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Feeling infinitely more comfortable, Teth strode back down the path toward Randor’s Pass. That morning a small trunk had appeared at her aunt’s cabin, containing what the note described as joining gifts. Piled in it had been a sapphire necklace, gold bracelets and rings, a silver-framed mirror, a crystal vial of disturbingly sweet perfume, a set of hairclips in the shape of mythical flowers, a letter welcoming her and promising a home filled with luxuries and servants when their studies were complete, and most welcome, a dress that came as close as was possible to fitting.
The Morg had carried the other items back to the village with her single leather bag of underclothes and personal items – she would hide the gifts in the forest once they reached Lake Mithrel; they would be useful if she had to start a new life. But the dress she wore. Though the fabric was luxurious silk, it was a simple creation. Obviously meant for travel, it was tight enough to support her and hug her slim hips but not restricting. It had only short, loose sleeves and a deep neckline both of which would be scandalous in the village. It flared slightly but did not waste fabric on pleats or gathers and fell just short of the ground. Light blue, the fabric was almost the same color as her eyes, and its only adornment were simple white flowers embroidered along the neck and sleeves. In all it was cooler and more comfortable that Teth ever thought a dress could be. Other than the long fabric catching on everything she passed, she could almost imagine running through the forest in this dress.
Over the dress, the pendant Dasen had given her at the ceremony bobbed against her breastbone. The size of a large coin, it was possibly the most extravagant thing she had ever seen, crafted in gold with a myriad of tiny jewels set to display Ipid and, by implication, Dasen’s crest. Teth had barely hidden her disgust when Dasen’s witness revealed the thing – she chided herself for not remembering his name; he would be a good friend to have in Liandrin. For all its obvious cost, the pendant clearly meant nothing to Dasen. He seemed surprised to see it, had probably never touched it. In comparison to the wooden pendant’s the village men crafted for their wives, to the one Milne had worn even after her husband had died, it looked dead, its sparkling jewels no match for wood lovingly polished. Even now, the thing felt heavy on her neck, like a loadstone rather than a sign of love and commitment.
Lost in thought, Teth emerged from the trees and found a familiar group waiting for her. Flashing back to that terrible night two weeks gone, she fell into a crouch. Her hand moved toward the short knife hidden in the pocket along the dress’ side. “What do you want?” she hissed. Her eyes found Pete Magee at the front of a dozen other boys. His knowing sneer hit Teth harder than even those big fists could manage. “My husband and father . . . .”
“No need ta start that now,” Pete interrupted. “We’s just here ta congratulate ya. Ain’t that right, boys?” His fellows nodded, wicked, knowing grins spreading.
What are they on about? Teth wondered. They looked like a band of foxes that had just raided a chicken coup. “I appreciate the sentiment,” Teth replied. Sidestepping to keep all the boys in front her, she made her way past them, hoping to escape to the safety of the green. She suddenly wished that she had not sent the Morg on ahead.
“We had a talk with yir man last night,” Pete continued. “I’ll admit it took some convincin’, but he ‘ventually ‘greed that there’d be only one way ta tame ya.”
Feeling her heart suddenly throbbing in her throat, Teth barely managed a response, “What would that be?” She tried to make her voice defiant, but it came out as a frightened croak. What had these bastards done?
“Don’t play dumb wit’ us. We’s know what yir doin’ out there wit’ yir animals, but this time it’ll be a real man givin’ it ta ya. And I wouldn’t expect ‘im ta be gentle. Fuck the wildcat out of ya, is what he said he’d do. Get that flat little belly all swelled up wit’ a pup, keep ya locked ta ‘is bed till ya find yir place, till ya beg ‘im ta treat ya like the proper girl ya should a been all along.”
“You’re lying,” Teth whispered.
“Ya better hope so, hadn’t ya,” Pete locked her eyes and sneered again before turning and disappearing into the crowd of his followers. With a series of gestures to drive home the full implication of their leader’s words, the other boys followed.
Teth was left alone on the edge of the village, trembling. “They’re lying,” she told herself out loud, but that didn’t stop the horrifying images flashing through her mind, the questions, the doubt, the fear. They’re trying to rattle you. It’s one of their games. Dasen wouldn’t even talk to that rabble, let alone take their advice. She repeated that logic to herself and eventually found the will to continue walking. This changes nothing, she told herself. This never happened. They are lying, you know they are. This changes nothing.
She waited then walked slowly, trying to gather herself, to dispel her sudden fear. Finally, she came around the last of the building separating her from the green and saw her nemeses again. But this time, they formed a clump in front of Ipid’s extravagant coach. In their center was Dasen. Pete corked a jug of wilderness wine that they had obviously been passing and handed it to Dasen. They shared a few conspiratorial words. Dasen laughed, the big laughs of an old joke shared between long friends, then clasped the big man’s hand and embraced him. As they hugged like long-lost brothers, Pete whispered in Dasen’s ear, but his eyes never left Teth’s and the victorious smile never wavered from his lips.
Chapter 9
From Across the Clouded Range Page 21
