A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  Jessa slid from their kiss, her mouth pressing against Darry’s cheek as she came beneath her own touch. She moaned in her throat as her body shuddered with pleasure, and then she laughed in a breathless, intimate manner. “By all that is holy,” she whispered and opened her eyes. She kissed Darry’s face as her body filled with a flowing warmth and quiet satisfaction. “You are the most desirable woman…” She brought her hand up and took hold of Darry’s face. She leaned in and kissed her. “I love you.” Darry’s lips were full and lush from the attention, and Jessa felt most fine about that. “I love you.” Darry’s eyes were rich with feeling. “I love you.”

  Her hands moved along the strength of Darry’s shoulders and arms as she pulled back, her heart beating heavy and quick as she surveyed what was hers.

  Darry smiled. “That was…” Her left hand slipped to the back of Jessa’s neck beneath her hair. Jessa’s stomach flipped in a lovely manner at her intense expression. “That one, I shall keep for always,” Darry promised. “For always, and for when I am missing you, and I close my eyes in the darkness.”

  “Well, I won’t be letting you out of my sight anytime soon, Akasha.”

  Darry swallowed and her expression shifted in a strange wave of unease that Jessa felt in Darry’s body. Her eyes were filled with an abundance of color that was beyond what Jessa usually saw, and Jessa caught her breath and held it.

  “Within the Great Loom there is a horrible nothing, a dead and vile nothing beyond the threads. And it takes everything away from you.” Darry sounded terribly vulnerable as she spoke. “Everything. You have no hope, and there is no warmth, and you have no memories. It is filled with nothing, this…this ugly void of nothing that bleeds into your body.” Darry closed her eyes and Jessa swallowed upon a tight throat as the tears slipped from Darry’s long lashes. “It is the coldest and most violent thing I have ever known.”

  Jessa’s vision blurred as her own tears fell, her hand coming back up and holding Darry’s cheek. She felt the smooth scars beneath her touch, the mark of the wolf slain for love.

  Darry opened her eyes, her fingers gentle as she searched, and found a single braid in the depths of Jessa’s hair. “But I remembered one thing. There was one thing that it couldn’t take from me.” Jessa lowered her arm as Darry leaned forward and lifted the braid. “Jasmine.”

  Jessa felt the tenderness held in a single word, and she swallowed down her emotions as she leaned forward and kissed Darry with gentle lips. She touched the wide silver cuff as she sat back again, feeling the runes. The bracelet looked more at home than it ever had, and it seemed to have been sized specifically for Darry’s arm, though it did not restrict the movement of her hand in any way. “This was Tannen’s?”

  “No,” Darry answered her. “It belonged to Adal de Hinsa, Tannen’s mother.”

  Jessa looked in Darry’s eyes for a time and then she smiled sweetly. “Hinsa?”

  Darry grinned in a charming manner as the darkness of her memory, and the touch of the Great Loom, passed from her eyes and was replaced by warmth. “Yes.”

  Jessa’s eyes skipped away and she frowned, her fingers moving over a discoloration in Darry’s skin. Darry’s left bicep was marked with white, almost pure in its presentation. “What is this, Akasha?” she asked quietly. “Up, please.” Darry lifted her arm higher and Jessa turned it, the muscle firm and filled with power. “The pigment is gone,” Jessa said in an odd tone, and she raised her gaze as she slid her fingers beneath Darry’s arm. She closed her hand.

  “Yes,” Darry acknowledged.

  Jessa’s hand was smaller than the tattoo of white upon Darry’s arm, but a handprint was exactly what it was. “Who did this to you?” Jessa demanded. Her heart was beating fast as she felt both fear and anger.

  “Tannen Ahru. Once she took hold, she did not let go…for fear I would fall into the nothing beyond the Loom.”

  Hinsa groaned by the door, the lounging panther lifting her head from the floor and blinking toward the tub with narrowed eyes. Jessa was more startled than Darry, and she laughed, the tension of the moment broken and melting away.

  Darry smiled. “She likes the smell of your hair, as well.”

