He kept staring at her body, remembering the things she had done the night before. He rubbed his chin. It wasn’t like he really did have anything to do. Nothing that wouldn’t wait, anyway.
Twenty-four
Heron Wing had waited, ensuring that Stone and Morning Dew were deeply asleep before she’d risen, dressed, and slipped out into the night. The darkness was almost complete. Heron Wing conjured images of wading through soot. Thick and inky, an impenetrable cloud cover had come rolling down from the north and ensured that no starlight penetrated the gloom. Split Sky City might have been a Dream.
The scent of smoke hung richly in the air—not just that of the cook fires, but the more pungent aroma of burned thatch. A house had caught fire that afternoon: one of the Deer Clan weavers’. For a moment, it had looked as if it would spread from house to house, but a change in the wind had allowed several brave individuals to collapse one of the burning roofs and stop the spread.
Heron Wing practically had to feel with her feet, stepping carefully down the beaten path. The trail hugged the northern boundary of the plaza. This wasn’t her way—not sneaking around in the middle of the night like this. What she was doing was more akin to Violet Bead’s doing.
But she is not in love. She nearly tripped in the dark. This is madness!
Gods, she was acting like a silly girl. And hadn’t she been the one who gave the lectures about the mistakes of passion?
She oriented herself, approaching the bulk of the Skunk Clan mound, and felt her way around its edge. Halfway into the maze of houses, she kicked a pot, hearing it clatter. Immediately a dog began barking. Someone shouted harshly to silence it.
Heart pounding, she stood, frozen until her breathing grew normal. The house had to be somewhere close. And she couldn’t let Swimmer bark. That pesky Squash Blossom would immediately wonder who was at the Traders’ at this time of night.
Why didn’t I plan this better?
It was impulse. She’d been lying in her bed, thrashing around in her blankets. Her souls had remained locked on one thing: No matter how much sense it made, the knowledge that Morning Dew and Green Snake were playing lovers had been gnawing at her all day. With so much in the balance, that her souls had fixed on that defied her best ability to explain. Not only that, she wasn’t an idiot. The speculative, veiled looks that Morning Dew was giving Green Snake were more than just sham interest.
And why not? He’s a handsome man. Those broad shoulders, the ropy muscle, and the slim waist would catch any woman’s eye. But it was more. Something about looking into his eyes; seeing the reflection of his souls was enough to trigger any woman’s interest. Violet Bead, with just a glimpse, had responded immediately with an invitation.
And now I’m being every bit as foolish and careless as she is.
Violet Bead had always liked living on the dangerous side. The fact that she showed great discretion was proved by the fact Smoke Shield hadn’t cut her nose or ears off. Generally that’s how her people treated adultery.
So what am I doing?
She eased around the side of what she thought was Green Snake’s house. Feeling with her toe, she found the log where she’d sat with him that day.
“Swimmer?” she whispered. “Swimmer?”
The dog was a black shape that slipped out from under the door hanging. She bent down, fluffing his ears. “Hello, Swimmer. Is your master home?”
She straightened, slipping the hanging back. “Green Snake?”
“Who comes?”
“Who were you expecting?” she whispered.
Fabric rustled. He peered at her in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”
Words died in her throat.
“Heron Wing?”
She sighed. “I came for you.” Then, “Gods, I’m making a mess of this.”
A hand found hers in the darkness. He led her into the interior, where she had to feel with her feet lest she step into the fire pit, or knock over something.
“Are you sure?” he asked as he pulled her into his arms.
“More sure than I’ve ever been in my life.” She wound her arms around him, feeling the muscles in his back. For long moments, she just clung to him, wondering at the sensation of her body pressed against his.
“Where’s your bed?”
“This way.” He released her, and she pulled her dress over her head. Cool air bathed her skin. Then his hands were on her waist, pulling her down to his pole bed.
She fought the urge to gasp as he pressed the length of his body against hers. His skin was warm, the ripples of muscle sliding under her fingers. She rubbed herself against him, sliding her thighs and breasts along his body.
“I have Dreamed this,” he whispered. “Night after night, I have lain with you.”