“Why do you like me?”
She stirred, almost sleepily. “What kind of question is that? I just do.”
“What is there to like? I’m not kind.”
“You’re kind to me. And you’re handsome and—and strong.”
“I’m not strong. I fall down weeping over wounded animals.”
“I find that sweet,” she said. “Besides, you could learn to block animals’ thoughts if you’d undergo the Bestowing.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I won’t, and if you assume I’ll change my mind, then you’ve misguided yourself.”
She was silent for a moment. “I like the way you kiss me.”
His arms jerked, causing the horse to stop. He imagined lying naked with Alanka in the grass that surrounded them, his wound bare to the bright sunlight.
No. He’d keep his legs covered somehow so she could see nothing but his face and neck and chest, which were whole and healthy.
But she’d want to see his leg. She’d be curious. She’d want to touch it.
“You want me because I’m your fallen enemy,” he said. “Not because of the man I am.”
“You think I’m with you out of sympathy?”
“It makes sense.”
“It makes nonsense.”
“I’ve seen battle shock in my troops. They go crazy—”
“I’m not crazy!”
“—and crazy people don’t know what they want or why they want it.”
She gasped, then her voice turned icy. “How dare you?”
“Admit it. I’ll never be the kind of man you need.”
Her silence deafened him, and he realized he’d gone too far.
“If that’s how you really feel,” she said, “there’s nothing more to say.”
He turned to her, to take back his foolish words, but she was already sliding off the pony’s haunches. Alanka stumbled when she hit the ground.
“I should speak to Rhia,” she said, “about my soul retrieval, and about the ritual you suggested.” She turned her face from him as she brushed off her trousers. “Thank you for the ride.”
He watched her walk back to meet Rhia, who sent him a wary look as Alanka approached. Then he urged the mare forward, keeping the sea in the corner of his eye.
It was easier this way. Somewhere across those waters lay his home, his family, his reckoning. He should face it alone.
Rhia crossed the fog into the Gray Valley.
Koli’s drumbeat kept her anchored to the world outside, which already felt less real than this wretched place. The light from the invisible sun bleached the rocks a pale yellow, while the dead tree looked darker than ever.
No one met her this time. She called the names of Razvin and Skaris, but only her own voice echoed back.
She noticed that the tree seemed to have grown—not taller, but wider. Its branches hadn’t extended past the second pile of rocks the last time she was here.
She approached it, thinking of the dead tree Crow had revealed in a vision during her Bestowing. That one had been paired with a living tree, full of leaves, flowers, fruit and birds. The Gray Valley offered no such alternative.
As she neared the tree, one of its branches stretched to touch her. She gasped and drew back. It was alive after all. She waited for its twigs to bud leaves, but they remained bare and brittle. Any strength the tree pulled from the unforgiving terrain and sun was dedicated to extending its grasping limbs in a twisted parody of life.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
Rhia shivered at the sound of Skaris’s voice, but she didn’t turn to face him. He wasn’t the one she’d come to see.
“Why, yes, Skaris,” he answered himself. “It is quite pretty, just like me. And by pretty, I mean, of course, ugly.” He dangled the captured crow over her shoulder, swinging it by the feet. Its wings hung straight to the side, flapping feebly. Its black eyes had turned a dull brown, and it no longer tried to peck Skaris’s hand.
She turned from the tree and brushed past the Bear to walk down the rocky valley, her feet feeling wooden beneath her.
He kept pace on her left side. “Look, I can make it talk.” He grasped the crow around its belly and squeezed. It rasped a halfhearted caw. “Not as loud as she used to be. Are you, Rhia?”
She kept walking.
Skaris whistled a few notes of a Kalindon reel, as though they were two friends on a morning stroll. “You probably wonder what I want in exchange for this.” He held up the crow.
“Razvin!” she called to the hills.
“No, that’s not it. I want Marek dead.”
Her pace faltered, but only for a step.
“Then he can join me here forever.”
Rhia knew that wasn’t true. When Marek died—many, many years from now, she prayed—he would pass to the Other Side even if Skaris held a part of his soul. Crow didn’t punish victims.
“We’ll play with this bird, just me and Marek,” the Bear said. “Won’t be long now before I see my old friend.”
Rhia wanted to run, but she knew it would encourage Skaris’s taunts. She kept her pace steady and her face flat.
“Boring,” he muttered. “Not like last time. That was fun.”
A shout came from a high ridge on her right. A wolf pup was dashing down the hill, scattering dust and pebbles.
Razvin appeared at the edge of the ridge and called down. “Alanka, no!”
Rhia ran toward the pup.
“Where are you going?” Skaris jogged beside her. “Don’t you want this?”
He tossed the crow on the ground, far to Rhia’s left. She stopped.
Razvin chased the pup, who tumbled down the steep incline, paws over head, before regaining her footing. Dazed, she shook herself, then peered back at Razvin, ears tight against her head.
“Alanka!” Rhia took a tentative step forward as the crow fluttered and flapped in the corner of her eye, unable to take off.
She cursed Skaris under her breath, then squatted and pursed her lips to call the pup.
