I guess that was their downfall, not that I was in any position to judge. They’d become so comfortable that they let horrible men rise to power, all with the expectation to live more lavishly. Did they know how quickly these powerful men were to abandon them? Where were the warnings to the Citizens of the valley? Reinick made it to higher ground almost two moon cycles ahead of the disaster. Why not try to protect those who he had been called to serve?
Calish stayed, but why? Because he was assigned to be there by his grandfather. Things would have been different for Reinick if he ended up buried with the others. Once again, he could spin his personal tragedy as a way to connect with the people of Ashlund, not disturbed by it at all. Thankfully, Calish chased after me and escaped his intended fate.
My thoughts turned to Merci, another loose end for Noran. No wonder they arranged for them to be stuck down in the valley together. How many others did they send there to await their death? Apparently, the festival was not big enough to rid them of all their problems.
Cowards.
I wondered what really made Calish come for me that day. Rolling onto my back, I stared at the vast ceiling above me. Calish told our audience Merci had sent him to find his “true love,” but that would have been a much longer conversation than the time allowed. He was on Graken’s heels, and I had not wasted any time fleeing from them. I felt shameful doubting Calish’s narrative, but it simply didn’t seem legitimate. Sure, the story captivated the hearts of many, but was it true?
He wouldn’t lie, would he?
I turned to Calish again. There was a way to know for sure. All I’d have to do is touch him. I focused my eyes back on the ceiling, ashamed to even entertain the idea of searching his memories. Now that we were married, why should there be any secrets between us? Sure, I could ask him when he woke, but I was curious now. Besides, it would keep him from having to relive it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.
Calish shifted and found a more comfortable position by rolling over, away from me, exposing his entire back from beneath the covers.
I turned my body toward him and reached out across the bed, stopping just short of his flesh.
I’m supposed to ask first.
I pulled my hand back, determined to uphold the rules of the Council. I had integrity. However, he’d given me permission earlier; I just didn’t know to find the particular moment after I left him and Merci in the valley.
Does permission expire?
His breathing continued, deep and unaware.
He’s already granted me permission.
As if on their own, my fingertips reached out and touched his skin. He didn’t move, but my heart raced.
You’ve made up your mind, Una; just close your eyes and do it.
There was no reason to instruct him to relax. He offered no resistance or hesitation. The memory sat waiting for me as if it wanted to be found.
* * *
“I need to go home before it gets dark,” I watched myself say, holding back my anger and emotion.
“Why?” Merci asked.
“Well, contrary to popular belief, I am going to play it safe and follow the crazy woman’s warning. You know, just in case. You can’t be too careful when you’re pregnant.”
“I hope to see you again before the wedding.” She waved. “Of course, we will have to wait until the Chapel isn’t flooded.”
“You want to be married there?”
“Everyone does!”
“Do you know what they do to women there?”
“Yes,” she tried to hide her smile, “and I can’t wait.”
The pain of the moment returned as I watched myself go, leaving them alone in his office.
She prattled on, stopping only when the door latched behind me. “Well, that was rude! I guess what they say about Scabs is true after all.”
“Shut up, Merci,” Calish warned her sternly. He turned and braced himself over the desk. “Just once, shut up,” he whispered, hanging his head.
It took her a moment to choose her words, but when she did, she presented them clearly. She took an indignant tone. “Maybe if you actually spoke to me, I wouldn’t feel as if I had to do all the talking! My gods, Calish, you are so disgusted by me you didn’t even tell your Scab family you were engaged?”
He bellowed, “I said shut up!” He picked up the edge of the desk and tossed it on its side. Everything on it fell. Papers scattered, the pitcher of water shattered, and one of the desk’s legs broke off. Merci screamed at him, and he hollered back, neither of them censoring their tone or language from anyone else who tried to ignore it.
All the noise and perhaps a tip from another guard caused Graken to burst into the room. “Sir, are you all right?” he asked, noticing the desk and a frightened Merci who suddenly regretted her insults.
Calish glared at her without regard to his officer standing behind him.
Graken cleared his throat. “Sir?”
“What?” he barked.
“Is that Una’s cloak?”
Calish noticed it draped across the couch. “Shit.” He snatched it up and gave it to his guard. “She’s going to need this. Make sure she gets it, and escort her up the hill.”
“Do you want me to take her home?”
He shook his head. “No. Just get her past the thieves on the new road. She’ll be fine on her own after that.” He didn’t want his guard following me if I decided to go back to the camp instead.
“Yes, sir.” Graken ducked out.
Calish stood at the door with his hands on his hips, regretting everything that brought him to this moment.
“Callie.” She batted her eyes and touched his shoulder apologetically.
He pushed off her hand and moved to the window to watch Graken ride away.
