How the Warrior Claimed

by Nicole René

  “Your father and Kisias always knew that you were the one who would take over the tribe, Tyronian,” Xavier exhaled, heavy with regret. “You probably would have already been chief had it not been for my parents’ murder.”

  Xavier’s father and mother were killed during a surprise raid on their village, and it was when Xavier was only seven winters that he killed his first man and became the youngest warrior in their history. Tyronian’s father took over the Izayges tribe until Xavier was fourteen, when he had died from infection. Although Tyronian’s father was Izayges, his mother was Siraces, and the daughter of the chief. When Tyronian’s grandfather died, it was agreed by his mother, father, and Kisias, who was his general at the time, that he would take over the Siraces until Tyronian was ready to be chief.

  The problem was that Tyronian had never wanted to be chief, and he had hoped that Kisias would have children of his own so that he wouldn’t have to take up the burden. But that never happened. And now he was dead, and the Siraces expected him to take over.

  The problem was . . . he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

  “I’m happy here,” Tyronian admitted. “I know that Namoriee is too. She’ll hate me if I take her away from here.”

  Xavier scowled, clearly displeased, but before he could start to speak, Leawyn laid her hand on top of his, silently encouraging him to rein in his temper. She turned her attention to him.

  “Xavier told me the truth about Namoriee. If you truly wish to renounce your title, you know how. But I know you don’t want to do that,” she said, interrupting him when he went to speak out against her. “So, I think you need to ask yourself what you truly want. Do not base your decision on anyone else but you and your feelings. I know you’ll come to the right verdict.”

  “And if I decide to refuse?” Tyronian asked, looking between her and Xavier. “The Siraces won’t be pleased. It might start another civil war.”

  Leawyn looked over to her husband, who was already staring at her. She smiled when their eyes met, and her head dipped, silently acknowledging the unspoken question between them. Xavier met his eyes.

  “Then we’ll fight. Our loyalty is with you, and you alone.”

  He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that until that moment, and it took him a bit to speak around the emotion that suddenly clogged his throat.

  “Thank you,” he croaked before his throat cleared. “I’ll let you know in the morrow.”

  “Talk to her, Tyronian,” Leawyn called out to him as he walked away. “She might surprise you.”

  It was still a bit hard to be in Aggod’s hut. It was now Namoriee’s, as she was the official head healer of the Izayges. She’d been avoiding it, not ready to go through all Aggod’s stuff and decide what she would keep and what she would discard. There was a time when Namoriee would have been punished if she touched anything without Aggod’s permission, and old habits die hard. But today she knew she couldn’t hold off any longer, so once she and Tyronian got out of bed, she went straight there and had been hard at work ever since.

  She was distracted, so she didn’t hear someone walk in until the unfriendly voice said, “You don’t belong here.”

  All the carefully piled clay cups she’d been stacking tumbled off the table when she jolted. Namoriee inhaled a frustrated breath, staring down at some of the pieces that had broken. She turned to address Samanthia, who smirked.

  “From where I’m s-s-standing, you’re the one who doesn’t belong.” She began to pick the pieces up. “What do you want, Samanthia? I’m busy.”

  “Have you ever wondered why Tyronian left the village so much?”

  “I wonder about a lot things, Samanthia—you’re just not one of them,” she deadpanned.

  With a snarl, Samanthia knocked the bowl out of her hands. “Listen to me, you little bitch,” she said, crowding Namoriee’s space. “I worked too damn hard to get what I want, and I’m not gonna let some little stuttering half-breed get in my way and ruin everything.”

  Namoriee backed up half a step when Samanthia pushed into her more, her eyes glittering viciously when she continued. “I’ve been waiting a long time for Tyronian to be chief of the Siraces, and he can’t do that if he’s with you. Now, I’m being nice. I’m giving you a chance to leave, but if you don’t? You can make sure that I’ll get rid of you.”

  “What do you mean Tyronian’s going to be chief of the Siraces? What are you talking about?”