  “Yes, well she has a…she has this way of…” Jessa blinked and then her eyes went wide. “You can hear her!”

  “Yes.”

  Jessa’s hands fell beneath the water and she took hold of Darry’s, holding them tightly. “Akasha, this makes me happier than you can possibly know.”

  “She took care of you.” Darry looked pleased. “She loves you.”

  “She saved my life.” She could see that Darry understood at once what she spoke of, and it was enough.

  “I know what I want, Jess.”

  “Tell me, Akasha.”

  “I would return to Blackstone.” Darry’s voice held absolute certainty. “I think you were right about Emmalyn’s message, and the book. Emmalyn will need a champion, and I owe her that for love alone, much less her generosity, and her help with our escape. I would have Bentley’s name cleared, so he may walk in the sun with pride and keep his family’s name.” Darry’s grin appeared briefly. “And so he may woo my lovely cousin from her intended husband, as he so desperately wants, before it’s too late.”

  Darry let go of Jessa’s hands and grabbed the edges of the tub. She stood up carefully and stepped over the side, finding the rug. Jessa followed in a push of water, and Darry took her by the waist and lifted her to the floor beside her.

  “I want Etienne freed of all suspicion. And I would have you meet my brother, Wyatt.”

  “The King’s Champion,” Jessa said with a smile.

  “I will have justice, and we will not be driven down a road we did not choose for ourselves.” Darry’s eyes had darkened and her tone was almost violent.

  Jessa’s thumb smoothed at the crease upon Darry’s brow. “Shhhhh…hush, my love. It will be all right. We will make it so.”

  Darry’s eyes slowly softened and Jessa was satisfied.

  “You shall have these things you want,” Jessa said in promise. “I would not have us run either, nor leave the home we have made in any sort of danger.” She smiled with love, hoping to turn the mood. “And if you would like, I shall even let you pick out my dress for dinner, which we are about to be late for.”

  Darry ginned at her unexpected words, her expression changing completely. “Really?”

  * * *

  Darry listened to the laughter that moved around the table and took a drink of cool ale from her tankard. It tasted good, and though she was on her third mug, she was sober and well aware of the tale she had just been told, as were they all. The Battle of Ballentrae Road.

  That she had not been there for Jessa and her brothers caused her a grief she would always carry, but no one had been injured, and it had been a stunning victory. She sat beside Jessa at the head of the table, and Jessa had pulled their chairs as close as they could be. She had felt Jessa’s touch in some way almost constantly since her return, and she was glad for it.

  Jessa leaned toward her, a slight blush in her cheeks as Darry drank. “I may have left out a few details, I apologize.”

  Darry swallowed awkwardly and set her drink down, wiping at her lips. “A few?”

  Jessa gave her a sweet smile and turned back to the table.

  Darry cleared her throat and then stood up, her chair pushing back with a scrape of sound. Someone let out a high-pitched whistle and there was more laughter. It was followed by clapping and Darry held her hands up. “Leave off!” she called out and then laughed.

  Jessa’s left hand slid about the back of her thigh and between her legs slightly, and Darry met Jessa’s gaze, startled but smiling at the utter breach of etiquette. Jessa’s expression was filled with a playfulness she usually didn’t show in front of others, and it made Darry’s heart skip. Jessa grinned in a somewhat wicked manner as she looked away, though she did not remove her hand.

  “Quiet, please,” Jessa said in her normal
voice.

  The unruly noise in the dining hall died away rather quickly, and Darry cleared her throat instead of laughing. “Well, yes, now that I’ve lost complete command over everything,” she said in a dry voice, “I have a few things to say.”

  “Do we need more wine for this?” Bentley asked.

  Jessa laughed with their chosen family and it made Darry extremely happy. Her right hand played upon the glyphs of her Shou-ah cuff, and though the runes were no longer pronounced, for a moment they felt as if they were.

  “Please,” she said in an almost whisper and sidestepped her grief as best she could.

  Silence and complete attention were given in response.

  “We have decisions to make, and though I would not spoil the fun, now that I have you all in one place, and reasonably sober…and I am not unconscious”—there was quiet laughter—“I would like to ask your thoughts on what our future should hold.”

