by Denali Day
Smile back.
Joselyn stiffened. Her eyes narrowed as the absurd notion entered her mind. No. She would not encourage him. She was a decent lady. And decent ladies didn’t smile at half-naked men. No matter how appealing.
When the drums finally died back down, the dancers didn’t immediately break off for water like they had before. Most of those who’d been sitting now stood up. Their faces turned in the direction of the cave’s open side. Joselyn straightened as Hollen approached.
“It’s time for the feast, mu hamma,” Hollen said. He stopped just in front of her knees and held a hand down to her. “You must make the sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?” Joselyn looked at Lavinia.
“Yes, mu Saliga. The honor is y-yours tonight.” Lavinia rose and walked toward Soren, who stood waiting in the crowd with an outstretched arm. They, like everyone else, began filing out of the cave into the moonlit snow, torches in hand.
Joselyn stood, ignoring Hollen’s offered arm. “You didn’t mention a sacrifice. What does that even mean?”
Hollen grinned. He snatched her by the hand and tugged her behind him. “It means you’ll slaughter the ram we feast upon.”
Joselyn swallowed and jogged to keep up with Hollen. She shivered as they exited the warmth of the cave and stepped into a layer of freshly fallen snow. The waxing moon above provided a great deal of light, as did the stars that numbered in the millions. Again, she was struck with wonder that her captor, like all his warriors, didn’t seem bothered by the cold. Hollen cut a path for them through the crowd. The clan gathered beneath a stone ledge, possibly ten feet above the sloping ground. The torches glowed, illuminating the area all around in flickering gold.
Joselyn heard lowing before she saw the giant beast being led up to the natural platform. She would have faltered were it not for Hollen’s enthusiastic guidance. The animal was like nothing Joselyn had ever seen. It was the size of a bull, though it had the narrow face and bulging eyes of a mountain goat. Its long white hair hung off its body in thick, wooly locks.
Erik and Magnus walked on either side of the creature with their arms looped in the curve of its winding horns. Magnus seemed to feed off the excited energy of the crowd. He led a song in his father tongue that those around him took up. Erik stroked at the beast’s powerful neck, murmuring something into its twitching ear.
“Hollen, I—” Her voice was drowned out as the rest of Bedmeg joined in the jubilant song. The two of them hurried up the ledge, coming up behind Hollen’s brothers and the creature that was about to feed an entire clan. Joselyn was pulled forward to stand in front of her captor, with her feet but a few inches from the platform’s snowy edge. The faces of those below her were difficult to see behind the glow of their torches.
Hollen laced his left hand in hers and, if only to be certain she wouldn’t stumble off the edge, she returned the squeeze of his fingers.
“People of Bedmeg!” Hollen began, raising his right arm into the night air. “Tonight we put aside old sorrows and celebrate a new beginning!”
The people cheered as he continued, “We welcome into our clan Joselyn Helena Elise Fury.”
Another cry of approval.
Joselyn was beginning to regret telling him her full name. The fact that he’d remembered it in its entirety after only hearing it once was impressive, though she wished he’d stop announcing it at every opportunity. Something about it seemed so official. So dignified. As though her presence here were every bit as legitimate as her marriage to Dante Viridian would have been.
“Tonight Bedmeg will want for nothing. Tonight we are whole. We have our Saliga!” Hollen thrust her hand up with his as those below shouted their pride.
“Mu Saliga!”
Joselyn stood tall. If there was one thing she was accustomed to, it was public scrutiny. She’d been the subject of both social and political attention since before she could remember. She inclined her chin. If these people would not help Joselyn of House Fury, perhaps they would acquiesce to Joselyn of Bedmeg.
Hollen released her hand, and she turned to see Magnus passing him a long, curved blade. Joselyn’s gaze fell upon the giant ram. Puffs of smoke poured from its nostrils. Its ears moved back and forth at the commotion all around it. A pang of sympathy welled up inside Joselyn, quickly replaced by a stab of adrenaline as Hollen put the blade in her hand.