The little wolf wavered, then raced toward Rhia again, ears flapping, tongue lolling. Razvin was gaining on her, but his pursuit made her gallop faster. She leaped into Rhia’s arms, a wriggling mass of fur and claws.
Rhia turned to run. In the distance, the bare black tree pointed the way. It was too far. She’d never make it before Razvin caught her.
She faced him, the pup squirming in her arms.
“Give her back.” The Fox’s smooth tone had turned menacing. “This instant.”
“No. She doesn’t belong to you.”
“She doesn’t belong to you, either.”
“I’m not taking her for myself.”
He glared at the pup. “After all I’ve done for her.” His breath faltered. “Doesn’t she know how much I love her?”
“She knows it better than anything. It’s killing her.”
His dark eyes moistened. “But if she leaves, I have nothing.”
“You have Crow. Go with Him.” Her voice softened but stayed firm. “Find peace on the Other Side. I promise it’s waiting for you there.”
The sky darkened, as though a cloud had passed over the harsh sun. It wasn’t a cloud, Rhia knew, even before she saw Him.
Crow alighted on the valley floor, wings scattering the dust into a thin yellow cloud. He ruffled His feathers, then stood up straight, taller than a man. The fear faded in Razvin’s eyes.
“It is past time,” Crow said to the Fox in a gentle voice.
Razvin turned back to Rhia. He lifted his hands as if to touch the pup one more time, then lowered them slowly. “Tell her I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Stupid girl,” Skaris sang behind her. “You could have had this one instead.” A strangled caw came from the recaptured crow. Rhia clutched the pup tighter, refusing to turn to see.
“This one angers me.” Crow motioned to Skaris with His beak. “He mocks us, mocks the very idea of my realm. I have half a mind
to annihilate him.”
“No,” she said. “Give me another chance. I couldn’t live knowing his soul had been destroyed for my sake.”
“Very well. Only say the word, and it would be my pleasure.” He turned to Razvin and enveloped him in His glistening black wings. The ground trembled, then they disappeared in a haze of violet light.
Rhia turned and ran, hearing Skaris’s long strides keep pace with her. Every step felt heavier and slower than the last, until she was staggering past the tree toward the fog.
“Rhia, wait.” A vulnerable undertone in Skaris’s voice made her stop, though she didn’t face him.
“Save my mate, Lidia,” he said. “Probably the only person who mourned my death.”
Rhia remembered that Lidia had been taken from Kalindos in the invasion.
“Bring her home safely,” Skaris said. “That’s all I ask.”
She opened her mouth to reply. Suddenly the pup twisted in her arms, scrabbling to get free. She grasped at the wolf and caught her back legs. The pup howled, yanking one foot free. Rhia leaped upon the creature, who snarled and snapped.
They rolled, wrestling, into the fog.
27
Alanka needed to run. Her muscles twitched and jerked, wanting to carry her far away from the pain.
The sea. She imagined its cold, dark peace. The sea would end it all.
Alanka tried to rise, but something slammed her onto her back. She shoved at it—hair, hands, a pale face.
“Get her arms!” shouted the face. It was the source of the sorrow. It wanted to give her more.
Strong hands pinned her shoulders to the floor. Fingernails dug into the skin of her upper arms.
“Alanka,” the face-voice said. “It’s me, Rhia. Please hold still.”
Alanka snarled and tried to strike out with her feet. They met only air. A woman with hands to her own mouth bent over Alanka’s belly. Warm breath flowed through her shirt over her solar plexus.
Alanka stopped struggling. A feeling as familiar as a childhood scent flowed through her. She whispered her own name.
“That’s right,” Rhia said. “Welcome home.”
The hands at her shoulders—Koli’s, she remembered—let go. Alanka touched her stomach, then her face. They felt like herself.
She sat up and looked at Rhia. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“You almost got away from me at the end.” Rhia let out a gust of air, and even in the tent’s darkness Alanka could see the shadows under her eyes. “But, yes, it worked.”
“You saw him, then? My father?”
Rhia touched her shoulder. “He went with Crow.”
Alanka’s numbness cracked. She jammed her hands against her eyes, but nothing could stop the wail building inside her.
“No…” Tears flowed down her cheeks and dribbled in a stream off her chin. “Papa…”
Rhia drew her close, and Alanka clung to her, though she was afraid the sobs racking her body would break the exhausted Crow woman in two. Koli rubbed her back and murmured soothing words of sympathy.
Even as her sorrow poured forth, a warm glow flickered within Alanka. She would sleep tonight, alone and whole. At last she would sleep.
Alanka couldn’t sleep. Koli kicked and twisted the bedroll in her dreams, as though she were still riding a horse. Hard to believe she’s a stealth master when she’s awake, Alanka thought.
She crawled toward the tent door. A moment later, Koli rolled over into the space she’d left behind next to Rhia, whose extreme fatigue would no doubt keep them in camp another day. Alanka picked up her blanket and went outside.
At least the rain had stopped, and the light of the nearly full moon shone through a ragged layer of clouds. The ground near the doused campfire was damp but not soaked. She laid her blanket next to a scraggly tree and sat on it, leaning back against the trunk and facing the sea. Perhaps its distant waves would lull her to sleep.
