor.

Rhia glanced back. “Why are they following us?”

“Kalindon tradition.”

“Are they coming to our house?”

“Below it. They’ll keep playing and dancing and drinking all night.” They reached the ladder to their home. “And all day tomorrow.” He gestured for her to climb before him so he could block the view up her skirt. “And the next night.”

From the porch they waved to the crowd below, who released a final, hearty cheer.

Once inside their house, Rhia reached behind her back to undo the dress. “You’d think there’d be a little less fuss in a village where hardly anyone goes to their marriage bed a virgin.”

“Any excuse for them to be obnoxious.” He batted her hands away from their task. “Let me do that.”

With one slow tug, Marek untied Rhia’s dress. He slid his finger under the white lace and drew the soft green fabric down over one shoulder, planting a trail of slow, biting kisses on the bare skin it left behind. Rhia shivered.

Without removing the dress he slid his hands over the curves of her waist and hips, wanting to touch her everywhere at once. It had been so long since her skin could bear to be caressed. Every night for four months he had held her, inhaled her scent, waiting for the pregnancy to give them her body back.

She turned and sat on the bed. He knelt between her feet. His fingers fumbled with the ties of her boots, but he managed to remove them and her stockings in little time. His hands glided under her skirt. The smooth skin of her thighs sent a rush of heat through his own body.

Lingering was out of the question. He grasped the soft undergarment and pulled.

Nothing happened. He pulled again, and met a firm resistance.

“It’s attached,” she said.

“Attached to what?”

“To the bodice.” She pointed to her waist. “It loops up and around the back and over my shoulders.”

He fingered the straps between the two segments of underclothes. “How do I get it off?”

“I have to take off the dress.”

“But I like you in the dress.” He reached forward and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed, tight against his. “I want you in the dress.”

“I could take it off, then put it back on.”

“That’d be ridiculous.” Hands beneath her skirt, he tugged at the stubborn contraption again. “Whose is this?”

“It’s mine.”

“And you can sew, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He ripped the undergarment in half. A gasp and a wicked laugh escaped Rhia’s throat. With another snap of his wrists, he tore the other side, as well, then pulled the fabric down around her heels and tossed it aside. “That’s better.”

“Much.” She leaned back on her elbows, then drew her toe over his ribs and gave him a heavy-lidded gaze. “Now what?”

“Now—” he leaned forward to kiss the tender flesh of her inner thigh “—I make you happy you married me.”

Soon she sounded happy, and felt happy, and tasted happy. The music and chatter below them created a background hum that he hoped covered the noise of her rising moans. After they peaked, then faded, she let out a deep sigh tinged with laughter.

“What about you?” she said.

“I’m already happy I married you,” he murmured against her leg.

“Then we can go to sleep, right?”

“Very funny.” He got to his feet and untied his shirt, watching her watch him.

“Should I leave the dress on?”

“Oh, yes. It’s not often I get to see you in one.”

She passed a hand over her belly. “Soon I’ll be wearing nothing but dresses.”

He paused, and in the dim lantern light he saw her face turn horrified.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Did I ruin it by mentioning the baby?”

“Of course not.” Though to be honest, he would have to reconvince himself that they were alone in the room. “I just realized there’ll be a good side to living in Asermos. You in skirts, for one.”

“And more kinds of food, so I can get nice and fat.” She grinned, but then her smile turned pensive. “Thank you for not telling me what to do. I know you’re worried about the baby, more than most men would be.”

He pushed the old images away. “I know better than to insist with you.”

“I do tend to do the opposite of what people tell me.”

“I’ve noticed that.” He pulled his shirt from his trousers. “So I insist you close your eyes while I undress.”

She smiled, openmouthed, so that when she laughed, he saw her tongue. “No.”

He slid his shirt off, slowly, tossed it in the corner, then moved to stand within her reach. “I insist you keep your hands off me.”

