Trade (Deridia Book 2)

by Catherine Miller

  Machrus grimaced, answer enough for her. “Never mind,” she told him with a sigh. She shivered, and he led her back toward the house. She felt her own measure of resentment, as she did not feel ready to speak with him yet, not after the day before—the whole of their marriage, really. It was painful, and that troubled her. But Sladec commanded their cooperation, and he was to be obeyed. Even if she didn’t like it.

  Machrus was a translator, nothing more, the same as their device back in the colony.

  Except that he wasn’t. He was flesh and bone, a warm hand tucked around her cold one, a confusing and utterly silent lump of a man that was supposedly her husband. She shivered again, feeling cold and vulnerable, tucking her shawl tighter about her shoulders. She slept in it every night, its warmth and presence a comfort when she was out here all alone. She would need to ask him about laundering soon.

  She did not fight as he led her back indoors, though she felt sulkier than she should have allowed herself to be. Sladec had done little wrong, and it was impertinent to want to punish him, punish them both, by refusing to share their company. Even if that’s precisely what she wished to do.

  He was by the fire when they entered, a pot simmering over the flames, a long handled spoon in his hands as he swirled the contents. She had not expected him to tend to such things, Desmond usually allowing others to perform those kinds of tasks. So much was strange here.

  “A drink, Renna?” he offered, looking at her with a smile. His tunic, finely embroidered, the latches intricately crafted silver, showed only a hint of disarray from his earlier scuffle with Machrus.

  Machrus huffed out an annoyed breath, and he was glaring at his brother yet again. She gave a hesitant nod, not liking the tenseness of the room. Sladec likely meant well, but she doubted his interference would improve anything. Not when Machrus’s mood seemed to darken further the longer he remained.

  Sladec ladled a generous amount into a cup before he held it out to her. She brought up the edge of her shawl before she took it, knowing already it would be too hot for her hands, the steam clear evidence. She wondered at the Marzon’s hands, as he eyed her curiously for a brief moment, the heat not seeming to bother him in the least.

  She took a sip. It was stronger than what Machrus usually gave her, but not unpleasant. She still didn’t know what it was, as he was usually brewing it when she was still asleep, but she had not gotten sick from it. That was something.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment. His smile brightened and he poured another two cups before seating himself at the table. His pointed looks showed that he meant for them to join him.

  Machrus did not seem in the least inclined to acquiesce, but Renna was moving, and his hand was still on her wrist, so he followed with a begrudging sigh.

  “Are you hungry?” Sladec asked her when she sat down, Machrus sitting beside her instead of his usual seat across.

  “Not particularly,” she told him truthfully. She was still too nervous, this morning too strange to allow for much appetite. Sladec seemed to interpret it a different way.

  “He is feeding you then?”

  She blinked in surprise, but Machrus growled an answer before she could offer any assurances of her own. “I do not starve her.”

  Sladec blinked placidly and took a sip from his own cup. “I should hope not, but I find I cannot trust your evaluation of her care.”

  Renna glanced at Machrus, noting the stubborn set of his jaw, and swallowed thickly. She did not want to be here for this.

  “He’s been doing fine. Really.” She would have said most anything to offer some relief to the stress brewing in the room, but in this at least she was being somewhat truthful. Machrus had cared for her physical needs quite adequately. The rest...

  Sladec was smiling at her still, a little indulgently, a little patronisingly, and she had to stifle a hint of her own irritation. “You are sleeping outdoors, Renna.” As if she did not know that.

  She opened her mouth to retort, but Machrus yet again cut in first. “She chose to do so. Am I to force her to do otherwise?”

  Renna sat back in her seat, a bit deflated at his falsehood. She couldn’t contradict him, not in front of his brother, his leader, but she did not like it. Not a bit.

  Sladec looked at her, his stare rather forceful. “Is this true?”

  “I...” She looked between the two men, at a loss for how to answer. She was not a deceitful person by nature, and she found her desire to cover for the man beside her to be rather ridiculous. Her loyalty shouldn’t be bought by a forceful dunking in the river and a quick strip in the forest. He had not acted as her husband, and she did not need to perjure herself now just to placate him. “I did not ask for a bed outside,” she began carefully. “He made it the first night and I... I didn’t ask for anything different.” There. The truth, but without much blame attached. It was the best she could do.

  Her hands were trembling slightly and she gripped her cup tightly with the one not imprisoned—held—by Machrus’s own.

  Sladec’s smile fell as he glanced at his brother. “So you instigated the arrangement.” Nothing in his tone suggested he was pleased by the prospect.

  She shifted uncomfortably as she felt both men look at her. She stared down into her cup, swirling the contents around, wondering if it was possible for the hill to collapse and crush them all. The concept did not seem wholly unappealing at the moment.

  Machrus’s voice was low, but had also lost a bit of its hardness. Just a tiny bit. “She was used to open skies. I wished to offer her a choice of where she might sleep. She selected that one.”

  She looked up at him sharply. There had been no offer. He had taken her outside, shown her the little camp and...

  She had told him it was fine.

