Mahri cursed and lunged for the weapons. Just the thought of Korl could distract her from the dangers of the swamps. She should’ve seen the thing coming; if Caria got hurt it’d be her fault. She grabbed the bow, nocked an arrow and let fly just as the bird plummeted toward the blonde woman swimming beneath the water. The shaft hit a wing, knocking the creature off balance, spoiling his angle just enough so that Caria could swim beneath a leaf.
If it gets brave enough, thought Mahri, it’ll land and attack and we won’t stand a chance. She joined Caria under the dubious protection of the leaf. “Did you bring any root?” she demanded.
“No, your body needs to rest, and you know I haven’t the Sight. What good would it do me, and we haven’t seen a birdshark in so long…”
“You’re babbling,” hissed Mahri, knowing she didn’t stand a chance against the thing without the Power, just that she had to try.
Another swoop and the leaf above them slapped their heads. Caria started to scream for help. Mahri nocked another arrow and shoved through the water until she stood ankle-deep. “That’s better—only louder.”
Caria took a deep breath and complied as Mahri sprinted from beneath their cover, searching the skies as she ran around the rim of the pond. The birdshark had already lunged for the leaf, saw Mahri and screeched as it swooped upward again, barely grazing its target. It circled once and dove straight for her, beak open to reveal jagged rows of sharp teeth, beady red eyes intent with primordial hunger.
Mahri stood stock still, feet splayed, arrow level with her eye. She could hear Caria’s screams for help as if it came from a great distance, for her world narrowed to the tip of her arrow and the red of the creature’s eye.
Not yet, she told herself as the bird loomed before her. He’s not close enough yet. The arrow wavered and she forced her hand to stop its sudden tremor. Not yet.
The thing squawked and she almost jumped out of her skin, heard Caria yelling at her to shoot.
Not yet.
Odd, how a few seconds can seem an eternity.
When the red of the bird’s eye grew to the size of a sun fruit Mahri let fly and the shaft sunk into the slitted pupil. The squawk of outrage made the leaves on the trees shudder with the force of it and silenced the usual noise of the sea forest. It swiped at her with its scaled talons as it beat wings to climb back into the sky.
Mahri sprinted back under the leaf, tossed Caria the bow, pulled her bone staff from its sheath and started back for the open.
“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded Caria.
“No way I’ll get lucky like that again—”
Caria saw the bow in her hands and snatched up a few arrows. She emerged from beneath the leaf shelter and sighted against the deceptively clear sky. “Maybe I will,” she yelled.
Mahri flicked her wrist, extended the bone to almost poling length. I don’t stand a chance, she thought, but swung the staff around her head. I won’t be an easy meal, anyway.
The forest lay too quiet around her. From the side of her vision she saw Caria backing her up and increased the odds a bit. Where had the monster gone? Did it know the waiting was killing her?
A pale, golden head appeared over the edge of the sapling, her monk-fish perched atop those broad shoulders.
“Water-rat, what do you think you’re…” began Korl, then those impossibly light-green eyes widened and Mahri remembered that she stood as naked as the day she was born. That drops of water which sparkled with reflected sunlight barely covered her in their jewel-like cloak. That she stood like some kind of savage with her weapon trained on the sky. That her breasts jutted freely before her, the size of them no longer camouflaged beneath her vest. Their nipples hardening under his gaze.
Korl continued to stare in stunned amazement; he seemed to feast on her body as his gaze traveled slowly up and down. She could feel the intensity of his look as if it were a tangible thing, raking her skin with fingers of flame.
Mahri heard Trian’s voice come from farther down the ladder. “What’s the matter with you? Get up there!”
Jaja slapped Korl in the back of the head, fluffing up strands of golden hair. Korl blinked, then scrambled over the side to crouch like an animal, as if waiting to spring. “What is it?” he croaked, while hefting a spear.
“Birdshark. Have you eaten root?”
