Machrus shook his head, a scowl settling across his features. “That you do not understand is apparent, otherwise you would not fear this thing. We were washed in the waters. Of all that was and had come before. To begrudge you for what has occurred in the past would be cruel.”
It was sweet, but she couldn’t bring himself to believe him. It was a noble thought, one she might commend in principle, but some things... they lingered.
“Maisie,” she said at last, deciding to end this the best way she knew how. “She was someone I knew, from before. She did not make it out of the Wastes.”
There. All truth, as clean and concise as she could make it.
The pain of it only a dull ache that screamed only when she breathed.
Machrus was silent, thoughtful, and she hoped that was the end of it. She settled onto her back once more, studying the ceiling before forcing her eyes to close. Perhaps if she was very still, he would realise she wished to speak no more of it.
“You must have cared for her.”
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “There is no need to state the obvious.”
“Perhaps,” Machrus mused, and she heard gentle rustling beside her though she refused to peek. It didn’t matter. She was sleeping. That was the end of it. “Or perhaps there are times when it is needed to better understand.”
She felt a twinge of guilt at that. He had done no wrong and she needn’t punish him for his enquiry. But she could not bring herself to move, to try any harder. Not when it was all she could do to keep from crying even now.
He settled once again, his breath even and slow, though she didn’t know if that meant he slept or if he also lay there awake, too confused and raw for anything resembling rest.
The bond bothered her, dim as it was in the corner of her mind. But it was there, and unfamiliar, and the more she tried to ignore it, the more it added a new ache to her already weary nerves.
Until suddenly, instead of a dull throb, a harsh niggle of awareness, there was a soothing warmth, a hushed pleasure, soft and inviting as if sleep itself were tugging at her, pulling her closer until all she had to do was surrender...
When finally, she did.
And when next she woke, she was alone.
There was no Machrus looming over her, no steady presence at her side, too warm and solid to fully ignore, even in sleep.
Her muscles ached, this time not from the harshness of the ground, but from the rare occurrence when she had slept far longer than she should.
She should be up. She should be helping or, perhaps more realistically, be available to help. If ever he’d let her.
But instead she sat slowly, her stomach twisting as she thought of the night before, of what she had learned, and what she’d revealed, embarrassed by the entire interlude. She’d said far too little, and far too much, and the prospect of facing Machrus was a difficult one.
So, after assuring herself that peeping out the bedroom door to see if he was nearby was due to modesty and not embarrassment, she locked herself within the lavatory, spending far too long simply watching as water poured from the little spigot, trying to gather some semblance of calm over herself.
It did not work in the least.
She forced herself to finally shut it off and return to Machrus’s room, for the first time digging through the trunk—she was fairly certain that was allowable—for something suitable to wear. She wistfully fingered her old clothes but did not entertain any thoughts of donning them. It was clear that wives here were to be tidy and well cared for, and daring to wearing overly worn garments seemed a sure way to insult Machrus, in addition to the need for all such things to remain hidden lest they be taken from her again.
She changed quickly, the room dark—there was little wonder why she had slept so long—the only light coming from the stones glowing dimly behind their curtains. She could have searched for the pull, but she worried she would break the mechanism, and she did not need to add that particular embarrassment to the morning.
Was it still morning?
She yelped when the door suddenly opened, and she shoved the tunic the rest of the way down, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing. Machrus looked at her from the doorway, his hand upon the knob, apparently startled at her outburst, though he did not move to retreat.
He glanced between her and the trunk, and she decided to cover her mortification by settling on the floor to put on her boots. Perhaps he did not mean to take her out, but she would happily escape there on her own if it meant some time to collect herself properly.
“You were permitted to find your own clothing,” he suddenly said, and her fingers froze upon the laces, “so you needn’t feel so alarmed.” Apparently he could read her emotions well enough, but not the exact cause. She did not know if she should be grateful or not.
She did not know how much he had seen, did not really want to know, but she was ready to be out of this room all the same. “All right. Thank you.” It was strange, being able to understand his words, to seemingly be understood, without also having to touch him in some way. It was equally strange that she had grown used to the arrangement so quickly.
She didn’t know if that was necessary to thank him, but he was still looking at her, and her laces were tied and there was little else to do. And she was grateful. Opening the trunk, seeing all the things waiting inside, some flimsy and transparent as her initial shift had been, others warm and heavily embroidered, all beautiful in their own right.
And all, seemingly, meant for her.
It was still overwhelming.
Machrus continued eyeing her, and her cheeks stayed red and her pulse still raced. She would not think about him looking at her. She’d pulled her tunic down quickly and surely only the smallest bit of pale torso had been visible.
Surely.
“What time is it?”
“Past midday,” Machrus informed her somewhat distractedly. “Is hibernation common for your people?”
He asked that so mildly that she very nearly thought it a genuine enquiry, yet she caught some flash of... something that indicated he was teasing her. A glint of the eye? A quirk of his mouth? She couldn’t be certain, though his expression appeared as rigid as ever.
Renna stood in front of him, trying to appear unaffected by... everything, and likely failing miserably. “No,” she answered simply.