  She bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. He hadn’t meant to banish her?

  He was looking at her, his eyes betraying no softness toward her. If anything, they seemed even more annoyed than his tone suggested. Sladec tapped the side of his cup. “I see,” he mused. “If I may suggest, Renna, you would be far more comfortable indoors. I know it is an adjustment, but you have nothing to fear here. Of that I may promise you.”

  With Machrus’s stony look, she was not certain that was a promise he could rightfully give.

  “I... wouldn’t object... to staying in here.” She peeped over at Machrus once again, trying to see if he had received her answer well, but he was as inscrutable as ever. She had to suppress a huff of frustration. She wished he would talk to her—would simply explain what he wanted so she would not have to try to read his mind at every turn.

  Sladec gave her a warm smile. “Excellent! Machrus, you have heard her, correct?” His tone clearly suggested an unspoken and me, and Renna hung her head. This whole thing was mortifying. “Now that is settled, we may discuss the pairing.”

  Machrus’s hand lurched away from her, and he stood. The sudden movement jostled her cup, hot liquid spilling across the table. She blinked at it in surprise before standing herself, going to the cupboard and pulling out a cloth as she had seen Machrus do on occasion. They were arguing again, Sladec trying to stand taller than his brother, a difficult thing as Machrus was the taller of the two, and she calmly set to mopping up the table.

  She did not bother wondering over what a pairing might be, not when there was a perfectly obvious answer. Even on her glummest nights in her little camp outside his home, she would have taken that arrangement over being approached by Machrus in that manner. She would gladly take the hard ground for a bed rather than try to muster any desire in that regard. And from Machrus’s reaction, he did not wish to subject her to even a conversation about such intimacies, and that was perfectly all right with her.

  The brothers seemed to reach an impasse as they stared at one another, the table an effective barrier between them. She ignored them both and went to the water pump to rinse the cloth. She hadn’t used it herself before, Machrus always providing
water with their meals, but he was currently occupied and the motion seemed simple enough—other than the handle proving much heavier than she anticipated. She set down her rag and took it with both hands, heaving upward until finally it gave, water trickling out to the basin below. But the flow was not maintained when she took her hands away, and by the time her cloth was beneath, all the water had disappeared into the hole in the basin.

  Renna sighed, disgruntled, when a large presence appeared at her side, the much larger hand taking hold of the pump’s handle, a steady stream of water appearing where she had managed only a trickle. She had expected Sladec, but when she turned to offer thanks it was Machrus standing there. He wasn’t looking at her, but she hardly expected him to, not when he so pointedly ignored her most of the time.

  She nodded her head, not going to bother to reach out and touch him and tended to the cloth, rinsing it out and leaving it to dry over the side of the basin.

  She did not want to return to the table, but he was leading her, his hand at her back, and it would have been rude to avoid his efforts.

  Sladec had already returned to his seat and he watched them both carefully as they approached. Machrus’s hand returned to her wrist, and she braced herself for even more of this undesirable conversation.

  “I am pleased to see you can manage some care of the girl, Machrus,” Sladec commented drolly, earning him yet another glare. Renna wondered what their relationship was like before her entrance to their community. Perhaps they were always like this. She would feel guilty otherwise, whether she should or not.

  “Renna, you do not appear comfortable. Is there a reason for that?”

  She glanced up at him, smothering the incredulity that threatened to escape. Must she count the ways? But instead she took a steadying breath, and forced herself to make use of this time as best she could. “I have... questions. About living here. Being here. Your people. And... I do not know how to ask.” Not entirely true. She did. But someone was loath to answer them.

  Machrus grunted beside her, and Sladec sighed and shook his head. “Machrus,” he stated firmly. “You accepted this duty, did you not?”

  Renna couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead staring at the table before her, her half filled cup holding little interest anymore.

  “As if I could forget.”

  She flinched, but forced herself to stillness. Sladec returned his attention to her. “You would like to be able to speak with others alone, yes? To join our community fully, to help?”

  She thought of Adelmar and Edlyn, and though she was nervous to admit it, to suggest that Machrus was not enough for her, she gave a hesitant nod. “Yes. I would like that.”

  Sladec looked to his brother, his expression earnest. “Then do your duty,” Sladec insisted, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “I expect better of you, brother. Your responsibility is to her and to her comfort. You have had enough time for sulking.”

  To his credit, Machrus’s hand did not tighten on her wrist, though it remained a firm reminder how dependent she was upon him. She was glad to have Sladec affirm that he was to care for her, but the method did not seem promising, especially not when she rather thought it had something to do with pairing.

  Sladec stood, staring down at them both, though she could not bring herself to glance at him for long. “I do not wish to have this talk again, Machrus. I expect to see a much happier bride when next we meet.” He did not openly speak of pairing again, but Renna could not help but fear he held that same expectation, but she chose resolutely to ignore such a thing. To dwell on it would only prove distressing, and she was struggling enough without adding those fears as well.

  Sladec tapped the table in front of her, startling her as she finally raised her eyes to meet his. “You have done no wrong,” he told her gently. “Remember that.”