Merci huffed. “You know, we had a deal.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“We all get what we want. You get to keep your family safe, and I get the birthright I deserve. If you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, I’ll be forced to start with your sister,” she threatened, and he turned. “Ah yes, Calish. Finally, I’ve found what matters to you. Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m tired of doing all the work in this relationship. I want you to make me believe you love me as much as you’ve made everyone else believe it. My father made it quite clear what he would do to your pathetic family if you don’t. I’d hate to pluck them off one by one, but if such a thing is what the gods require…” she sang.
Calish clenched his fists. He knew her threats were real, and if the Resistance took me, perhaps they would hide our parents and Marsh there too. He feared if he didn’t warn me now, he may never have the chance. Merci proved herself as clever as she was malicious. Her thirst for status might never be satisfied, and that concerned Calish greatly. Of all the bastard children that claimed to be Noran’s, she was the only one to rule it over him, and that alone made Calish worried.
“I’ll give you the birthright you want. That was the deal. I never agreed to love you.”
“I know many arranged couples who have learned to love each other. You’ll do the same.”
“Don’t count on it.” He pushed her aside, grabbed his hat, and hurried out the door.
* * *
I pulled my fingers from Calish’s back and rolled onto my back in disbelief. She was the reason he came to find me but not the way he’d told his guests. I’m not sure if that brought me comfort or not. His lie slid off his tongue so easily even I accepted it. I knew he wielded words like a swordsman, but twisting the truth was one skill I didn’t know he possessed. What did it matter? He honored her memory while at the same time secured our future together. No wonder Reinick was so upset; he’d been hustled at his own game. He’d underestimated Calish.
So had I.
Calish turned over and reached for me. “Good morning, wife.” He pulled me into him, and I moved into his embrace. “Did you sleep?”
“A bit,” I admitted.
He nuzzled my hair. “So,
” he let his hands wander my body, “did you find what you were looking for?”
“You mean by showing up on your doorstep?” I teased, finding his fingers and lacing them between mine.
He lifted our entwined hands and kissed my fingertips. “No,” he turned my head toward him, “by invading my memory.”
My playful smirk faded from my face as I silently confirmed his suspicions.
“I have nothing to hide from you, Una.”
I bit my lower lip and apologized.
“There will be plenty of opportunities for you to distrust me, I’m sure. Please don’t forget that you have the advantage in our relationship. You will always be able to confirm what I tell you as truth, but I won’t have the same privilege.”
“You can trust me.”
“I know.” He kissed me tenderly.
* * *
Calish was quick to forgive me and even more eager to answer any questions I had. We spent the next few days making up for the last two seasons of being apart. So much had happened for each of us, there was no pause in conversation. When there was, it was because one of us became distracted by the other’s touch. Good thing it was customary to give newlyweds a Lover’s Discovery: three days of complete privacy to learn about their partner. Since Calish and I already knew everything about the other’s family and history, we caught each other up on what we didn’t know.
When we weren’t sharing our bodies, we shared our dreams. Like all expecting couples must do, we considered names for the baby and made playful bets about its gender. Calish sang his favorite songs with his lips pressed against my womb as I ran my fingers through the curls of his hair. He’d spoken about perfect moments, and this was mine.
I wasn’t sure exactly what it was that my birth mother saw in Calish when she sent me down the river to be found by him, but her note seemed to inspire something great in him. I wondered if she knew he’d rise to such a status, a position of potential influence over a broken land. If he gained freedom for the daughter of a Seer-turned-Scavenger, that didn’t involve the Seller’s Stage or bureaucratic payoffs, then he was the best chance the Citizens had for a new beginning; that, I was sure of.
All of that being said, at that moment, I was content being with the man I loved and was eager to learn to be the wife I’d always hoped to be.
To my readers - I know you've been eagerly awaiting this book.
“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” ~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Jennifer Arntson is a dreamer, kept grounded by a very accepting family.
She, along with her husband and two children, live on a ranch in south Texas, with two dogs and a multitude of wild critters. The inspiration for Scavenger Girl started with a dream. Together as a family, the dream became a labor of love, with each member supporting the passion Jennifer had to tell Una’s tale.
The third novel of a five-part series.
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Navigating a new life she never thought possible, Una becomes restless living in luxury. When the death of someone close to her reveals the true nature of one of Ashlund’s most powerful men, she flees the protected gates of her perfect home, through the scorching heat of Toridia and into the shaded wood. There, she encounters Kash, a man more powerful than the gods themselves, leader of the criminal faction referred to as the Woodsmen. In an exchange for her trespasses, he grants her a painful covenant forever binding her to her choices. Requisite to her release, he pays an unsettled debt to Una, a favor so petrifying, it is considered a curse by any other standard.
The weight of responsibility is great, but is it hers to bear alone?