  Samanthia stopped, leaning back to gauge Namoriee’s expression. Her absolute confusion must have showed, because a slow, smug smile spread her ruby lips apart.

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  Clearly Namoriee didn’t know what she was talking about, but she refused to feed into her. It didn’t matter, because Samanthia threw her head back with a cackling laugh.

  “Oh, this is great,” Samanthia chuckled, wiping an imaginary tear of mirth from her eye. “Perhaps I’ve been wasting my time with you. He clearly doesn’t care enough about you to let you know.”

  Namoriee couldn’t take it anymore. “What are you talking about?” she gritted out.

  “Tyronian’s grandfather was the chief of the Siraces. Kisias only became the chief because his parents allowed it, but now that Kisias is dead . . .”

  Comprehension dawned. “Then Tyronian can be chief.”

  “So, she can be smart,” Samanthia smirked. Her expression turned nasty again. “Except, he can’t. Not if he stays with you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Have you ever wondered why you were an orphan? Or why the tribe despised you so much?” Samanthia gave her a disgusted once-over. “You’re not one of us, and no one claimed you from any of the tribes. You’re just a lost little stray that Tyronian had to beg to keep. Like a pet.”

  Namoriee felt cold, her ears ringing from what Samanthia was saying. She shook her head weakly. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, dear,” Samanthia sighed in mock remorse. “Did he not tell you that either?” Samanthia’s eyes glittered with sick glee. “Who do you think Tyronian was with that day?”

  “I was fourteen; I had just finished bedding a woman for the first time. In the woods.”

  “It was you,” Namoriee whispered, stunned.

  He had told her that, when they were camping out in the wilderness. He had told Namoriee that he found her, and that he was with another woman. It just didn’t occur to her to ask with who, or why he found her in the middle of the forest in the first place.

  “You were his first.” She felt sick.

  Samanthia’s smile was triumphant, unremorseful of the fact that she was tearing her world apart.

  “I plan to be his last, too. You still don’t get it, little girl. I’ve always been Tyronian’s choice. I knew about his little obsession with you, but even then, it was my mouth he came in every night.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Each word she spoke was like a heated knife in her heart. She stumbled away from her, uncaring of the mess on the floor. The shattered pieces were starting to resemble her heart.

  “It was always going to be me, Namoriee!” Samanthia called out from behind her. “You’re nothing!”

  Namoriee couldn’t respond, too proud to show Samanthia that she had managed to completely obliterate her entire world in just one conversation.

  Leawyn was right. He couldn’t decide without talking to Namoriee first. Being chief of a tribe was a big responsibility, and it would be one that his wife would have to carry as well.

  It wouldn’t be fair to make this decision himself. He had done enough to take Namoriee’s choices away; he wasn’t about to add this to that list. He knew that she was planning on going through Aggod’s hut today, so that was the first place he stopped at. But when he peeked his head in and didn’t see her, he went directly to their hut instead.

  It was dusk, and dinner would be ready soon, so he wanted to talk to her before she left. He didn’t want to lose his nerve. Opening the door, he saw her sitting on their be
d.

  “Just the person I wanted to see!” he beamed, closing the door before he turned back towards her, taking a step in her direction.

  “There’s something I wanted to . . .” He trailed off, noticing the look on her face. “Namoriee?” he questioned, appearing at her side in a flash at the dead look in her eyes.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t respond, just continued to stare blankly in front of her.

  “My sweet?” he whispered with genuine concern.

  “Am I Izayges?” she asked, monotone. He recoiled, caught off guard at the question.

  “What?”

  “Am I Siraces?” she continued. “Asori?”

  “Namoriee . . .” He was starting to get a bad feeling about the direction this conversation was going. She looked up at him then, tears making her hollow eyes glitter.

  “Am I nothing?” she choked.

  “You are not nothing,” he told her fiercely, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “Don’t ever say that.”

  “Then what am I?” she asked, sounding desperate. “Tell me.”