Machrus did not seem inclined to move, evidently waiting for her to speak further or perhaps ask him to move directly, but eventually he must have tired of her lack of cooperation for he moved backward, allowing her to enter the main living space. She went to the kitchen, intent on finding something for her rumbling stomach, but Machrus interjected.
“Adelmar is outside.”
Renna turned, her eye immediately flashing to the door. “Already?” She knew she would return—she seemed a woman who took her word seriously—but it still seemed rather soon.
Machrus looked strangely uncomfortable, though that impression was fleeting. “She is... most anxious to meet with you again. I am not surprised that she has come so quickly.”
Renna glanced toward the food stores and chastised her grumbling belly. It had been empty before and for far longer periods than this, so it had no business protesting so. Especially not when the leader’s wife was waiting on her. “Why didn’t you let her in?”
Machrus settled down into a chair, long legs stretched outward. “You were sleeping,” he reminded her unnecessarily. “Why should another be present for that?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that was not reason at all, but the woman had already been forced to wait, and any further delay was going to be her rudeness, not just her husband’s.
She hurried to the door, her hand upon the handle, but Machrus’s voice gave her pause.
“Renna,” he called, the new name still strange to her, though not wholly objectionable. A wistful part of her wondered how her real name would sound coming from him, but she pushed that thought away firmly. She turned back, waiting
for him to continue. “My hope is to ignore the bond as much as possible, but the only way I may truly be free to do so is if I can be assured you are tending to your own needs, just as I see to my own.” He looked at her expectantly. “Do you understand?”
She was torn between confusion and impatience, acutely aware that Adelmar was waiting for her. “No?”
Machrus sighed, going to a cupboard and pulling out a pouch, handing it to her with only a small amount of exasperation invading his features. She supposed that was an improvement. “Eat when you are hungry. She can easily wait.”
She opened her mouth, whether to protest or to thank him she was not entirely certain, but he was already opening the door. If she had worried that Adelmar was growing annoyed, her first glimpse outside proved such concern unnecessary. The woman was perched upon the hill, long hair catching in the breeze, a smile on her lips as she enjoyed the sun.
Adelmar looked over at them when she heard the door close, and she smiled in welcome.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Renna said in lieu of a greeting, forcing her hand to drop as she unconsciously reached for Machrus. She would unlearn that habit, and quickly, she’d make sure of it. “I don’t usually sleep so late.” And she would make sure she didn’t in the future if it meant being such an inconvenience.
Adelmar waved away her apology, her smile never faltering. “It is no matter. It is rare that I am afforded such silence. It is a delight.”
Renna frowned, not certain why silence could ever be considered so. It meant being alone, either in a shelter that had once been otherwise, or out in the Wastes without a companion, the quiet indicated that one had strayed too far, grown lost in the sea of sand and heat, rescue not assured.
Machrus’s home was often silent. She hated that part of it, and there was no pretending otherwise.
She stood awkwardly, not certain how to proceed. She felt ridiculous for feeling so, but she found herself almost missing her dependency on Machrus for direction, even his infuriating tendency to cut her off from a conversation when he felt it necessary. Now it was just her and he was standing somewhere behind.
Thankfully Adelmar took pity on her and stood, coming forward with an easy gait. “You sleep as you need to. I remember well the beginnings of my marriage.”
Renna was quite certain that was a comment Machrus would have spared her. But he couldn’t now and she blushed. Did they really expect that of them so soon? She pushed away such wonderings. Machrus had told her it did not matter what they wished in that regard, and she would choose to believe him.
Adelmar laughed, and Renna grew startled when the other woman’s arm came about her shoulders in a hug. “That is not what I meant, dear one. Sladec and I fought often in our early days—still do on occasion. It made sleep all the sweeter.”
There was no denying that the embrace was a welcome one. It was simple, companionable comfort, and though she still felt a subtle sting of awkwardness at her misinterpretation, this entire exchange was happily received.
Except that apparently she was not to be touched anymore, unless by Machrus. She stepped away as soon as she could, remembering that Machrus had said Adelmar had already erred in that regard. There was no need to embarrass her by more pointedly distancing herself.
“You two fought?” she asked, curious to hear of another Marzon marriage.
Adelmar smiled through an exasperated sigh, years evidently doing little to dull the memory of their first days. “Frequently. It is no easy thing, learning to live with another, as I am certain you are aware.” This she said with a glance toward Machrus, who watched them both with a stony expression that was not at all unexpected.
“Adelmar,” Machrus growled in warning.
She shook her head at him. “It is nothing you would not admit yourself. We are all aware of how you value your privacy.”
Renna dared a glance at him, only to see him scowling, his eyes dark and brow furrowed. She wished Adelmar might suggest they go off alone now that she no longer relied upon Machrus for translation. She longed to speak freely, to find some commiseration in her circumstances, but she did not know how to prompt such a thing herself.
And she mostly wished they could speak where Machrus could not grow angry at their conversation.
“You needn’t look at me like that,” Adelmar chastised, a hint of her own stubbornness seeping into her tone.