I spent two days, and two sleepless nights spinning the borrowed wedding band around my finger. Sharing myself with my husband distracted me temporarily from the jewelry’s weight, but as soon as Calish’s body relaxed from the effort and release, the ring’s presence returned.
A bit too big for my finger, I kept my hand curled to make it stay put. It had been given to me but, it didn’t belong to me. The simple golden band, worn and chipped around the edges, showed the years of another couple’s devotion. The aged but not tarnished symbol of someone else’s love sat prisoner on my hand. My Lover’s Discovery as wonderful as it had been, had been overshadowed by this stolen memento.
Laying on my back, Calish’s arm casually draped across my abdomen, I took the ring off and rotated it. The band occasionally caught the light of the sunrise peeking through the crack of the drapes. The flash of life in the reflection made me smile. The love of the ring held power. Because I held it, the power would never be anything other than one to cause sorrow.
My husband’s face lay half buried in a crisp white pillow, the expression of contentment and love evident in the pinkish-brown shade his cheeks had assumed after days of digging in the turned soil of the valley. His light brown, almost blond stubble covered the curve of his jaw and filled in fuller over his chin.
“Perhaps I should let it grow,” he asked earlier.
Cupping his cheek in my hand, I wrinkled my nose, “I think it’s too prickly.”
He rolled me over until he was on top, careful not to let his weight bare fully down. Nibbling on my earlobe while his face tickled mine, he whispered, “Think of it this way, you’ll always know where my face is on your body.” He kissed my neck and descended farther beneath the covers.
His lips kissed my flesh, working themselves around my bellybutton and then lower. Assuming their destination, I grabbed his ears and pulled him up towards my chest.
With doe eyes, he accepted my objection, “Fine. I’ll shave.”
I may not ever understand why a man would continually exhaust himself in such a way, but over the last couple of days, that was all he seemed to strive for. Eating, sharing, and sleeping devoured our days and nights. While he slept, I twisted the ring around my thieving finger.
This ends today.
The shadow of the ring prevented me from the rest Calish’s appetite required. Not wanting to discuss it, I never confessed my feelings about it to him. I knew what needed to happen and whatever opinion he had would not change it. My mind had already been made so I waited patiently for the opportunity to carry out my plan. While it may seem like a good luck charm to some, I certainly didn’t consider its value as such to me. There were some things that should never be borrowed, and this was a prime example.
Calish shifted, and in doing so brought his arm off my body to tuck it under his pillow. I waited, expecting his eyes to flutter open with new desire. He nuzzled into a more comfortable place and after two silent breaths, muffled snores escaped his parted lips.
I inched out of the massive bed and slipped on the robe from the hook beside the washroom door. I felt around in the pockets for the silver chain I’d slipped in there the day before while making my private plans. Clasping the doorknob, I reconfirmed Calish still slept. The snores stopped, but the slow rhythmic breathing meant he hadn’t woken yet. I’m sure he wouldn’t object to my plan, but I wanted to do this alone. If I were the servant who offered the ring, I’d rather its return be discreet, not a production involving the lord of the house. If he did object... well, even more reason to do it without him awake.
Tiptoeing out of the room, I carefully latched the bedroom door. I took a moment to thread the necklace through the ring before tucking it back inside my pocket for safe keeping. The hallway waited empty, ready with its plush carpet to mask my movements through it. Peeking around the far
corner, over the polished railing of the balcony, the room below was vacant. Walking lightly and purposefully, I crept down the stairs, through the entry parlor, and around into the dining room.
The table, still full of food from days before, seemed as if no one had touched it at all. Perhaps the guests who attended our wedding thought the display too beautiful to disturb, or their guilt and grief prevented their indulgence. Still, I wondered why so much remained. Unable to resist, I took a pastry from a tiered display to settle my growling stomach. As I had expected, the servants were already in the kitchen preparing for the day ahead. When the man noticed me, he whistled sharply. The two women glanced back and panicked. The younger woman pulled her hands from the water filled sink to frantically dry them with her apron, while the other, the one who gave the ring, dropped her knife on the cutting block to get in line with her coworkers. Together, they minded their posture creating a wall hiding the working mess in the kitchen behind them.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” I mumbled, careful not to spray them with drooly pastry. I instinctively put my hand to my mouth to shield them. We may have been raised as Scavengers, but I knew my manners, not that I did a decent job proving it. Embarrassed, I swallowed too fast. The wad lodged in the wrong part my throat, and I started to choke. Coughing, I turned, desperate to find the water pitcher. The dish washing servant out maneuvered me and acted as swift aid. She handed me the glass, keeping her eyes diverted towards the floor.
I hacked, even after the first few sips, and water ran down my chin and onto the floor. She handed me a napkin, and with a scratched voice I offered my gratitude.
Season of Hytalia Page 40