No sooner had she closed her eyes than she heard a tent flap open. Her shoulders tightened.
Filip’s voice reached her ears. “May I join you?”
“Yes,” she said as neutrally as possible.
He laid down his own blanket and sat beside her, sighing. “Bolan snores.”
“I’m glad.”
Filip’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “This is better, I agree.”
She looked at his left leg. “Do you wear the prosthesis while you sleep?”
“No, I put it on to come see you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“The ground is wet. My crutches might have slipped.”
She turned to face the sea so that the incessant breeze would blow her hair out of her eyes instead of into them.
“I heard you crying earlier,” he said.
“I think the people in Leukos heard me crying. I was rather loud.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Did I say I was ashamed?” He was one to talk of shame, she thought, putting on his prosthesis just to speak with her, as if she would turn away in disgust.
Filip cleared his throat. “Forgive my harsh words earlier. I wish I could unsay them.”
“I’ll forgive you, but only if you admit I could like you for yourself, not for whatever you think you stand for.”
“Perhaps.”
“Otherwise you insult me.”
“All right.”
“Say it. Say that I like you.”
He laughed softly. “You like me.”
“And why is that?”
“Apparently I possess qualities you find attractive.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
Filip grasped her shoulders and turned her to meet his formidable gaze. He cupped her jaw in both hands and said, “I’m good for you.”
“Prove it.”
He gave her a deep, slow kiss that turned her insides to liquid heat. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, wanting to yank him on top of her and feel his body press the breath from her lungs. But she held back, hoping the kiss would make him want as much as she was willing to give. Which was everything.
When they stopped to share a shaky breath, he looked her hard in the eye. “Proven?”
She nodded. “I forgive you.” She looked over his shoulder at the tents. “They can probably hear us, except for Rhia.”
They took their blankets down the hill toward the shore, until they were out of sight of the camp. Alanka’s heart thudded at the thought of being alone with him again.
They sat together on the sand. “How do you feel now?” he asked. “After the soul retrieval.”
“Happy. Sad. Not numb anymore. I want things again.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “Some things a lot. But I can’t sleep, and my powers haven’t returned. The thought of using a bow still makes my hands shake. I’ll need to hunt soon to provide us with meat, and when I can’t, everyone will know Wolf has left me.”
“We’re on the sea. We can fish.” He lowered his voice. “Besides, I hardly eat meat anymore, since the day you shot that rabbit.”
“Sorry.” She stared out at the water, wishing it full of food. “I’d hoped my father was the cause of all my problems, but I guess it’s more than that.”
“Maybe it’ll just take time.”
“Rhia said the rest of me needs to get to know the old part all over again. Integrate was the word she used.”
“Sounds sensible.”
Alanka sat quiet for a moment, deciding how to articulate the change within herself. “I’ve always belonged to someone else—my father or a mate or my Spirit, or all three at once. Now, for the first time, I could be my own.”
“Good.”
She heard his trepidation and turned to him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you.”
“Good.” This time he sounded as if he meant it.
The warmth in his voice made Alanka want to demonstrate how much she wanted to be with him, but she held back. “You told me once that where y
ou’re from, a man doesn’t, er, do things with a woman he respects.”
“Correct. In Leukos, we would have been married before our first kiss, maybe before we’d even seen each other, if we were from the best families.”
“How sad.” She stopped dancing around her real question. “Does that mean you’ve never had a lover?”
“I’m not a virgin,” he said, “though I might as well be.”
“I don’t understand.”
He looked out over the sea, but to the south, instead of straight ahead to the east. “When I turned seventeen, the night before I joined the army, my older brother took me to a brothel.”
Alanka’s eyes widened. She’d heard such places operated openly in Velekos and Tiros, and secretly in Asermos. Kalindos had largely eliminated the need.
“It was a festival night,” he continued, “so most of the prostitutes were occupied. The only two available were my brother’s favorite and a new girl, Palia. Palia was a virgin, and she hadn’t been hired yet that night because her price was so high.” Filip stopped.
“So what happened?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother paid it for me, even though the brothel owner thought it foolish to put me with her. She said I should have someone more experienced. But my brother acted as though he were giving me a special gift.” Filip turned to her. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
Alanka gnawed her bottom lip. “If you want to tell me.”
He leaned forward, arms crossed on his knees. “I was nervous. She was frightened. I didn’t want a woman who was afraid of me, so I offered to just sit with her until the time was up. She refused. She said there had to be evidence I had taken her virginity, or they would beat her. I offered to cut myself so there’d be blood on the bedsheets, but she said no. The next man would know, and if he boasted to his friends about getting a virgin at no extra cost and the brothel owner found out, Palia would be beaten. And besides, she said, the next man might not be so kind.” He rubbed his knuckles over the faint stubble on his chin.
“So you did it, then.”
“She took off her clothes, and I took her. I tried to be gentle, but I could tell she was in pain. I could tell she wanted me to stop.” He put his head in his hands. “I enjoyed her, may the gods and Spirits forgive me. Afterward I was so ashamed I left without even looking at her.
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