“No.” Her palms started at his calves and slid up the backs of his thighs. They met in front where his trousers bulged, her fingers covering the length of his shaft.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I insist you keep your mouth off me.”

“Sorry.” Rhia unfastened his trousers, then pushed them down along with his drawers. “But, no.” She took him between her warm, wet lips, and his knees nearly gave way.

He had less breath than before, for fewer words. “Look away from my face.” She ignored him, taking him deep and kneading the flesh of his buttocks with her strong fingers. “I insist,” he somehow managed to add.

Her head tilted so that she could gaze up at him without taking him out of her mouth. The sight tightened his loins.

“Stop,” he said. “I insist—I mean—please.” He knelt between her legs. “I want to make love to you now. Not later, after I’ve recovered. Now.”

Her eyes wide and playful, Rhia placed a finger over his mouth. “Don’t insist. Just do it.”

He slid inside her, bringing a sharp gasp from both their throats. She lay back on the bed and wrapped her legs around him, raising her hips to meet his. The skirt fell above her waist so that he could see where they joined. It was beautiful, and it took every scrap of control not to release himself at that moment.

He held her beneath him. “It’ll be over too soon if we’re not careful.”

She smiled. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

In fact, it had been since the night they conceived the child inside her. Less than twenty-four hours later, he became a Descendant prisoner, and they’d almost lost each other forever.

Marek shook his head, releasing the regrets of the past and the fears of the future. He wanted to live inside the now that dwelled within Rhia, to feel every twitch of her tiniest muscle, to fill every breath with her scent.

“Much too long.” He thrust deeper inside her. Their groans grew in pitch and volume, and in their surge of shared ecstasy, he felt, for the first time in months, hope.

Hope that didn’t disappear after he collapsed on the bed beside her. It didn’t disappear when she removed her wedding dress and joined him, naked, beneath the warm blankets. And when she woke him hours later to make love again, the feeling remained. Despite the cruelty of the Descendants and the eternal mysteries of the Spirits, he and Rhia would find a way to be happy, as long as they never let each other go.

She didn’t reply, just scanned the forest from the deer blind that doubled as a guard station. It was tucked into the low, bare branches of a hemlock tree and allowed a clear shot of the path to the river.

Endrus hummed a short tune behind her, then tried again. “Alanka, how come trees aren’t purple?”

His random questions had created a background hum in her head since before sunrise. Endrus’s weird sense of humor used to leave her cheeks aching with laughter. When they were younger and training to be hunters, they would often try to ruin each other’s shots with a well-timed remark.

“Alanka, what’s the smallest spider you’ve ever eaten?”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. It should worry her, but the same heavy cloak that kept her solemn also kept her safe.

“Alanka, where does bark come from?”

“I could hear intruders much better if you’d stop nattering.”

“Just trying to cheer you up.” The tip of his bow poked her shoulder blade. “Or get you mad.” He waited, then poked again, harder. A year ago she would have broken the bow over the Cougar’s head.

He blew out a gust of air. “Any reaction at all would be nice.”

“Why?”

“We miss you. When are you coming home?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m home.”

“Right. Hold still.” He reached out and drew forward a strand of black hair that had fallen from her braid.

She pulled away. “Ow.”

“Told you to hold still.” He held out a small spray of brown pine needles. “Looked like you were wearing a little hat. Rather jaunty, actually.”

A strong breeze was blowing, and the air around them rained with pine droppings. “Lot of them this autumn,” she said.

“Dry summer.” They watched the thin brown needles twirl and fall. Endrus slapped his knee. “So Raven’s coming. Pretty exciting,” he added, as if he were talking about an upcoming feast.

“She’s coming because our people are in terrible danger. That’s not exciting. And if the Raven child is born to Rhia, that means at least fifteen years before it’s bestowed with the Aspect. It might not be this baby, it could be her second, or fifth, or someone else’s. The Descendants could kill a lot of people between now and then.”

“If you want to look on the dark side, yes.”

“It’s the real side.”