  She gave him a shaky smile, not knowing what else to do, and bowed her head again, this time in acknowledgement.

  His tone was not nearly as soft with his brother. “Perhaps you will bring her things into your chamber now, yes? Show her a proper home.”

  Renna’s stomach fluttered to think of her things settling there with his. Of sleeping anywhere near him. She would be happy to simply bring her things in to sleep beside the fire, but she would address such arrangements when they were alone again.

  Machrus bowed his head also, though there was as hint of mockery in the gesture that was likely only allowed because of their kinship. “As you say.”

  Sladec sighed but said no more as he left, the door thumping softly behind him as he went. Machrus still held her wrist, so conversation was possible, but now... she felt achingly tired, words seemingly far away. She was surprised when Machrus was the one to speak first. “Did you... did you truly not wish to sleep outdoors?”

  Renna flushed. “It’s what I’m used to. I just...” She offered him a tremulous smile. “We all dreamed of proper homes growing up. My parents would talk about them often, of what was and what could be, so when I saw yours... I was excited to know what it was like.” She shrugged a little, trying to ease some of the tension that lingered at Sladec’s departure. It did not help, not when he was looking at her that way.

  “We should retrieve your things,” he said finally, releasing her wrist and striding through the doorway. She did not follow him all the way out—there was little point given how few articles were still outside, but watched him all the same, leaning against the doorpost. She grimaced when she noted two grenpeets were standing on her outer blanket. They were small, clearly younger ones, their noses snuffling about the edges as teeth appeared, tentatively tasting her bedding before springing away. Machrus watched them ruefully before he shooed them back to their mother, bundling up her bedding and folding each blanket just so before stacking it atop another. It seemed unnecessary given that she would likely be making another bed soon enough, but she said nothing. She noted that he did give her trodden blanket a good shake before folding it.

  The methodical nature of the task seemed to calm him, for when he came back toward her, some of the hardness had left his face, and it heartened her that perhaps things would not be as difficult as she had initially feared.

  He passed her as he entered, not bidding her to follow him as he disappeared through to what she had always assumed was where he slept, but she took a few tentative steps forward anyway. She swallowed, belatedly realising she should have clarified that she did not at all feel the need to sleep with him as his brother had suggested, so she continued on, lingering in the doorway, trying to find the courage to join him.

  Like the washroom, there were the strange stones that offered illumination, so she could see relatively clearly. She wondered how he could sleep so, but supposed she slept well enough with a fire flickering a short distance away.

  And it was a bedroom.

  She’d never seen one before, a room dedicated solely to sleeping, and she found it rather fascinating. There was little furniture in the room, the bed large enough to accommodate his tall frame, but without much additional space. She bit her lip, determining all the more that they would not be sharing any such thing.

  The same intricately carved wood decorated this room as well, the shadows from the glowing stones giving it a much different feel. Rather than warm and welcoming, it was nearly eerie, and she took a steadying breath before stepping forward and touching his arm. “I don’t need to sleep here,” she told him. He valued his privacy, she was certain, and regardless of what his brother thought, she wished for him to be comfortable. “I would be happy by the kitchen fire if you’d rather.”

  Machrus continued to stare at her blankets, as if uncertain of what was proper to do with them. Her fingers itched to take them from him, to do as she wanted and not discuss the matter further, but his grip was tight on the fabric and she was not going to war with him for them.

  “I thought you were pleased with dwelling outside, but apparently I was wrong to believe you.”

  Renna frowned. �
�I didn’t... it wasn’t my intention to... I didn’t lie to you!” her voice raised sharply at the end, and she immediately regretted it for he gave her a sceptical look. “I didn’t mean to, anyway,” she amended grudgingly. “I... I think we both misunderstood a little and I... you...” her frustration was growing, and words were beginning to tumble faster than she could leash them. “You’re very quiet, you know! And not the easiest to talk to, and I just...” her free hand gripped at her hair. “I don’t know what you want!” He looked at her again, this time dripping incredulity, and finally, she took offence. “No, you’re right. I do know what you want. But your brother made it clear I can’t leave you as you’d prefer, and I’m just trying to know what I can do to make this less miserable for you. But you don’t seem to want to help me do even that.”

  She’d had quite enough. She couldn’t return to her people, even now she was achingly aware of that, but that did not mean she had to subject herself to remaining here in this room with him. Not when he was so hurtful with all his glares and too-short answers.

  “Put those wherever you’d like,” she told him, her tone colder than she’d intended. Perhaps she was starting to learn a bit from him. She released him, ignoring his sharp inhalation during her outburst and turned back toward the door.

  Perhaps it was years spent in the Wastes that forced her eyes to flicker, to observe all that she could as she made her way toward the door. Death could come quickly unless one was careful, she knew that well.

  And she was glad of that habit when something caught her eye, causing her steps to falter, her heart to race.

  He must keep his things somewhere. Even the clothes that he produced for her each morning had to be stored in something. There was a trunk pushed against the wall beside a tall cabinet, not obvious from where she had first perused the dim space, but clear enough now.