Trade (Deridia Book 2)

by Catherine Miller

  “I’m sorry,” she said instead, not willing to trust her interpretation of his mood. “I could always...”

  “Do not say it,” he bit out, cutting off her attempt to offer to move out beside the fire. Sladec needn’t ever know.

  He wasn’t moving, his torso over hers, not exactly pressing but... brushing. Her cheeks burned and she brought a hand to push lightly against his chest. “You can go back to sleep now,” she informed him, hoping he would accept her gentle persuasion that he return to his side of the bed. “I’ll try not to make any more noise.”

  Machrus grunted but did not move. “I have yet to sleep.”

  “Oh.” Renna shifted slightly, uncomfortable and confused. “Do you... do you need something? To help you sleep?” She had no idea of his night time rituals, but he seemed the type of man who would have them.

  She was growing nervous, his looming doing nothing to put her at ease, and he was staring at her just so, as if in search of... something. She pushed again at his chest, but it remained as immovable as ever. He was frightening her. “Machrus...”

  He took her hand in his, his grip gentle but firm as he brought it to his face. He situated her fingers just so, her thumb against his temple, the rest nestling at the back of his head, his hair impossible to ignore.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice betraying her nervousness.

  “You requested the pairing,” he informed her, almost as if it should have been obvious. “I have decided that it would be unwise to delay.”

  Her heart sped even faster, her nerves magnifying tenfold. Machrus brought his hand to her face, his thumb settling on her temple just as he had positioned hers, his large palm cradling her head much more successfully than her small one could do to his.

  “I’m frightened,” she confessed, not precisely to him. But of course he heard her anyway, and his thumb stroked her ever so gently in answer.

  “I am aware,” he assured her, his voice a gruff rumble in her ear. Of course he was. Because vocal explanation of her feelings was apparently no longer necessary. It was odd and horrible and convenient all at once. “I do not know how it is for your people, but I would make it clear... if I should do this, I cannot reverse it. Though the treaty may be dissolved if your people find that your treatment has been... less than satisfactory, this bond will remain. Do you understand?”

  He appeared more weary than she had ever seen him. His features were not particularly different, the light of the room not allowing for a more intense scrutiny. It was his manner, the way his eyes looked staring down into hers, so green—was everything in her new world to be green?—and so incredibly sad...

  “Yes, I understand. No going back.”

  He brought his forehead to hers and she could no longer focus on his eyes, on the despair to be found there, but she could not seem to close her eyes. He was murmuring something, something that felt ancient and warm as the words settled over her, the meaning lost, his voice too low to truly hear.

  “What am I supposed to...”

  “No more words,” he murmured softly, not losing the pleasing lilt that had overtaken his tone. “Let me work.”

  She obeyed, feeling numb and vibrant all at once, her eyelids finally fluttering closed. Her fear remained, this unknown thing sending shivers of unease through her body, but it also felt somehow shuttered. Removed from her. As if it was a presence she had once known, a common thing, but elusive all the same.

  Machrus was still whispering, and she floated, sleepy and exhilarated in equal measure, until suddenly something bright, so bright within her mind it was almost a pain. And then abruptly it exploded.

  And with it, memory.

  The forest was all around, green and pulsing with a life she had never noticed before. A pause, a glance behind, and suddenly she was able to watch herself stumbling forward, looking cold and miserable. Sladec was near, shaking his head as he always seemed to, his eyes narrowed.

  “You insult her,” he remarked, his anger evident. “And her people. To disappear before the gifting?” He shook his head, as if the very idea was too incredible to possibly be true.

  She—no, not she... Machrus?—continued to walk onward. Rage, simmering and familiar coursed through him. “As if she would have wanted something from me so soon. You saw her at the Cleansing. She was terrified.”

  Sladec glanced back, apparently saddened by what he saw. All Machrus felt was annoyance for his brother, the instigator of this entire messy business. “It is not always easy,” Sladec allowed. “But you are making it far worse than it must be. If you would accept her...”

  “Do not suggest that again.” Machrus ordered firmly. “I will bring her home. I will ensure she has what she needs. But do not pretend that any of this is for my benefit.”

  “It is for the benefit of us all,” Sladec reminded him, and she could feel Machrus’s exasperation. Apparently this was an old argument. “You cannot wallow forever...”

  She was wrenched from the memory, the light still bright but dimming to a glow, but not settling before another memory spilled into her consciousness.

  “Machrus,” Adelmar said gently, her hand coming and settling on his arm.

  Renna was vaguely aware of her disgruntlement that he was evidently allowed to be touched by another while she was not.

  “You cannot force me,” he grumbled back, using his considerable will to keep from pulling away from her, from urging both her and Sladec from his home until he could be blessedly alone again.

  “Brother,” Sladec coaxed, coming to his other side. “They have technologies beyond anything we have ever imagined. The knowledge they possess... think of what it would mean for us.”

  Machrus glared at him. “We have done well just as we are. Let them take their leave and be done with it.”