Endrus scooted forward to sit next to her on the edge of the platform. “You should move out of that house.”

“Why?”

“Get away from the memories. I’ll help you carry your things.”

She considered it for a long moment, deciding whether she cared enough to change her life. Finally she looked at him. “Maybe.”

His dark eyes sparkled. “In return you have to clean my kitchen.”

She glared at him with mock resentment, then turned back to the path. The breeze blew harder, making her shiver under her light horsehide vest. Soon it would be time to wear fur. She wondered if it would be indecent to find a better coat among the belongings of those who had been captured.

Alanka was about to ask Endrus’s opinion on the subject when she heard the distant sound of footsteps. They rustled the dry leaves with a solid, regular beat—not a rabbit or bird. A deer?

“I hear something.” Her nostrils flared, but the wind was blowing from the opposite direction.

Endrus readied his bow, nocking the arrow against the string.

She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of the footsteps. Human. A man, judging by the heavy tread. Not likely a Kalindon. They all knew that wandering through the hunting grounds at this time of morning could get them accidentally shot.

Besides, the steps were heading
toward
the village, not away. A stranger, then. A Descendant? No, surely not alone.

“I see him,” Endrus whispered. He raised his bow.

A slim man with long black hair appeared. Though Alanka couldn’t see what he carried on his back from this angle, the weight of his walk suggested a heavy load. Someone from a distance, then.

“Halt!”

Alanka jumped at the sound of Endrus’s voice at her ear, low and commanding.

The man stopped and peered up into their tree. “Hello?”

“Who are you?” Alanka said.

He came forward a few steps, and Endrus shouted, “I told you to halt!”

The black-haired man held up his hands. “Don’t shoot, please. I come from Velekos.”

Endrus tautened the bow further. “I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

“Wait,” Alanka told the Cougar. “I remember him.” She scrambled out of the tree, scraping her arm and nearly falling on her head.

The man watched her, hands in the air, his long muskrat coat hanging below his hips. She approached him, his name stuck between her mind and her mouth. Then she saw the black feather fetish around his neck. “Damen?”

“That’s right.” He smiled and nodded at her, then shook his head. “I haven’t the slightest idea who you are.”

“I’m Alanka. You can put your arms down now, by the way.”

“Alanka?” He gaped at her and held his hand waist high. “Little Alanka?”

“How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Ten long years.” Damen grinned at Endrus, who had dropped from the deer blind, with much more grace than she had. “Greetings.”

“Welcome.” Endrus introduced himself and gave Damen the traditional Kalindon vigorous embrace. Damen reacted in typical eye-bulging non-Kalindon fashion. “What brings you here?”

Damen recovered his breath from the hug and straightened his crow feather. “At long last, I entered the second phase.”

Alanka and Endrus shared a gasp. “Have you heard the Raven prophecy?” the Cougar asked.

Damen rolled his eyes. “It’s all anyone talks about, especially now that Reni’s pregnant.”

“Your wife must be so excited,” Alanka said.

Damen’s glance darted away. “Well, we’re not married, ya see.”

“Ah.” Alanka wondered why it had taken so long for Damen to enter the second phase. He must be twenty-seven or twenty-eight by now. It was rare even to reach twenty-five without becoming a parent.

“Go take him to Coranna,” Endrus said to Alanka. “I’ll stand guard alone, try to keep myself entertained.” He winked at them, then leaped to grasp the edge of the deer blind. In a moment he had hoisted himself back into position.

Alanka and Damen headed toward the village. “Coranna will be happy to see you,” she said.

“And more than a tiny bit surprised, I imagine.”

“Funny you showing up now. Her other apprentice just left to go back to Asermos. She’s having a baby, too.”

“I did hear that from the rescue party, very good news.”

“Coranna and I are going to be there next spring when it’s born. You should come, too, and meet her.”

“I’d very much like that,” he said, “but no doubt she won’t feel like getting acquainted in the middle of labor, heh?”

