He folded his arms and stood silently, thinking. She expertly evaded his gaze, pretending to have found something fascinating on the floor.
Windwolf absently studied the way the shell beads on his moccasins reflected the firelight. “Keresa, let’s be honest. We both know the reason you want me to deal with Kakala.You haven’t been able to kill me.”
“Is that what you think?” she asked sharply.
He reached to his belt, plucking a long stiletto shaped from a sliver of bone. This he tossed at her feet.
She looked away quickly, but not before he caught the buried desperation. Shaking her head, as if angry with herself, she stood in a whirl of fringed cape and strode toward him.
He was on his feet in a heartbeat. “More doubts, Keresa?”
“If not Kakala, then pick another warrior. Degan would be good.”
In the dusty radiance of the firelight, her eyes glinted.
“No.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“I want you.” Gods, could he say it more clearly?
“You don’t … You confuse me.” She stalked away. The fireglow cast her shadow like a huge beast on the far wall.
“Keresa, talk to me. We don’t have time for useless games. Tell me why—”
“You are such a fool.”
He started to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he propped his hands on his hips, hoping she’d finish that thought and enlighten him. But she clamped her jaws.
A malevolent gleam filled her eyes. “You know, in that position, I could kill you with one swift punch to the throat. You wouldn’t know you were dead until you hit the floor.”
Uneasily, he glanced down, seeing the bare floor where the stiletto had lain. “I appreciate the warning.”
“You should. Two days ago, I wouldn’t have given you one.”
“Two days ago you wouldn’t have needed to.”
She exhaled hard, flipping the stiletto into her fingers from where she’d palmed it. “I wish … I wish desperately that you were the monster I used to believe in.”
“The Dreamer says I’m a compromise.”
“Well, he says I’m the Wind, whatever that means. And you’re Water.”
“I heard he asked to see you.”
“He wanted to thank me.”
“For trying to kill him?”
“For getting the job done, according to him.” She shook her head. “He touched me. It was … dazzling.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“That surrender was the way to victory.”
“I think,” he said softly, “that to be a good Dreamer, you have to speak in riddles?”
A warm, worried expression strained her beautiful face. He walked over to her. The fire cast a yellow glow around them. Keresa observed him quietly. Flickers of gold glimmered in her eyes.
“I heard talk of a great flood. That Headswift Village is to be abandoned.”
“Silvertip says this place is going to be washed away.”
She suppressed a shiver, and he instinctively lifted an arm to drape it around her shoulders. When he realized what he was doing, he glanced down at the stiletto in her hand. After two or three agonizing instants, she took a small step forward and eased into his arms.
He pulled her close and let himself drown in the fragrance of her hair and the feel of her breasts against his chest. A hot tide flooded his veins. “Keresa, neither of us can afford—”
“No.” She looked up at him, and he saw desire and something more in her eyes, soft, fearful. “Between floods and Karigi, we may not have much time. Kakala, himself, said that it might be short … and miserable in the end.”
“Kakala said that?”
“He’s my friend, Windwolf.” She smiled wearily. “My only friend in the world.”
“And I am …”
“I don’t know yet.” She shook her head lightly, as though denying some inner admonition. “But I think I want to find out. Who knows? Maybe after we get past this attraction, we’ll decide it was a bad decision.”
He closed in upon himself, hiding. Her words echoed around the chasm in his soul, swirling, images of Bramble flashing.
“Don’t. Don’t need me. Don’t care about me. Just … don’t.”
“I think it’s too late.” She took a deep breath, stepping back to remove her cloak. “I suppose it’s time to put my foot squarely on the path to destiny.”
“The path to what?”
“I don’t know. Something the Dreamer said.” She pulled her war shirt over her head, flipping her braid back to stand naked but for her moccasins. “Kakala says I need a man who is my equal.”