“Some.” At Caria’s cry of alarm they both turned as the monster appeared from behind a cloud and began another descent. “Not enough,” he added.
“Feed the Power to me—now.” Mahri’s knuckles whitened where they gripped the staff. She couldn’t believe that she’d just given that command, that she’d rely on someone else for anything. Still, he could refuse, and she half-hoped that he would, that she’d die here instead of becoming further entrenched in this Bond between them. If she could only forget that with her death, he would die as well.
Korl responded without hesitation, draining himself until his shoulders slumped with weakness. Jaja patted his cheek. Trian scrambled over the side, tried to take in what was happening, his head swiveling from the Healer to Mahri, then up to the attacking birdshark.
It works, marveled Mahri, as she felt the Power enter her pathways, shiver inside her head. And it feels so incredible, this Power without the price of root-fever. Suddenly she knew what to do and extended her pole even farther. She only hoped that her staff would be long enough to keep the talons away from her, and that she had enough Power to strengthen her muscles.
The birdshark plunged down at her, talons first, beak open with a scream of fury. Trian threw his spear, Caria let loose her arrow, and both struck the creature’s wing, although it didn’t acknowledge the score. This time such puny weapons would be no deterrent to the rage of the thing. It swooped with single-minded determination. Mahri anchored the pole between her feet, angled toward the path of its flight, and at just the right moment pulled it up, straight into the feathered chest.
The creature struck the bone with enough force to almost shudder the pole from her numb hands, but she held on with Power-enhanced strength, continued to pull the staff upwards so that the bird swung over her head, talons just grazing her shoulders. The creature hit a neighboring tree branch, landed with a thud behind her, its neck snapping on impact.
“It worked,” she breathed, her knees trembling with relief.
“Of course it did,” answered Korl, appearing at her side. His voice dripped with arrogant pride, but she didn’t care, just flung her arms around his shoulders, including Jaja in her hug.
“We did it.”
Korl slid trembling hands down her naked back. “We can do anything together.”
Mahri wanted to melt against him, but she pushed him away and said the first thing that popped into her head. “Well, you managed to get out of your sleeping clothes.”
Korl smoothed the snar-scale vest that sleekly covered his chest, adjusted the leather belt that hung around his waist. “Trian loaned them to me, until I can make my own.” He raised an arrogant chin, but Mahri could tell he struggled to maintain that imperious facade, for the sudden drain of Power had weakened him.
She felt an irrational surge of respect for his stubborn pride and ignored his weakness as well. “Start a new fashion at Court, aya?”
He grinned and crossed muscled arms across his broad chest. “I don’t know, I think I prefer your suit to mine.” Jaja copied his movements, grinning with his own sharp pointed little teeth.
Mahri felt her face grow hot, realized that several other villagers had joined Trian at the edge of the pool and that their eyes kept drifting in her direction. She dove into the water, where Caria had already taken refuge.
“Shows over,” called out Caria. “We’re all right, and there’s a new feathered cloak laying on yonder tree branch that I’m sure Mahri would appreciate being fetched for her.” The men scrambled back down the ladder, Trian threw a departing scowl behind him, and Korl followed with the slowest of steps.
“I drained him,�
� whispered Mahri.
Caria shushed her. “He’ll be fine.”
Korl looked at her one last time before he went over the edge, those eyes near burning into hers. Mahri couldn’t look away. “You’ll be okay?” he asked.
“One birdshark a day is the usual limit.”
Jaja clapped in appreciation but she didn’t blame Korl when he didn’t smile at her lame joke. He seemed to want to impress her with his serious expression, that he had something to say of the utmost importance. She waited, heard Caria beside her holding her breath.
The wind stirred his hair, the pale strands curled over his forehead and swung into the hollow of his cheeks. “Of all the palace treasures,” he said, “there’s none as stunningly beautiful as you looked today, wielding your staff.”
Chapter 9
CARIA LET OUT HER BREATH IN A SUDDEN WHOOSH. “I feel almost… scorched from the fire between you two.”