His lilting Velekon dialect extracted her first smile in weeks. “I remember when you were here before, I’d follow you around to listen to you talk.”

“You find my accent amusing, do ya?”

“The way all your words run together in one long breath until you get to the end of the sentence and it pops up.” Her voice pitched and plummeted over the last two words in what she thought was a perfect Velekon accent.

“Uncanny. You’d fit in nice there.”

“Thank ya.”

“So what did you turn out to be?” he asked her.

She held up her bow. “Wolf. Kerza’s my mentor. You remember Kerza?”

“Yes.” He paused. “She survived the attack, I heard.”

“There’s only about a hundred of us now.” The dead feeling, banished for a few moments by Damen’s appearance, returned. “Just the ones who fought in the battle for Asermos, and a few second-phase Wolves who disappeared in time.”

He jammed his hands in his coat pockets. “Velekos is finally changing its shameful policy of neutrality toward Ilios.”

“What took you so long?”

“We didn’t want to be conquered, so we looked the other way when the Descendants invaded Asermos. We’re a small village.”

“Not as small as Kalindos. Especially now.”

He brushed his hand against her elbow in an awkward motion that she nonetheless found sweet. “I heard about your father.”

She groaned and covered her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t understand why Razvin would spy against Asermos for the Descendants.”

“Partly to bargain for the safety of Kalindos, for my safety. But also because he hated Asermos. A long time ago he was in love with Rhia’s mother, Mayra. He wanted to marry her but the Asermons didn’t want some Kalindon scum to marry one of their women. That’s what he told me, anyway. He left Mayra with twin boys—Rhia’s half brothers and my half brothers, Lycas and Nilo, who never even met him.”

“I see. Go on.”

“Last spring he made a deal with a Descendant soldier and gave him information on every Animal’s powers. But he also made the mistake of showing off his third-phase Fox magic.”

“He shape-shifted in front of a Descendant?”

“Who got scared and killed my father while—” her voice threatened to break. “—while he was in the form of a Fox.” Alanka took a deep breath. Telling the whole story at once had loosened her chest.

As they continued toward the village, Damen asked her about several Kalindons he remembered from his last visit. He gave up when it turned out most of them were dead or missing.

When they entered Kalindos, he fell silent at its emptiness, to which Alanka had almost grown accustomed.

A blue flag hung from Coranna’s porch, signaling that she was home and accepting visitors, though Alanka knew it was no guarantee the Crow woman would feel sociable. They climbed the ladder to her porch and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” came an irritated voice from within. “I’m busy.”

Damen leaned close to the entrance. “Too busy for an old friend, heh?”

Rapid footsteps approached the door, which swung inward with a whoosh. Coranna’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Damen. “I don’t believe it.” She moved onto the porch to wrap him in an embrace. Alanka stepped back; she’d never seen Coranna show such unrestrained affection to anyone.

“Come in, come in. You must be exhausted.” She dragged him inside, beckoning Alanka to follow.

“I should get back to my post,” Alanka said.

Damen offered her a slight bow. “Thank you for escorting me.”

“Yes, thank you.” Coranna started to close the door.

“Coranna, wait.” When the Crow woman stopped, Alanka said, “With Marek and Rhia gone, do you need help?”

“Thank you, but now that Damen’s here—”

“I mean, for practical things, like food and supplies, what Marek used to do for you. I could live next door in his house until they come back.”

Coranna glanced behind her at Damen. “I don’t think—”

“Please,” Alanka said. “It’s hard living in my father’s house since he died.”

Coranna’s eyes softened. “I suppose I could use the help. Thank you.” She gave a tight-lipped smile and shut the door.

“That’s odd,” Alanka murmured, wondering at Coranna’s reluctance. Then she walked over the wooden rope bridge to what had been Marek and Rhia’s home.

The tiny house was sparse but clean inside. Alanka opened the two windows to let in fresh air, then sat on the bed and dared a small smile.

Maybe if she left her father’s house, he would leave her mind.