  “You’re Namoriee,” he told her, struggling to keep the lie out of his voice. “You’re my Namoriee.”

  It wasn’t enough for her.

  “Where did I come from?” she asked him. “Why did you find me in the woods? What happened to my parents?” Her questions came one after another, like she couldn’t contain them and they were just tumbling out.

  He couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know the answers.

  “You don’t know,” she whispered, closing her eyes in pain. Her shoulders dropped; she wore defeat like it was her skin. He instantly hated the sight of it.

  “Namoriee.”

  He couldn’t handle that devastated look on her face. He went down on his knees, cradling her face like it was something exceptionally fragile. “It doesn’t matter why, or where; all that matters is now. You’re an Izayges, you always have been. You are the woman I love, my wife, and that’s all that matters.”

  “You love me?” she whispered, her face contorting in an expression that he didn’t understand. But he ignored it, because he knew this was the first time he ever said his feelings aloud. He smiled at her, hoping that it expressed how much he meant those words physically.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I love you.”

  She nodded as if she had figured something out. “And Samanthia?” She met his eyes, and his breath stilled at what reflected within them. “Do you love her, too?”

  “What?” He inhaled, and she could almost believe the confusion in his tone. She knew her smile was bitter, but she didn’t care.

  “Do you love her?” she asked again. “You must, right? I mean, she’s the one you entrusted your secrets to. The one you gave yourself to all those years ago. The one you kept giving yourself to, apparently.” She laughed, shaking off his hands.

  She needed to distance herself from him. She was too vulnerable, and she needed to protect herself from any more hurt.

  “Were you going to tell me you were to be chief? Or were you just going to keep another secret?”

  “I haven’t been keeping any secrets from you,” he said to her as he stood.

  She barked out a laugh. It sounded brittle, even to her.

  “You just lied to me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are!” she yelled, taking two angry steps towards him before she stopped herself. She jabbed an angry finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare lie to me,” she said quietly, throwing his words back at him.

  He swallowed. A part of her should have felt proud that she had managed to stun him, but all she could feel was betrayal and something that felt suspiciously like heartbreak.

  He didn’t say anything, and Namoriee looked away, blinking rapidly against the tears that wanted to fall.

  “Namoriee,” he started quietly, his voice wavering. “What is this about? What happened?”

  She coughed out a little laugh that was anything but amused. “What’s this about?” she echoed, sniffing. “I had a visit today. It seems someone isn’t too happy about our marriage.” She turned to look at him, a sardonic smirk tilting her lips. “Particularly at the fact that you married me. Apparently, you can’t be chief because I’m a . . . what did she call it?” She pretended to think. “Oh, that’s right!” She snapped her fingers, grinning. “A half-breed.”

  “Don’t say that!” he growled, his fingers clenched in a tight fist. “You’re not a half-breed, and I’m going to kill Samanthia for even thinking that about you!”

  Her fake smile dropped, and her shoulders felt heavy while her insides felt dull, for he had unwittingly proved her correct.

  “So, she’s right?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling. “I’m a half-breed.”

  “Stop saying that!” he snapped, his expression growing more and more incensed.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she demanded. “She’s right! I am a half-breed.”

  “You’re not. Stop it, Namoriee!”

  “I must be!” she screamed over him, bullish. “I’m not Izayges, nor Siraces, nor Asori, nor Rhoxolani—no one knows what I am because I don’t belong anywhere!”

  He was in front of her in a few anger-fueled strides, gripping her around the arms so tight, she knew she would have bruises.

  “You’re being childish,” he hissed down at her, his eyes flashing like blue lava. “So, you don’t know where you come from—so what!” She flinched when he jerked her so that their chests pressed together. “That doesn’t define who you are as a person. You’re an Izayges! You’ve always been an Izayges! So, start acting like one!”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  Her abrupt change of question caught him off guard, so much so that his grip loosened.