  “Machrus,” Adelmar tried again. “We know how much we ask of you by coming here. Do not think we are without compassion.”

  He forced himself to draw in a soothing breath, to keep from treating her harshly. “If you were as you say, you would know you ask the impossible of me.”

  Sladec fought for calm of his own and he stood, Machrus closing his eyes so he would not have to see the subtle shift from brother to leader. “You are a son of Krahl. We were born for this...”

  The light was receding, no longer blinding as it began to fade, memories coming more as flashes.

  Machrus looking at his grenpeets with fondness...

  Machrus digging at the earth until his hands were bloodied, determined to build this home, stopping only when Sladec came and laid a hand upon his shoulder, promised him help...

  Machrus entering the watery depths, not even feeling the cold, so numb was he to all that surrounded him...

  Until at last the light became only a dim glow, settling in the corner of her mind. It was an odd thing, easy to overlook, but a presence all the same.

  It frightened her. It beckoned her to explore, to press at it, to investigate this new invasion, but she was terrified she might see something, feel something that he would rather she didn’t.

  Her eyes fluttered open, only to find him staring at her.

  Watchful. Careful.

  Fatigue weighed heavy upon her, but she forced herself to smile, to offer at least a little reassurance. “It’s all right,” she told him as soothingly as she could. “I didn’t see anything bad.” She did not fully understand all that she’d seen, but nothing seemed terribly embarrassing. Renna bit her lip, suddenly nervous. “Did... did you see anything?”

  She prayed that he didn’t.

  He glanced away from her briefly, and it was answer enough.

  Dread settled in her belly, hard and aching, and she wished he would move away from her. Surprisingly, he did.

  She swallowed, trying not to cry, her mind filling with all the things he might have seen, wondering how deeply he regretted allowing this pairing at all.

  Regretted marrying her.

  “Do you... do you need me to expla
in anything?” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears, and Machrus glanced at her from his side of the bed. The little corner of her mind that held their pairing gave a dull throb, a reminder that to see for herself was a simple thing, all she had to do was give a gentle nudge and she could know, could understand...

  She pushed away the thought and focused on his eyes again. He would not thank her from the intrusion, he had made that very clear, and she hoped he would try to respect her privacy just as much. The temptation to violate it, however, surprised her.

  She was even more surprised when he reached for her hand, and she felt a moment’s regret that perhaps it had not worked after all, that they still needed to touch to speak with one another. But he did not simply hold it, he brought it closer, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the individual digits.

  Their hands were not dissimilar, other than in size. His fingers were longer than she was used to, the palm broader, but there was an elegance that made her feel childish in comparison. The markings at his temples were repeated down to his fingers, whirls of darker colouring offset by the paleness of the rest of him.

  His finger came and touched the edge of hers, and belatedly she realised what he was doing. It was not a caress, it was an inspection.

  She closed her eyes, trying not to remember along with him.

  “What was the reason for this?” he asked her quietly, his fingers still drifting over her scars. Her hands were not lovely things, not like his. She had to keep herself from pulling away, embarrassed.

  “The Arterians...” she glanced at him for any sign of recognition. Machrus gave a nod, though it was a hesitant one, so they must not be terribly familiar to him. “We didn’t have anything to offer them in trade. Not that they wanted anyway. Apparently they use the Hasarts for dyes.” She gave a shrug, trying not to remember the feel of their bites on her already abraded skin.

  Desmond had spoken truly on one thing at least. Her new life had yet to include dealing with any insects.

  Machrus was frowning at her hand, his fingers finally still. “And you had no protection?”

  Renna tamped down her incredulous answer. He had seen the state of her clothing, of all of their clothing, and surely he did not need her to be plainer. But he came from plenty, and perhaps he truly could not comprehend how little they truly had.

  “Our resources were—are—limited. All of us had to work somewhere. That was my task.” His frown only deepened, and she didn’t know what to say that would change it.

  “They did not care that you were hurt?” She could not quite make out his tone, but he did not sound pleased at the prospect.

  “They cared,” she assured him hastily. She remembered well the looks of sympathy that she and the others would receive when they returned to camp, hands bloodied and bruised as they washed in the water, bandages too scarce to be used, especially not when the process would be repeated the next day. “But we had to eat. Our work meant we had something to trade. That was more important than pretty hands.”

  She did tug her hand away then and clutched it to her, staring up at the ceiling. She could feel him looking at her, but when she peeked over, he had already turned away.

  “And now... now you accept a pairing you did not want, so that your people may eat.” His disapproval was obvious.

  “I accepted the pairing,” she retorted, trying rather successfully to smooth the disgruntlement from her voice, “so that my people could build themselves a home.”

  Machrus was silent for a time and she tried to settle herself back into sleep, but despite her fatigue, it was an elusive thing. Too much had transpired, too much had yet to be said, and she still worried for what else he might have seen during the building of the pairing.

  “They are not lost to you,” he cut in suddenly. “You speak of them with such... longing.”