Hollen guided her to stand before him at the creature’s shoulder. He took Magnus’s place at the horn and held the creature’s massive head steady.
“First push into his neck, mu hamma. Then pull back quickly.”
Joselyn stood there. She looked at the blade in her hand as she made up her mind. She’d never killed an animal before. She’d never killed anything at all. She glanced at the gathered crowd. What sort of message would she be sending if she shrank from what these people considered to be an honor?
You wanted to hunt someday. This is no different. At least you’re not chasing the poor thing first. Get a grip, Joselyn.
She brought the blade up, aligning it with the creature’s wooly neck. She would have to put a great deal of force behind the stroke. Thankfully, the handle was long, which allowed her to use a second fist to steady the trembling edge. Perhaps sensing her fear, the ram nickered and reared its horned head. Joselyn jumped.
Hollen and Erik firmed their grip to hold him still. “Hurry Joselyn. Don’t prolong his fate.”
Swallowing hard, Joselyn realigned the razor edge. Drawing a breath, she pushed out any thoughts of sympathy for the doomed animal and sank her weight into the bulk of its tensing muscle.
The creature howled. Instinct made her jerk the knife away. A fan of blood sprayed as she drew it backward. Warm iron mist filled Joselyn’s nares as the beast buckled first to its front knees and then to its rear. The animal’s weight tore the knife from her hand as it fell to the snow. All around, the people cheered.
Joselyn brought a bloody hand up to her lips. Her stomach turned over.
Run. Hide.
She darted back, but barely made it to the creature’s rump. Joselyn had indulged in not a drop of wine that night. And yet, somehow, she was the first to retch.
12
A Wild Night
Hollen grimaced as his bride heaved the contents of her stomach into the snow behind the fallen ram’s body. He released the fallen animal’s horn. The clamor of the crowd remained deafening. Most weren’t able to see why their Saliga had bolted.
“Joselyn?” Hollen put a hand on her back. She stiffened and pulled away from his touch. Still hunching over, she glanced backward at the cheering crowd. Hollen followed her gaze.
She’s afraid they saw her sicking herself. Help her.
Hollen pulled her up by the shoulders and shuffled her off the back of the ledge, away from the clan. He nodded over his shoulder to Magnus. His brother nodded back and, picking up the fallen blade, began butchering the ram. The people cried their anticipation for the feast to come.
His bride held the back of her hand over her mouth, as though trying to avoid another bout of nausea. Her dress was covered in blood, as was her mouth from touching her face. She would want to change. Fast. At least her dress was already dyed red.
“Come.” He ushered Joselyn up the sloping ravine until they were back in the warmth of the empty cave. The quiet set his ears to ringing after the past hour of celebration.
“They saw,” Joselyn said, her jaw tight. She wasn’t looking at him. Instead her gaze was fixed on the ground to her side. She was still panting. From fatigue or unease?
He stopped them by a bench at the back of the cave. “Only a few saw. And it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. Guilt squeezed in his chest. He should have better prepared her. He was an idiot. He dropped his head low, putting himself in her line of vision. “Some Dokiri hammas are sick for weeks after arriving on the mountain. If they ask what is the matter, that’s what we’ll tell them.”
Josely
n raised a brow at him. A blood-soaked strand of hair dangled in front of her freckled cheeks, and Hollen felt a sudden urge to brush it behind her ear. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to resist.
Don’t. You’ll remind her she’s covered in blood.
His bride was a woman who cared about appearances, especially, he’d noticed, in front of the clan. And why not? She was Saliga. Proud. It was her prerogative, her duty to present herself well. It reflected on all of Bedmeg. It’d been years, and Hollen still hadn’t grown comfortable with that constant scrutiny of leadership. His bride was a step ahead of him in that regard.
“You did so well, mu hamma. You didn’t shrink away and your stroke was clean. Did you hear how the crowd praised you?”
