“How did you get in here?” she whispered.
He began to stroke her hair. “Not sure why Darrien thought it a good idea to take so many of us. The more tiams there are, the stronger we become.”
“And the weaker our clans,” she responded.
He paused for a moment. “How so?”
She took another long drink. “We’re hostages. Our clans won’t attack when their daughter’s lives are at stake.”
Rone grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’ve dried blood on your cheek.” He pulled his sleeve over his hand, dribbled a little water on it, and began wiping the corner of her mouth. As he worked, he kept glaring at the attic door, as if he’d like nothing more than to sneak down there, find Darrien, and put a knife in his heart. A part of her longed for him to do just that.
“I didn’t even find out you were up here until today. Why didn’t you call for me when he took you from the others?” Rone asked.
She heard the accusation in his voice. There was hurt, too, but she didn’t understand why. “You know why,” she said. She winced at his scrubbing and pressed her hand over his to keep it still. He paused and left his hand on her cheek. It felt good to lie there like this with him. Too good. A sister wouldn’t have these kinds of thoughts.
Embarrassed, she pushed back. Rone watched her before looking away. Slowly, she worked her stiff jaw. It was swollen and no doubt bruised.
He handed her a cloth-wrapped package. “Mother worried they weren’t letting you eat again.”
Ilyenna pulled back the rag to find a few chunks of bread and smoked ham. She shoved some bread into her mouth and chewed as quickly as her sore jaw could bear.
Rone chuckled. “I guess Mother was right.”
Ilyenna guzzled more water. “My clanwomen?”
He sighed and looked away. “The Shyle are strong. They’ll survive.” He surveyed her. “How was your seventh day?”
Her frantic chewing slowed. Had it really only been seven days since Darrien had taken her? It was a sobering thought. She wanted to confide her fears to Rone. But what could she tell him? That Darrien would push her until she broke? That she could already see fractures in her resolve? That marrying him didn’t seem half so bad as starving to death? If she told Rone any of that, he’d do something stupid and get them all killed. She swallowed. “What happens if a tiam runs, Rone?”
His gaze swung to the chink in the river stones. She waited for him to reprimand her lack of honor, to tell her to hold fast to courage. “You know what happens. Every clanman takes to his horse and they bring out the dogs. Then they bring the tiam back. But the Tyrans don’t stop there. If it’s a man, they’ve the right to kill them then and there. If it’s a woman, she loses all her rights.” He paused. “The Tyrans will pass her around before selling her to foreigners as a slave.”
The food she’d eaten rose in her throat. Rone passed her the waterskin. She drank noisily and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He handed her a hollowed-out knot of wood with a cloth tied over it. “Mother mixed the witch hazel with some lanolin she pilfered from the kitchen. If you like, I could help you put it on.”
Ilyenna studied him for a moment before turning and pulling back her hair.
“I’m sorry my hands are so rough,” he said as he began rubbing the balm on her back. She clenched her teeth, expecting pain. But everywhere he touched seemed to sigh in relief. She found herself longing for his hands to stray from her back. She held very still, forcing herself not to think about it. They were already in enough danger.
When Rone had finished, he gathered up the rag but left the little bowl. “How long will Darrien make you stay here?”
Ilyenna shrugged helplessly.
Rone looked away. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring you a blanket. I’ll get you one.”
“I’m all right,” she replied. “I haven’t been cold.”
He studied her disbelievingly before getting to his feet. “I’ll figure out how to bring one before night comes.”
She could see it in his eyes. He planned on coming every evening to check on her until Darrien let her go. She understood the risk he was taking. If she were half as honorable as she’d like to think, she’d protest. But she couldn’t bring herself to. If she didn’t have something or someone to hold onto, she might go insane or worse.
She watched Rone climb down the ladder, the ghost of his touch still thick on her skin. Did he take care of her simply because he had adopted her into the Argon clan, or was there something more? She wanted more. She had for a long time, but he still thought of her as a little sister. And he probably always would.
10. Summer Queen
Footsteps sounded in Darrien’s room and up the ladder. Shuddering violently, Ilyenna drew her knees under her and waited. Bennis threw open the attic door and shot her a look of contempt. “Metha has twice the load of dishes for you to wash today.” She tromped back down the ladder and left.