“Aya. Now you know why he scares me.”
“I’m just grateful,” continued Caria, “that his eyes weren’t looking at me like that—married or no, I’m not sure I could resist that sort of magic. Oh Mahri, what’re you gonna do?”
The redhead shrugged, swam to shallow water and began to angrily swish water drops from her skin. Thanks to the birdshark their drying cloths now lay soaking in the pond.
“It’s not like we have any future together, even if I wanted one. A prince and a water-rat! Why, the entire world would have to change before that could happen. And this charm he has, what did you call it… magic?”
Caria nodded, a look of bemusement still on her face.
“Well, what if it’s his way of manipulating women to get what he wants? And he wants to go back home, believe me!”
Both women gathered their belongings and scrambled down the ladder when they heard male grunts and laughter. The villagers had come to collect the carcass of the ’shark, and they’d already gotten enough of an eyeful already, as far as Mahri was concerned. When they reached the bottom she pulled an anemone spike-brush through hair already half dried by the wind, and then struggled into the silk dress. The fabric clung to her like a second skin.
Caria began to twine a small string of black pearls into a thin braid down the left side of Mahri’s face. She made another on the right and gathered them together behind the mass of red curls, tied another string around the slightly freckled forehead and stood back to survey her handiwork.
“Do you honestly think he can turn that chemistry off and on for any woman?” she asked, pulling a lock of dark red over the green silk and twisting it into a spiral curl.
Mahri shook her head. Tiny black pearls dangled from the string across her forehead and danced across the edges of her vision. “Who knows? They’re used to getting their way—don’t you understand? They’re the haves, and we’re the have-nots. ’Tis as simple as that.” She spun, felt the pearls bob lightly against her brow and the silk flow in waves of soft green across her skin. “They dress like this every day,” she murmured.
“They do not,” said Caria, while she pulled her own best dress of supple otter skin over her shoulders. Tiny seashells were stitched along the hems of the ivory leather and around the neckline. They tinkled softly whenever Caria moved.
“Aya, they do.”
Caria layered her throat with seashell necklaces, her arms with like bracelets. She unwrapped a headband of delicate paper shells and gestured at Mahri to tie it for her. “How do you know?”
Mahri tied the knot and watched in amazement as her sister-in-life pulled out more strung seashells and wrapped them around her ankles. “They parade through the city nearly every day—Caria, how many seashells are you going to wear anyway?”
Her sister-in-life chuckled in response, the sound accompanied by the clatter of her ornaments. “Wald says if I keep adding to my collection I won’t be able to stand up and he’ll have to carry me around. But really, sis, they’re all so beautiful I can’t choose between them.” And with that said Caria pulled on a girdle of shells that graduated in color from pink to red, lavender to purple.
“I’d like to go to the city, just once,” she added.
“I’ll take you, anytime you want.”
Caria sighed, gathered up their dirty things and clasped Mahri’s hand. “I’m not brave, like you are. I love to hear your adventures and marvel at the things you bring home. But I like familiar things around me, and besides, I’m afraid to be without my family.”
She thinks I’m brave, marveled Mahri, as they made their way down the tree through the thickening dusk. She doesn’t realize that I’m just as afraid to be with a family as she is to be without one—that it’s too dangerous to rely on others.
Mahri stopped and untangled her dress from the claws of a snatcher vine, smoothed out a little pucker in the silk and frowned. Caria admires me for the same thing I despise in myself, she thought. “You’re the sister of my heart but we’ll never understand each other, will we?”
Caria stepped lightly across a rope bridge, seashells tinkling in time to the sway of her hips. “I hope not! Then we’d never have any fun.”
Mahri laughed, saw the glow of fire shells through the leaves and felt the beat of the drums through the trunk of the tree before she could even hear the music. Caria pulled on her hand and together they crossed the threshold from the privacy of the dark forest to the light of the villager’s celebration.