  She cleared her throat, remembering Adal’s words. “A wise woman told me, not so very long ago…” Darry frowned at that and looked down. She swallowed, and tipped her head to the side as she realized she could not count the years between then and now, for they were stacked one upon the other until they could not even be numbered. She closed her eyes against it and she felt Jessa’s hand move upon her leg.

  She looked up. “It does not matter when she said it, I suppose.” Darry ducked her face again, searching. Jessa’s eyes were bright with love and Darry turned back to the table. “She said that you must fight for what is yours. If you do not fight for what is yours, it will be taken from you, or you will be driven away from what you love by the will of others. And this is what happened to us, in a way. We made our retreat, for many reasons, though mostly for my life. And there are no words that will properly express my thanks to you, for such a stunning sacrifice.”

  “It was no sacrifice, Darry,” Lucien said reasonably.

  “Perhaps in some ways, no,” Darry agreed. “But the fact remains that we were driven from our home, no matter our circumstances now. And though Lanark has become a home unlike any we’ve ever had before, and in my heart, it will always be so, nonetheless, we were driven from our lives by another man’s crimes. By murder, treachery, and treason. And with this latest attack upon our lives and freedom, we would be driven yet again by the will of another.”

  Darry reached within her black jacket and pulled out a piece of folded parchment, holding up Emmalyn’s last message. “Though as I have just learned, perhaps our fate should be something else entirely.” She looked at Bentley and his eyes were bright and filled with hope. “I have learned that the Princess Emmalyn means to overthrow Malcolm for the right to follow the High King and sit upon the Blackwood Throne when the time comes.”

  She waited for someone to speak, but though there was surprise, no one did.

  “I know my sister well,” Darry said with a grin. “And she would not make such a move without evidence of Malcolm’s guilt. And she would not reveal this to us, unless she was bloody well close upon his heels. I also know that she might have asked for me to return, and she has not done so.”

  “Why not?” Matty asked, and Lucien reached to his left and set his hand upon the boy’s shoulder, giving him a smile.

  “Because she would rather make this right than ask any one of us to sacrifice more than we already have.”

  “So what are you asking us, Darry?” Matthias spoke from the opposite end of the table.

  “I would like to return to Blackstone. I would serve as Emmalyn’s champion if it is needed. I would not see Royce put in any danger. My sister has already lost one man she loved, and I would not see it happen a second time. Royce is a damn fine swordsman, but I am thinking that Malcolm’s champion is better.”

  “Mason Jefs,” Arkady said in a dark tone.

  “And though my relationship with my family is, well, not exactly…”

  “Smooth?” Bentley suggested, and grinned beneath his mustache.

  “Thank you, Bentley. Always a good man in a pinch.” There were smiles at that and Darry was glad for it. “We all love Arravan. We fought side by side, every one of us in some way, in the Siege of the Great Hall. We would have given our all if necessary. Honor”—they raised their voices with her—“is our standard. Life is short. The rules are simple.”

  Darry nodded with pride, and she could feel the heat in her face yet again. “I would return to Blackstone with my brothers by my side and see justice served upon the guilty.” She found Etienne’s face and held his eyes, and then she turned to her dearest friend. “I would see Bentley and Etienne cleared, and their good names and honor restored. I would see Bentley marry my cousin, if he can convince her of such.” Cheers went up as Bentley blushed in surprise, and the dishes shook as fists hit the table.

  Darry raised her voice above the din. “I would see justice done, and then choose the road ahead, with clear eyes and nothing behind us!”

  Chairs were shoved back and Darry’s Boys rose to their feet. Jessa stood as they did, and she took hold of Darry’s hand in a fierce grip with both hands.

  In the sudden silence, Darry smiled and stabbed at the heart of it all. “What say you, my beloved brothers? Shall we see Bentley Greeves properly wed by Solstice Eve?”

  Jessa laughed as Bentley stepped back with panicked eyes, Jemin McNeely pushing down the length of the long table. Jemin grabbed Bentley’s arm before he could retreat farther and he pulled, bending at the waist. Bentley was hoisted over Jemin’s massive shoulder, laughing as Jemin stood up straight.