  “Not back then, I know you did then,” she continued. “But when you knew you were going to claim me, did you still sleep with her?”

  He stayed silent, so she repeated herself, heart pounding. “Did you?”

  He didn’t respond, his mouth locked in a straight line with an expression that broke her heart as he dropped his hold and backed away from her.

  “Tell me the truth,” Namoriee said unsteadily, wanting to weep. At his continued silence, she snapped. “Did you sleep with her!” she screamed.

  “Yes.”

  Namoriee jerked back, her hand flying to her chest at the sudden pain that omission caused her.

  “Why?”

  “Because I am a man!” Tyronian roared at her. Spinning around, he picked up the first thing he saw and launched it across the room. It shattered on contact with the wall. His eyes were wild when he turned back around to face her.

  “I am a man,” Tyronian seethed down at her when he towered over her. “I have needs, and the only woman I ever wanted wasn’t available to me yet. Samanthia was there, and I used her. I slept with her, and dreamed of you.” His expression lost some of its hardness when he gripped her cheeks; she could feel his hands shaking.

  “It’s always been you, Namoriee. Only you. You have to believe that.”

  “But it wasn’t.” Her voice cracked on the words, tears shining in her eyes as she grabbed his wrists, removing his hands and stepping out of his reach. “And I don’t.”

  She couldn’t look at him anymore. She turned and headed for the door. She had only opened it a little bit before a palm slammed it shut over her shoulder.

  “Nay,” Tyronian hissed into her ear heatedly, his front pressed close to her back. “I will not let you leave me.”

  “You already ensured that I could never leave you, Tyronian,” Namoriee replied hoarsely, her gaze never leaving the wood and the tattooed ring on his finger that was the mirror image of her own. “Will you really deny me the freedom of falling apart in private?”

  It was quiet, with an extended moment of heartache and regret hovering around them for several tense moments. Then he stepped back. Once his hand slid off the door, Namoriee immediately yanked it ope
n and stepped out. No sooner did the door close than the sob she held in so desperately escaped.

  The sound of things shattering inside their hut sounded as she walked away from the man inside who had made her start to believe that she was good enough.

  Tyronian sat on the bed pallets that, just earlier, he had made love to his wife in. It was the bed they had laughed in, where Namoriee had looked up at him with a sparkle in her eye that he had worked so hard to put there. A sparkle that he had just as quickly destroyed. Namoriee hadn’t returned since she left him. He didn’t know how long exactly he stayed inside their hut, but he could guess that it was well past sunset. Which was just as well since the hut was destroyed.

  In his moment of despair, regret, and self-loathing, Tyronian had taken his anger out on everything and anything in his sight. It was a temporary fix.

  The door opened, and Tyronian’s head snapped up at the sound, but his hope vanished.

  Leawyn walked over and lowered herself gingerly down until she was sitting next to him on the bed. She didn’t pressure him to talk, and instead they sat together; she offered her comfort silently.

  “Where is she?”

  Leawyn turned her head to look at him. “She’s in my hut.” Tyronian nodded, figuring as much. Leawyn was their best friend. Of course Namoriee would find solace with her.

  “She okay?”

  It was a stupid question, and they both knew it. Instead of answering, Leawyn gently pried his hands out of his hair and turned them over. His swollen and bruised knuckles were covered in dried blood. When Tyronian had run out of things to shatter, he had turned his attention to the walls.

  “She fell asleep with Xillik and the twins.” She didn’t have to add that Namoriee had only passed out once she exhausted herself from all her crying. Tyronian knew.

  “I messed up,” Tyronian choked out, sounding broken. “She was just starting to accept me and be happy. Now she’s gone, and I don’t know how I’m going to win her back.”

  When he covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook silently, Leawyn pulled him close. He resisted at first, ashamed that she was seeing his weakness, but Leawyn wouldn’t let him. After a while, he pulled away, wiping his eyes with his arms. Blue eyes met blue when Leawyn turned his chin to face her.