Ilyenna nearly collapsed in relief. As brave as she tried to be, whenever she heard Darrien below, terror’s cold fingers danced up her spine. Glancing down the ladder, she saw the gray light of dawn touching Darrien’s array of hunting trophies. But other than their long-dead corpses and the bed, the room was empty.
With her bruised leg throbbing and cramping, she climbed down the ladder. When she reached the bottom, she slowly stretched to her full height. Her body trembled as she made her legs support her weight. It had been two and a half days since she’d stood straight. But at least her back itched more than it hurt. She limped toward the door and made her way down to the kitchen.
Inside, Metha was kneading the small of her back with her fists. She sighed heavily and lifted the weight of her stomach.
Ilyenna’s eyes widened. Metha wasn’t just large. She was with child. Oh, she was still plenty plump, but Ilyenna now noted how puffy her face and hands were, no doubt made worse by working in the hot kitchen.
Keeping her gaze averted, Ilyenna strode to the basket of dishes and walked out the door before the woman had a chance to berate her. The movement worked her blood, warming the ache in her leg.
At the stream, she knelt on the mossy bank, the water soaking her knees. Ripping off a bit of the moss, she held it to her jaw, grunting as the pressure made the ache momentarily worse. She cupped her hands and brought water to her mouth. The water slipped through her fingers, wetting the front of her overdress.
She drank until she couldn’t hold any more. Then she just sat, not caring about chores or Metha. In the silence, Ilyenna thought she heard a song, the sound soft and gentle. The breeze seemed to carry the song over and around her. Then, strangely, the wind carried bits of leaves that must have been clinging to the trees and swirled them around the branches and across the muddy earth.
Ilyenna stared. Leaves of every shape and size were flying instead of falling. She lurched to her feet and squinted. Only then did she see them—wings attached to lithe bodies. Tiny legs instead of a single stem. Hundreds of summer fairies flitted around Ilyenna. Most were differing shades of green, but some were flowers. A few looked like animals, with furry wings or fangs. Ilyenna even caught site of one with antlers.
Unease pricked her scalp. She looked for the apple blossom fairy, but couldn’t make her out. “Jablana?”
The fairies froze, staring at her. Then, moving as one body, they all turned and flew away.
Ilyenna reached for them. “No, don’t go! Please.” But they were gone, leaving her alone again. An ache reawakened in Ilyenna’s soul. She folded her hands across her chest, instinctively trying to curl away from the pain. But it was inside her, and she couldn’t get away.
“I am told you are Ilyenna.” said a voice as sweet as honey.
Ilyenna whirled around. A shadowy form peered at her from behind a tree. A woman stepped into the light, but the shadow seemed to stick to her skin. She smiled, revealing teeth as white as pure snow. Her short black hair made swirling patterns about her regal head.
Sunlight, warm summer winds, and the smell of damp earth seemed to radiate from her, enveloping Ilyenna. The woman was as beautiful and intoxicating as the spring air filled with the scent of lilacs.
Ilyenna’s breath snagged in her throat. Just as she felt the winter fairies even when they were far away, just as she could see through the fairy’s glamour, she knew this was the summer queen. Unable to stop herself, Ilyenna reached out and touched the woman. Her skin was as warm as sun-baked rock.
To Ilyenna’s surprise, the darkness didn’t rub off. She remembered stories her brother had told her as a child—stories she’d long ago stopped believing in—about a race of people with skin as dark as charcoal. They lived far to the south, so far that no one knew if the rumors were real or stories. “You’re a Luathan,” she breathed.
“You would call me Leto.” She slowly circled Ilyenna, her gaze lingering on her bruised, blistered back. “And you are one of the clanwomen of the north. If I’m not mistaken, you also have some of the blood of the Highmen.”
Leto drifted around the clearing, stopping now and again to touch a leaf or to press her hands against the rough bark of a tree. Every plant she touched grew fatter. Blossoms opened. “Winter is over now,” she said to Ilyenna. “Did you know? Even in your high mountains, buds are forming on the trees, and crocus blossoms peek through the snow.”