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Jemin smiled. “If I have to carry him there myself.”

  Jessa let go of Darry’s hand and moved about the corner of the table amidst the laughter and shouting. Jemin turned and Bentley pushed against Jemin’s broad and well-muscled back, his face red as he raised it. Jessa slid close and took his face between her hands, kissing him beside the mouth.

  Another cheer went up and the table shook as a plate crashed to the floor.

  Darry moved her chair back again and stepped free of the table, grabbing up her sword belt from where it hung upon the back of her chair. Jessa’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, and she rushed back, sliding on the floor again until Darry caught her in the circle of her right arm.

  “Yes, Akasha, now,” Jessa said happily.

  Darry thought for a heartbeat that she just might die at the joy she saw in Jessa’s eyes, and she could think of no better way to go. She leaned down and kissed her, Jessa holding Darry’s face and tasting of her tongue.

  Darry stepped away from her lover and held Zephyr Wind high above her head, the scabbard familiar in her hand, the light catching upon her Shou-ah cuff, gifted to her by the last Loquio of the Fox People. Hinsa wound about her legs, and Darry glanced down with a smile. It took a few seconds, but the riot of noise settled into silence, Jemin dropping Bentley to his feet and hugging him before they both turned.

  All eyes were upon her.

  “There is an old custom which fell out of favor many years ago,” Darry said in a strong, steady voice for all to hear. “For the Bloods of Arravan prickled at what it meant for them, and so talked it down through the years until it was no longer practiced. But that which falls out of favor is not outlawed unless it is stricken from the laws of the land. This custom is still written, and so it is still binding by law should any challenge it. It was called the Rite of a Noble Man, and it shall be called so again this night.

  “I am Darrius Lauranna Durand,” she told them, looking them each in the eyes. “And on this night, I will see you made Lords of Arravan.” Darry’s chest filled with pride and love at what she saw in their startled expressions. “I have no rank, and I have no title, so I cannot confer upon you that which should already be yours.” Darry met Jessa’s eyes and lowered her sword. She tipped the scabbard and rested it upon her right arm, its swirling Blue Vale grip an offer to her lover. “But our Lady Jessa-Sirrah, Princess of Lyoness and Priestess of the Vhaelin, has all royal r
ights and privileges to bestow upon you what you have already earned a thousand times over.”

  Jessa stared at her in surprise

  “Take it, my sweet Jess,” Darry said with love. “Custom says that the first you choose shall then be the First Lord among those who are yours.”

  “Akasha,” Jessa said, and her heart filled with a rush of love at Darry’s choice of words. She wrapped her right hand about the grip of Zephyr Wind, and she felt its ancient power. It slid from its black leather scabbard with a sleek sound, and its deadly tip came free with a ping that rang throughout the silent hall.

  Jessa looked at the beauty of the blade she held, and then she lifted her sable eyes. “I choose you, Darrius Lauranna Durand.”

  Darry leaned back a bit, as startled as the others had been but moments before.

  The dishes upon the table rattled softly, and within a few seconds, the quiet steady beat of sound began to grow. Jessa watched as they rapped their fists against the table, together as one. The beat became louder, and Jessa’s heart beat fast and strong in rhythm with their approval.

  Darry turned from the room and Jessa saw her lover’s wild, generous soul in the green and blue of her eyes. Green for the forests of old, and the mysteries of the ancient and dark Abatmarle that gave birth to the Fox People, and the lost Cha-Diah majik that was the very beat of Darry’s heart. Blue for the sea, and the wayfaring kings that had sailed it, before they had made Arravan their home, passing their valiant, adventurous blood down through the ages until it ran in the veins of the woman she loved.

  Jessa smiled at her, more than pleased that she could actually return the same precious gift that Darry had once given to her. “I choose you, Akasha, over all others, always. You shall always be my first. Bend a knee, my love, if you would, please.”

  Darry’s hair fell forward as she bowed her head and dropped to her right knee.