Joselyn broke her gaze. She went to wipe the blood from her mouth, but scowled at the crimson soiling the white sleeve of her under-shift.
“Wait here,” he said.
He left her in the common area and sprinted up the winding pathway that led to their bok. Hollen returned with her comb and a set of clean clothes folded in his arms. Joselyn’s brow rose in surprise.
“Come.” He led her deeper into the cave. She followed, breaking off in the direction of the women’s springs.
“No, this way.” He jerked his head in the direction of a different tunnel.
Joselyn’s lips parted. She looked from the women’s springs to the unknown path. “Where does that lead?”
“Come with me and find out.” Hollen grabbed a torch to light his way.
Behind him, Joselyn muttered under her breath, “Come here. Come there. Come do this. Come do that.”
Hollen couldn’t resist. “I could just tell you to come, and leave it at that if you prefer.”
“You don’t need to command me for every little thing, you know. I can be accommodating all on my own.”
I’ll bet you can.
He coughed to cover his laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”
For now.
Her soft footfalls followed. He smiled to himself, glad that, for once, she hadn’t argued with him. They walked in silence as Hollen thought of his wife’s extreme reaction to slaughtering the ram. Everything, from the grace of her gait to her inability to start a fire, indicated she was gently bred. Still, a sacrifice shouldn’t have shaken her so. He glanced over his shoulder.
“I thought you said you liked to hunt.” His voice echoed down the smooth stone walls as they went.
“I conceded that I have some skill with a bow.” Joselyn’s tone was defensive.
“You’re a woman. What use is a bow to you if not for hunting?”
“Sport.”
“Sport?” Hollen tested the unfamiliar word. He stopped, turning to give her his full attention. “What is sport?”
Joselyn stared at him with disbelief in her eyes. “When you do something for fun, just to prove that you can.”
Hollen’s gaze strayed to the wall of the tunnel. What was his bride talking about?
She spoke slowly, as though she’d never had to explain such a thing. “Like . . .how your boys wrestle each other, despite having no quarrel?”
Understanding struck. He turned and continued down the tunnel. “Our boys will be warriors one day. What you call sport we would call training. What’s the point of learning the bow if you never intend to use it for anything useful?”
An indignant edge laced her words. “I had intended to go hunting at some point.”
“So why didn’t you?” Hollen jumped down a ledge. Though his hands were full, he held a steadying elbow out to her. His skin tingled where she touched him, as it did any time his bride touched him, for any reason.
Joselyn was silent another moment as they advanced. “I had more important things to concern myself with.”
“Shall I not take you hunting then?” Hollen turned backward and arched a brow at Joselyn. “Who knows? A few more years of convincing, and maybe one of my riders will finally agree to take you home.”
Not bloody likely.
Her eyes sparked, and Hollen had the sense that half a dozen scathing remarks were hanging off the edge of her tongue.
Always ready to do battle. It’s too bad for you I have things you want.
He intended to give her every one of them. Even those she didn’t realize she wanted. Yet.
In the end, her gaze dropped to the ground as though she were ashamed. Her voice came out in a mutter. “I would like to go hunting.”
Hollen grinned. He hadn’t misread her. Her face had brightened when he’d made the offer three days ago. It was the first thing she’d seemed genuinely pleased about since he claimed her. Still, her comment about having better things to do gave him pause. Something about the subject made his bride uncomfortable. Better to discuss it later, when she wasn’t covered in the stench of her own bile.
“If you’re well tomorrow, I’ll take you with me to hunt.” His voice lowered. “Forgive me, mu hamma.”
She frowned. “For what?”
“If I had known before, I wouldn’t have pressed you to make the sacrifice.” Hollen’s stomach hardened as he remembered her expression after vomiting.
Joselyn’s face softened. She clasped her hands in front of herself, looking downward. Hollen looked down too, waiting for a response.
Finally, Joselyn gave him a single nod. Relief swept through him. They continued down the stone path.