People surrounded them and Mahri shrank back, only the pressure of Caria’s fingers keeping her within that circle. A loner by choice, brusque by nature, the villagers usually kept their distance from her. She figured that they allowed her in their midst only because of her connection to Brez’s family.
Yet tonight they vied for the chance to shake her hand or just touch her shoulder.
At first Mahri felt puzzled by their attitude. She’d come and gone from their midst as quietly as possible; the men admired her lifestyle but thought her strange, the women jealously envied her looks but were usually content to just ignore her. This sudden display of affection had taken her completely by surprise.
Yet, she’d saved their lives, and perhaps they felt she belonged to them now.
Beyond Trian’s shoulder she glimpsed another group, surrounding another hero. As if at a silent signal a path opened between the two and her gaze met Korl’s, and the laughter she’d shared with Caria over their mutual misunderstanding of each other felt suddenly hollow. Looking into his eyes made her need someone to understand her, made her yearn for a kindred spirit to share her life with. Mahri cursed softly, even while she took a step towards him. Why did he always make her feel things she didn’t want to?
Korl strode toward her, those brilliant eyes still fixed on hers, brushing off any hand that tried to stay him. He wore a vest and leggings that she recognized as Trian’s, but it’d never fit her cousin the way it did him. With every step he took the thin pelt of smink rippled with the movement of his muscles. The front of his vest cracked open to reveal the ridges of his taut stomach and that fine line of hair that disappeared beneath the waist of his leggings down to… Mahri swallowed.
He stopped a hair’s breadth from her face—she could feel his breath against her skin and smell the musky clean scent of him. She retreated a step. He laughed, a low sound that rumbled in his chest, the stretch of those firm lips revealing the shallow dimple in his cheek as if to taunt her to smooth it with her finger.
“My lady,” he whispered. “Your loveliness would grace any court of Sea Forest.”
Did he make fun of her? wondered Mahri. She dipped in a graceful curtsey, having seen it done only once, but a good imitation nonetheless. She batted her lashes at him. She could give as good as she got. “Even that of the Queen, Great One?”
Korl looked taken aback a moment, then laughed again. “You’ve got me there, water-rat. The Queen’s vanity is well known—but I’d risk offending her just to tell you…” He closed the distance between them again and Mahri could only fervently hope that h
e didn’t touch her. If he touched her, she was lost. His breath caressed her ear as he leaned close to whisper to her. “That no other woman’s beauty could compare to that of a Wilding with only her staff for adornment.”
And as Korl pulled away from her his lips brushed her cheek and she shivered from the heat of it. Her eyes lowered to escape the lure of his, and the leggings he wore covered him like a second skin, and the glow of the seafire shells revealed physical proof of his desire for her, and…
“Caria?” she called weakly.
A feminine giggle responded, but not her sister’s. A narrow-fingered hand, nails sharpened to almost a point, snaked over the bare bulge of Korl’s shoulder, traveled slowly down to play with the hair on his forearm. Another woman—with the blackest, frizziest hair she’d ever seen—leaned against his other side, purposely smashing the side of her breast into his arm.
Mahri blinked. Where’d these women come from? Whenever Korl looked at her the world shrank and she could only see the two of them. Were they the source of his brief display of desire? For he looked as if he enjoyed the attention.
She tried to smile. She should be grateful, after all. They’d saved her. Another moment longer and Mahri would have dragged him off into the night. Yet she didn’t feel gratitude. Oh no, more like an urge to pop them in their artfully pouting mouths.
Mahri felt a tug on her dress and looked down into the impish face of her pet monk-fish, grateful for the diversion. “Where’ve you been, Jaja?” she murmured as she settled him onto her shoulder. He spat out a fish bone that fortunately landed right onto the hand of the sharp-nailed woman, who withdrew from Korl’s arm with a grimace of disgust. “At the food already, eh?”
Jaja responded with one of his best fierce animal imitations, a cross between a shriek and a howl, and Mahri laughed.
Beneath the Thirteen Moons Page 11