  He meant well, she knew he did. But that did not comfort what could not be soothed with a fantasy. “I knew what I was giving up when I came here, Machrus. You don’t have to lie to me.” Probably not the wisest thing to say, not when it suggested that he was in fact a liar by having said so, and by the stony set of his jaw, he did not appreciate such an assessment.

  “Visits are permitted, after a time,” he said instead of the chastisement she expected. “You are not a prisoner here.”

  She smiled, not truly meaning it, but wanting him to know she appreciated his attempt at consolation. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She heard a deep sigh. “You do not believe me.”

  “I believe...” she began carefully. “I believe that you are a generous people. I believe that your desire is to be kind to the brides you bring here. But I also know that everything would be different, even if I returned. They will have built something, created a whole new colony of which I am no longer a member. I’ll be an outsider, and there’s no changing that.”

  “You will be a Marzon,” Machrus agreed, nodding his head as if he finally understood something.

  Renna hugged herself a bit more firmly. “Not even that. Not yet. But now maybe...”

  Now that she’d done all she could. Now that they could speak without touching, now that she would be permitted to mingle with the others—even if it did mean having to venture up into the trees.

  Neither Marzon, nor of the colony. She was a thing unto herself. And it was lonely. More lonely than she ever could have anticipated.

  Except for a warmth in the corner of her own mind, a reminder that there was another that was wholly tied to her, settled in the same bed, so close that touching him would have been simple. And while that should have been a comfort, a reassuring presence that she was not as alone as she felt, there was still the lingering reminder that he did not want her.

  “Renna,” he asked quietly, so quietly she almost did not hear him. The name was strange coming from him as he spoke it so rarely, but she turned to listen.

  “Who is Maisie?”

  10. Collect

  Renna grew very cold. “Maisie?” she repeated, hoping her tiredness had caused her to mishear him. She could feel him watching her but she refused to look, refused to give him any further advantage.

  “What did you see?”

  She cringed simply to think of it, of what he might have witnessed that was most assuredly none of his concern. She knew she had been a terrible choice for this arrangement, had told Desmond repeatedly that it was all a mistake, but she was never more sure than this moment.

  Depending on what he saw...

  “You are frightened,” Machrus mused beside her. “Why?”

  She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, trying to keep away the tumultuous emotions that apparently were leaking through a bond she couldn’t pretend to understand. And still, he watched her.

  “What did you see?” she repeated, determined not to reveal more than he had unwittingly been exposed to.

  “You were weeping,” he finally answered, his own voice free from any emotion. It bothered her greatly that he could be so calm while she felt torn open and ragged. “Your leader was pulling you away, and still you cried.”

  She tucked her arms more fully about herself, shutting away the parts of herself that even now wished to sob at the memory. It could have been worse, she supposed, not the event itself, but what he had glimpsed, and she warred with her need to be truthful and her equal, desperate desire to keep that part private.

  She did not know their ways in such matters, and until she did, it was beyond consideration to actually speak to him fully on that subject. Not that she even wished to. Never again.

  “Should I not have spoken of it?” he asked just as quietly. “Not have revealed what I saw?”

  She took a shuddering breath, considering. What she had seen of him was so innocuous, but if it hadn’t been, if the scenes were full of people and circumstances that were painful and confusing, she would like to think she could have asked, just as he had done.

  “No,” she assured him, hoping she meant it. “No, I’m glad you
said something.”

  His head tilted toward her, and this time she dared a quick glance in return. His face was as sombre as it ever was, but there was no mistaking an impression of... concern. It was a strange thing, coming from him. “You are still frightened.”

  Renna released an unsteady sigh, unable to conjure even the semblance of a smile. “I do not think it... wise to speak to you about... about her.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why?”

  This time it was her lips that pressed into a thin line, trying to find adequate words to express herself properly without insulting him—and all the while trying to shove away the pain, that eternal pain that was as familiar to her as her own appendages. “I do not know your ways. I do not know... I do not know what is safe to tell you.”

  He continued to eye her steadily. “Did I not adequately express that this bond was permanent? That it could not be undone, regardless of these... tellings?”

  Renna grimaced. “You did.”

  “Then I fail to see what troubles you.” The first tendril of frustration seeped into his voice, and strangely, she found it a comfort. It was familiar, in its way, whether that was something that should be or not, and she relaxed slightly to hear it.

  She turned over, settling so she might look at him, even though she felt a greater urge to keep her back to him, to feign sleep until finally he allowed this awful subject to drop. “Machrus,” she began, still unsure how to speak of this, how to explain without truly explaining. “You said you don’t find me... intolerable. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  His eyes flickered to meet hers. “You think something you could say, that you might reveal of your past life would make me find you so?”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly stinging. “I don’t know your customs,” she repeated. “And things are difficult enough without me mentioning something from... before and you...” she waved in a vague sort of way, wanting desperately to go to sleep. Even if it was far more likely that she would lie awake and cry for a while before being able to do anything of the sort.