After a while, the sound of rushing water reached them. The ground beneath them grew slick with moisture. They passed several natural openings to one side or the other of the tunnel they were traveling through. Hollen glanced back. Joselyn was peeking into the open spaces. Her eyes squinted in the darkness.
“They are springs. Some of them are hot. Others are cool. But they are much smaller than the ones you’ve been to.”
“What’s that noise?” Joselyn asked.
“The water pours from the ceiling in some of the alcoves.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I thought you would like to be alone. And there are enough private pools for you to bathe in peace.”
He stopped them in front of one of the openings. The sound of splashing echoed from within. Though small, it was one of the warmer pools, and it contained a stream of falling water that he imagined would make it easier to wash the blood from her hair. Hollen began hanging the fresh clothing on hooks at the entrance which had been hammered into the stone. He turned. Joselyn was watching him. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Go inside, mu hamma. I will wait here.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sure I can make it back on my own.”
“Yes.” Hollen said. “But I’ll stay all the same. I want to make sure no one else comes down here.”
“Who else bathes in this place?” She looked back in the direction they had come.
“Couples, mostly.”
Joselyn’s head snapped toward him at that. He’d spoken truthfully. While the larger springs were segregated between the sexes, these springs were most typically used by those seeking a private interlude.
“Wha-what if someone thinks we’re down here having . . .that we’re . . .”
“Yes?” He just stifled the urge to grin.
She glared at him, her cheeks going red. “Nevermind.”
Oh, if only he could keep teasing her. Hollen resisted. Barely. He’d learned by now that Joselyn was profoundly modest. She’d still been insisting that he leave their bok entirely so that she might change into a sleeping gown. Hollen might have argued except she’d already proven that if he refused, she would simply sleep in her long-sleeved under-shift as she had her first night.
Even now, coming down here with her, he was pressing against the boundaries of his bride’s comfort. Yet the need to prove himself demanded he give her this opportunity to trust him. Joselyn opened her mouth to speak. Hollen beat her to it.
“I don’t think anyone else will be here for several more hours. Take your time. W
e’ll rejoin the clan when you’re ready.” With that, Hollen pressed his back against the tunnel wall, facing away from the private alcove. Torch still in hand, he crossed his arms over his chest and made himself comfortable.
In the corner of his eye, Joselyn’s mouth hung open. After a few seconds, she clamped it shut and peered into the darkened space. Hollen brushed at a bit of dirt on his arm.
Joselyn turned back to face him. Here comes the argument.
“Thank you.”
His stomach fluttered. Keeping his eyes fixed on the tunnel wall ahead of him, he gave a curt nod as she stepped into the alcove. When she was out of sight, he allowed himself to smile.
When they re-entered the common area, the air hung heavy with the heady scent of roasted mutton. Joselyn touched a hand to her belly, willing herself not to think of the gruesome spectacle she’d participated in. Could she have imagined a more disastrous outcome than emptying the contents of her stomach in front of the same people she was trying to inspire respect from? Hollen claimed only a few had witnessed her shame. As they rejoined the throng of celebrating clansmen, she prayed he’d spoken truly.
There was no music in the cave, but it buzzed with excitement as hungry Dokiri men and women picked the roasted carcass of the slaughtered ram clean. Hollen directed Joselyn to sit where she’d been before and then left to retrieve a portion of the feast for them.
Joselyn sat tall and scanned the faces around her, searching for signs of pity or contempt. Her gaze fell upon Lavinia and Rosemary across the cave, who smiled and raised their hands in greeting. She returned the gesture with a relieved smile.
Joselyn sighed as she smoothed a hand down the length of her damp braid. She’d surprised herself by taking her time bathing. When she’d exited the alcove, the heat of the water had flushed her skin into a pink glow, and her captor stood exactly where she had left him, his eyes closed in peaceful meditation. Irritation gnawed even as a wave of gratitude welled in her chest, a chest still healing from the savage’s handiwork.