“You needn’t speak of me as if I am a baracond living in a den. And I do not need you filling her head with tales about me.” There was a distinct hint of warning that made Renna feel nervous, especially when Adelmar stiffened beside her.
“Your brother has spoken to me on that subject already, Machrus. I do not need another lecture from you.”
Machrus merely grunted.
Renna found the entire exchange supremely odd. That Adelmar felt easy enough to dismiss his gruff remarks, his stony glares was perhaps a good sign—she clearly felt no true danger from him, despite how frightening he at times appeared. She wondered if she would ever feel so comfortable with him, to place full confidence in the supposed protection of her agreement, of his character, when at times he spoke so coolly, when his eyes betrayed no warmth.
“Were you here for a reason?” Renna asked at last, trying to alleviate some of the discord between Adelmar and her husband.
The other woman turned, a smile returning to her face. “Of course! I promised to return and see if you favoured a look inside our village. Now that your bond is in place, it would finally be possible.”
Renna eyed her with some confusion. “How did you...” she glanced at Machrus. “Did he tell you about that?” Her stomach gave a tug of displeasure at the thought of what he might have shared of it.
Adelmar’s lips thinned just a little. “Not exactly.”
Machrus glowered. “What passes between us is just so, Renna. I have not spoken of it, of that you may rest assured.”
Adelmar gave a nod of confirmation. “Truly. Even if it was permissible, Machrus would keep it to himself. He does so like his secrets.” There was a hint of reproach in her voice, but Machrus ignored her, and though Renna was curious, she was not going to pry. Not when there was plenty she would like to keep hidden herself.
She turned to her husband, nervous and a little excited. “Is it all right if I go?”
Adelmar frowned, but did not comment. Was she not supposed to ask? Simply... inform him that she would like to go? She hadn’t the least idea, but it felt wrong not to confer with him.
“We will both be going,” he replied, and she had to tap down a flare of disappointment. She did not mind his company, not really, but he seemed unable to be around Adelmar without some measure of contention coming between them. “I would speak to my brother,” he continued. “You may do as you please while we are there.”
Adelmar had seemed ready to object but calmed at his explanation. Perhaps she wished for time alone as well.
The walk back toward the Marzon settlement was a strained one. Adelmar talked most, wanting to hear of the weather in Renna’s previous home and of the foods they ate. They were innocuous enough questions, but each made her feel inadequate, trying her best to speak truthfully while also keeping away the inevitable pity—or perhaps distaste—that was sure to follow her answers.
Machrus was a silent figure ahead of them. His long strides could have easily seen him there faster than their own rather sedate pace, but he maintained a careful measure between them. She wondered why he would. Nothing seemed dangerous—she’d seen no sign of other wildlife than the grenpeets, and they had scattered quickly enough when it became obvious Machrus would not stop to tend them.
At some of their forlorn looks, she almost felt sorry for them. Perhaps even a bit more than almost.
“And your family?” Adelmar asked, her voice light. “Did they approve the match?”
A lump settled in her throat, and she took a careful breath to loosen it. “They’re dead, I’m afraid. And I don’t know for cert
ain if they would have approved or not.”
It bothered her to admit that—it would have comforted her greatly to know for certain that they would have for once admired her courage and sacrifice, but in reality...
She did not know. Not when it was their child being asked to marry a man that in appearance seemed less than kind. When her new home was filled with all things foreign, when silence and strain were more companion to her than her husband.
Adelmar patted her arm. “It is not easy,” she agreed. “My own family were proud that I had been chosen, but still, they worried. There is much expectation when you marry the sanmir.”
“What’s that?” She did not know why some words held no meaning for her while others were clear, but none of this truly made any sense. A language should be learned, grammar and vocabulary developed through time and study, not through the touch of Machrus’s fingers at her temple, and hers upon his.
Adelmar shook her head, her tongue clicking in disapproval. “He truly has explained little.”
Renna didn’t know how to reply without giving insult, so she merely shrugged. “We don’t talk much about things.” Or at all.
“Well,” Adelmar mused, for the first time looking a little uncertain. “Well,” she repeated. “You will find your way. We all do, eventually.”
They both glanced to Machrus at his grunt, but he said nothing more. Adelmar narrowed her eyes at him. “She is yours now, and you being stubborn will only hurt her in the process.”
Machrus turned his back so he could eye her steadily. “Enough, Adelmar. Enough.” Renna was surprised at his tone. It did not hold its usual bite, the firm and barely suppressed frustration that so frequently seeped into his words. Instead, he sounded unbearably weary. She was not certain that she found that an improvement.
Adelmar must have found it strange as well, for she quieted also, staring at him with concern as they walked in silence, the trees growing dense. There were people about them, few, but present, carrying out tasks, though she was not entirely sure of what those might be. The Marzon gave warm smiles and deep nods as they passed, which Machrus generally ignored while Adelmar gave a shallower version of her own. Renna did not know what to do, so in her indecision, she did nothing, hoping she wasn’t offending anyone too deeply with her inaction.
Trade (Deridia Book 2) Page 14
