by Nicole René
“When did you get back?” he asked Tristan, following his movements as he lowered himself to sit beside him. Tristan was Xavier’s brother, and in many ways, they looked similar, but there were subtle differences too. Like how Tristan’s hair was just a shade lighter than Xavier’s and while Xavier kept his long and brushing his shoulders, Tristan’s was shaved on the sides with the remainder of his locks piled on top of his head in a bun. While Tristan’s physic was lither than his brother’s very muscular frame, Tristan and his brother both shared broad shoulders.
“Just now,” Tristan replied, “I couldn’t miss my favorite cousin’s wedding, now could I?”
“Don’t I feel special,” Tyronian said back in response, laughing. “How long will you stay this time?”
His expression didn’t waver at the question, but Tyronian caught the primal glint that flashed in Tristan’s eyes.
During the war of the tribes, Namoriee and Leawyn were kidnapped, but they had managed to escape with the help of a mysterious woman. When the war was over, Leawyn had sent Tristan on a mission to find that woman and thank her. What had started out as a simple request, quickly became an obsession for his cousin. The enigmatic woman always seemed to be a step ahead of Tristan and because of this, his presence within the tribe was scarce.
Tyronian knew that his cousin won’t stop until he’s captured the woman he was so consumed with.
“I leave at dawn.”
His brow arched at his tone. “Well, you sure don’t waste any time.”
Tristan’s response was to grunt, which made Tyronian chuckle. There was companionable silence between them as they watched the final preparations come about. The wedding ceremony would take place at sunset, and then a giant feast would follow immediately after to celebrate.
Though, he hadn’t planned to stay there long. Surprisingly, Tristan was the one to break the silence.
“Will you ever tell her?”
Tyronian’s content expression changed, and he shot an angry look at his cousin. “Why would you bring that up?”
“She deserves to know. You know what you’re giving up by marrying her.”
Tyronian scoffed. “I give up nothing. You know as well as I do that there’s no proof, nor law that deems that so.”
Tristan shook his head in disapproval and met Tyronian’s eyes calmly. “She was brought to us, Tyronian. No one knows where she came from, or who her parents are.”
“I don’t care,” Tyronian said bluntly, clearly annoyed with Tristan’s questioning. “She grew up here, and that’s all that matters. No one knows the truth besides me, you, and Xavier.”
He stood, bushing the dirt and grass off himself. “Now, if you’re done trying to ruin my mood on my wedding day, then maybe we can get ready. I see a bath in your future. You smell.”
Tristan chuckled quietly, but stood up nonetheless. “Suit yourself. But sooner or later, you’ll have to tell her. Because if you don’t, then she’ll find out on her own.”
“She hasn’t so far,” Tyronian pointed out as they started walking. “I don’t plan for that to change.”
Tristan said nothing in response, but Tyronian could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“There,” Leawyn said, stepping back from her with a smile. “You look beautiful.”
Namoriee weakly smiled back, her lips unable to muster the joy in the movement. They were inside of Leawyn's hut, preparing for Namoriee's wedding.
They were alone, Xavier having taken Xillik with him to give them privacy. When Tyronian announced the news to the tribe, everyone had cheered, and the days seemed to fly by as the tribe prepared for another wedding. Usually, when a member of the tribe would want to marry, all that was required was for the tribe elder to say the marriage incantation and to merge blood. But since Tyronian was the Xavier’s cousin, and candidate to take over the tribe should anything happen to Xavier and Tristan, his wedding was a big enough ordeal to receive a mighty celebration.
The whole tribe and their guests would be in attendance to watch Tyronian claimed her as wife, and effectively steal her life away from her.
“You’ll be fine,” Leawyn promised, “Tyronian is a good man.”
She dropped her gaze from Leawyn’s. She knew that Tyronian was a good man—at least compared to the other men in their village who were stoic, fierce warriors. The only thing they showed love to was their horses. Tyronian broke the mold with his easygoing nature and charm. He smiled, and he joked, but underneath that he was still a strong and fierce warrior. Something he proved the day of the warrior choosing when he challenged Cantos, a Siraces warrior, and defeated him.
But even with that knowledge…how can Namoriee tell Leawyn that it wasn’t the actual wedding she was worried about, but of what’s expected after?
Just thinking about it, made Namoriee’s heart race with panic and fear. Leawyn took her in with a keen eye, and then her smile gentled.
“Are you nervous about tonight?” she asked, her eyes glittered with understanding.
“I don’t want to do this,” Namoriee whispered, close to tears. “Why is he making me do this?”
“Our warriors are a different breed of men,” Leawyn sighed, “when they want something, they take it. Tyronian has wanted you for as long as I have known him. The way he looks at you…” Leawyn trailed off, and Namoriee’s heartbeat spiked.
“I knew that there was no way that he would let you go, and I think you did, too.”
Leawyn was right, she did know that Tyronian would claim her. He told her he would, promised even.
Whether you like it, or not.
“I’m not ready,” Namoriee admits to Leawyn. Leawyn’s expression softened, reaching up to brush the tear that slipped from her eyes before she cupped her cheek gently.
“We never are,” Leawyn whispered empathically. “Tyronian is a good man, and he cares about you. I don’t think it will be like…" Leawyn cut off, a faraway look in her eyes.
She didn’t have to finish, though. Namoriee knew that she was talking about her own wedding night, and she could only imagine how terrible that was for her. Leawyn was arranged to marry Xavier when she was eighteen winters. But, unlike Namoriee, she was forced to marry a man who was cold-hearted and cruel. Xavier was known to be the fiercest warrior in all the land. He wasn’t warm, or compassionate, which was the opposite of his wife.
Namoriee had witnessed the start of their relationship, and still to this day, she didn’t understand what made Leawyn stay. Xavier was horrible to Leawyn, and his possessiveness of her was unrivaled. It seemed like he did everything in his power to break Leawyn, but she never crumbled. Though they didn’t start off in love, Namoriee could see the change in Xavier, and in their relationship. He’s more…tamed. Like his soul had found its home.
“How are you?” Namoriee asked in a soft tone, worried.
Leawyn’s eyes flashed with pain, her hands flying up to rest on her stomach that was just starting to show. “I’m fine,” Leawyn smiled, though it still held traces of her pain.
“I don’t think it will be like last time.”
Leawyn and Xavier had been expecting their second child, but sadly, the baby didn't make it through the night.
It was a little girl.
“Enough about me,” Leawyn said abruptly, her smile back, but hiding her lingering pain unsuccessfully. “This is about you. Are you ready?”
Namoriee’s heart sped up and froze all at the same time. No, she wasn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready.
But she didn’t say that.
“I'm ready.”
Namoriee’s heart was hammering in her chest with such intensity, she was afraid that she would pass out.
* * *
She was dressed in the white gown that Leawyn had helped her into earlier, and the light breeze made the strands of her chocolate hair flutter like a butterfly as she walked closer to the man she would spend the rest of her life with. Everyone stared as she passed, but Namoriee paid them no atte
ntion, her gaze focused solely on Tyronian, and the hungered look in his eyes as she drew closer.
* * *
His expression was revered, his eyes taking their time to stroke her body from head to toe in a move that made Namoriee’s body feel hot and cold in synchronously. He took her hand, and she knew he could feel the tremble in them. Giving them a reassuring squeeze, he turned his attention to the village elder, nodding his confirmation for the ceremony to start. As the elder started to speak the ancient script, Namoriee studied him.
* * *
Tribal symbols of marriage were painted down his bare chest, looping over his wide-set shoulders and down his arms, his long blonde hair down and untamed.
* * *
The elder’s movement brought Namoriee out of her inspection and she watched with wide eyes as Tyronian accepted the ceremonial dagger from her withered hand and turned back to look her. His grip became shackles, keeping her from running away from him when she took an involuntary step back.
* * *
They had reached the final part of the marriage ceremony.
* * *
Her entire body started to tremor when he stepped forward, bringing their hands up between them.
* * *
“Relax,” he whispered.
* * *
“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible. “Don’t do this to me.”
* * *
Her only answer was the firm set of his lips and the sound of his skin splitting open when he sliced his palm. She tried to pull back again, her apprehension becoming full-blown panic, but his grip was unrelenting. She cried out in pain when the dagger dragged down her palm, tearing her delicate flesh. She flinched when he pressed their bleeding hands together tightly, intermixing their blood, and sealing their marriage to the Gods.
* * *
She felt nothing.
* * *
Not the blood that trailed down her wrists, or the heat of skin.
* * *
She heard nothing; not the cheers from their guests, or the ringing in her ears.
* * *
She felt nothing.
* * *
She heard nothing.
* * *
She raised her head, and as her eyes met Tyronian’s blues…she saw everything. Their gaze stayed locked as he bowed toward her.
* * *
“Whether you like it, or not,” he whispered the recurring vow he made to her, all those years ago. The glint in his eyes as he said the words right before he kissed her stopped her dead.
* * *
That was the moment she knew.
* * *
Her life will never be the same again.
Namoriee sat, her gaze glued to door of her new hut. If someone were to ask her to relay back every detail of her wedding ceremony, she wouldn’t be able to do it; everything happened in a blur.
She looked down at her hand and lightly traced over the cut that was made by ceremonial dagger. The celebratory feast was still well on its way, but she had been told by her husband to go back to their hut. Part of her felt guilty, because she knew that he could tell she wasn’t doing much celebrating, but, how could she? She didn’t want to be married. Her life was altered by a man she both feared and longed for, with no regard to her freewill.
She tried to think back to the seasons that caused the chain reaction to what her life is now. What day was the point of no return? When did she know, deep in her bones, that Tyronian was serious when he said that he would wed her on the first day of her eighteenth summer?
The signs were all there, Namoriee couldn’t refute that. A noise outside caused her heart to spike, fearing that it was Tyronian. She wasn’t ready for what would entail when he stepped through that door. She didn’t think she would ever be ready.
* * *
Her muscles relaxed when he didn’t appear and she once again, thought back to her sixteen-year old self, and the events that took place to lead up to this moment.
Two winters ago.
Oh, why did she let her Lady talk her into this?
Namoriee stared at the wooden door with no small amount of apprehension, like it was a terrible beast poised to attack and eat her alive.
Because she didn’t—she ordered you to, Namoriee thought to herself.
Tonight, was to be a great feast to welcome all neighborhood tribes that recently poured into their village seemingly overnight. In all her years, she’s never seen all the tribes in one place that wasn’t directly for the warrior games, which happened every five winters. The fact that they were here in the Izayges made it strange. Were the whispers she had heard of late about the tribes going to war, true? Why else would the Siraces and Asori be here?
Which brings her back to her current dilemma:
The feast.
Normally, she would be expected to serve during such celebrations, but Leawyn deemed it not to pass during this feast and insisted that she enjoy it—as a participant.
The thought nearly sent her into a panic attack, which Leawyn noticed and they reached a compromise—very unwillingly on Namoriee’s part—that she would only serve the first half and enjoy the festivities for the second. Then, Leawyn decided that Namoriee would need a dress to wear and insisted (ordered) for her to borrow one of hers.
Which brought her here, staring at Leawyn and Xavier’s door-of-doom.
She sighed.
Her Lady Chief was too kind. But it was because of that, that Namoriee knew that she would wear one, so she did not insult Leawyn and her generosity.
.
Tyronian and Tristan were still chuckling in dark humor as they left the tent holding the now compliant chiefs of Asori and Sicares, when Tyronian suddenly stopped, noticing Namoriee standing in front of Xavier’s door.
"You go ahead cousin," Tyronian said to Tristan, slowing his gait. "I'll catch up with you."
Tristan followed his gaze, seeing Namoriee, he grinned in understanding and turned back to him.
"I'm sure you will." Tristan chuckled, dodging out of the way when Tyronian took a swipe at him and continued his search for his brother, still laughing.
Tyronian crossed his arms, watching as Namoriee glanced around her warily once before she opened the hut's door firmly and went inside. He frowned.
Odd.
He uncrossed his arms and with long, purposeful strides, headed after her. Might as well and see what she was up to.
Namoriee stared around Leawyn's hut, her anxiety mounting. Even though she's been inside multiple times, it felt wrong somehow this time. The tub she had ordered for Leawyn was still in the far corner of the room, and Namoriee made a mental note to have someone remove it before the feast on her way to Leawyn's trunk that held her dresses. Opening it, she glanced down and hesitated.
Even though she knew that Leawyn gave her permission, she was still tentative to choose a dress and wear it. She'll just pick the most unassuming one Leawyn owned.
"What are you doing in here?"
Namoriee yelped, dropping the lid in her surprise with a clang. Whirling around, her heart skipped, seeing Tyronian standing behind her.
"I - I, I wasn't ste- steal—" Namoriee stuttered fearfully, looking to the trunk behind her to Tyronian's gaze. "It's not what it looks like!" she blurted out. He cocked a brow at her, stepping toward her.
"Really?" he drawled, taking another step in her direction. She could see that he seemed to take feral pleasure when she took a step back with each advance he made.
"What exactly does it look like?"
She stumbled backwards, tripping over one of the animal fur rugs as she retreated from Tyronian’s imposing figure. He grinned at Namoriee's alarmed look when she realized that she had backed herself against the wall. He braced both his hands on either side of her head, effectively caging her in.
"You didn't answer my question,” he reminded, dipping his head so that his chin was level with the top of hers, his nose nudged against her hair when he inha
led. He went from the top of her head, downwards, until his lips were level with her ear. His lips brushed against her lobe; Namoriee inhaled sharply at the sensation.
"What are you doing, Namoriee?"
She felt hot all over, and goosebumps broke out across her skin, hearing him say her name in that deep, husky, way.
"Answer me,” he ordered softly, but Namoriee heard the steel in his voice.
"The f-feast tonight." Namoriee stuttered, shivering when Tyronian pulled her hair aside, exposing more of her neck.
"What about the feast?"
"I didn't have anything to w-wear," she managed to say. "Lady Chief said I c-could borrow one of h-hers." Namoriee faltered, her eyes fluttering closed at the brush of Tyronian's lips against her neck. It was feather like, barely touching the skin.
"Why would you need one of Leawyn's dresses?"
When she didn't answer him right away, he pulled back and nudged her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Why?" Tyronian commanded. Namoriee pressed her lips together, not answering. He nudged her chin again, leveling her with a stern look. "Answer me Namoriee. Why would you need to borrow Leawyn's dress?"
"B-because, I don't have any, sir." She whispered in shame. She could feel the heat traveling from her neck upwards to her cheeks in humiliation.