Warmaidens

by Kelly Coon

  Her eyes glistened. “And I’ll miss you, too. All of you.”

  Iltani hauled us both to our feet, her warm brown eyes glassy, a smirk on her dimpled face. “You know what I don’t miss? Our old rotten city of Alu. That pisspot. Coming here was the best decision I’ve ever made and praise be to Selu—I mean, Linaza—for that. I was a rat in that city. Here, I’m happy and feast like the goddess I am.”

  “Iltani, you wouldn’t drink yourself into a stupor every night if you were happy.”

  “Spoken like a woman who can’t hold her brew.” Iltani’s eyes dimmed for a moment before she tossed back the rest of her drink. “I couldn’t be happier to leave the stink of Alu behind.”

  “Liar,” Nanaea said, shrugging out of her sweaty clothes.

  She wiped herself down, and pulled on a tunic as blue as a summer sky, one that matched my ummum’s shawl tucked around her elbows. Stooping to eyeball herself critically in the looking glass, she smeared a dab of red on her lips, and topped it all off with a copper circlet on her shiny black hair.

  “Now, that is the fastest I have ever made myself look presentable, so I expect your gratitude, Simti.”

  Nanaea approached, enveloping all of us in the scent of her rose oil. She draped one arm around my shoulders, and another around Simti, pulling the four of us into a tight, humid huddle.

  “My family, this is a day to be joyful. We’ve certainly earned it.”

  We all squeezed one another, tears sparking in our eyes, connecting as friends who’ve found sisters outside of blood can. As sisters who have escaped death a time or two can. All we were missing was Arwia, who was no doubt somewhere outside the tent, making sure everything was perfect for Simti.

  Savoring our sisterhood, I smiled at each one in turn. Our climb from the tomb was wasted—wasted—if a young woman struggling to heal wouldn’t leave my thoughts long enough to enjoy this night. After a moment, I kissed Nanaea’s cheek.

  “You’re absolutely right, Nanaea. Let’s go to a wedding and celebrate.”

  We all cheered and went in for another hug, squealing and dancing around in a circle. My heart beat with butterfly’s wings, certain I might burst from nerves or happiness or both.

  “Come on!” Kasha held open the flaps of the tent, so we followed him into the dusk, toward a wedding that would be filled with love and promise and joy.

  To be followed by a life of more of the same.

  * * *

  The sun dipped low, hovering above the horizon, casting a pink glow over the olive grove. Tents dotted the courtyard, ringed by torches scented with frankincense. Wooden tables full of Manzazu food—syrupy fruits, fish poached in oil, fire-roasted vegetables—were nestled inside each.

  People sipped chilled sweetwine, and swayed to the lyres on either side of the path that led to the dais where the ceremony would take place. Kasha horsed around with a group of boys poking each other and making googly eyes. Dagan stood in the center of the platform with Ilu, Simti’s bridegroom. He and his parents had become a sort of family to us, and we were repaying the favor by standing up in support of their union.

  My heart thrumming madly, I lined up with Nanaea, Iltani, Simti, while we all whispered encouragement and final instructions to one another as the musicians played.

  Simti, the bride, was first. She beamed as she turned toward her husband-to-be and began to dance down the narrow path toward him. Her red tunic flowed over her curves as she clapped her hands and swayed. The crowd tossed flower petals into the air and knocked their cups together to toast her health.

  Nanaea went next, gracefully twisting and whirling to the rhythm, until she reached the platform and climbed the stairs to join Simti. Iltani downed the rest of her sweetwine and gyrated down the aisle after her, wobbly on her bare feet, doing her own version of Nanaea’s dance with much less grace and a lot more leg.

  The smoke from the lit torches choked me as I squared my shoulders and stared down the aisle. The thought of dancing even a little bit in front of a crowd made me feel as naked as a freshly plucked bird. I was not graceful. Not by anyone’s definition of the word. But I took a deep breath and swayed down the aisle as best as I could, my cheeks flaming hot up to my ears. When I reached the dais, Dagan reached for me with a calloused hand, worn from the mattock and plow, and the warmth of his palm pressed to mine made me forget all about my embarrassment.

  As I stepped up, he pulled me close and kissed my forehead.

  “You are stunning, Oh Great Dancing A-zu.” He grinned.

  “Stop it. That was the clumsiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.” I blushed. “You are stunning, too, of course.”

  I took in his handsome features. The divot above his lip that made it impossible not to kiss him. The rough smudge of beard on his jaw, now beginning to thicken. The black eyebrows that framed his dark lashes so well. My love. My heart swelled. We’d made each other happy here in Manzazu.

  Dagan wrapped an arm around me. He bent down, his lips against my ear. “My sweet, you’re not nervous, are you?”

  “About Simti? No. Why would I be?”

  I looked at him, and the earnestness in his amber eyes made me squirm. He ran a finger down my chin, but pressed his lips together. Tight. Took a deep breath.

  “Because,” he started, his words tumbling out of his mouth quickly, “these last moons have been the best of my life. Living underneath one roof with you and everyone else. Caring for all of us together has brought me the greatest joy I’ve ever had.” He tapped his fingers on my arm.

  “Dagan, they’re about to start. What is it?” I whispered, my eyes on the priestess ascending the platform, a ceremonial bowl of sweetwine in her weathered hands.

  He cleared his throat. “What I am saying to you is—”

  “Will the bride and groom step forward, please?” The priestess nodded to Simti and Ilu.

  “Later,” I whispered to him.

  “Okay.” A nervous smile flitted across Dagan’s face as he looked at Ilu across the platform. Ilu flashed him a wink as Simti stepped forward, a dazzling smile on her face to meet him in front of the priestess.

  Dagan and I joined hands with Nanaea and Iltani and closed the circle around them both as Ilu draped a bride-price necklace around Simti’s neck. Ilu’s mother dabbed at her eyes, and mine filled, too. We’d be losing her from our home this night. We’d spent so many evenings together, cooking, laughing, building a new life free from the threat of Alu’s terrifying customs. It was tough to let her go. But Simti and Ilu had fallen deeply, wildly in love within a moon of our arrival, so how could we not agree?

  I raised my hand linked with Dagan’s and we all sang a collective praise to Linaza for joining these two. The priestess poured the honied drink on Ilu’s tongue, then Simti’s, so their words to one another would be sweet for the rest of their days.

  When Ilu bent to kiss Simti and she wound her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, the priestess declared them wed. As the crowd cheered for their union, Dagan looked at me with such heat in his eyes, what he’d been trying to say before the ceremony was suddenly as clear as the river on a hot summer day.

  He’d been trying to ask me to marry him.

  He wanted this moment on the dais for us.

  TWO HOURS LATER, the wedding had exploded in celebration. The musicians pounded their drums and strummed their lyres with flashing hands. Nanaea was dragged to dance by nearly half the men of the city, and Iltani played game after game of twenty squares, taking everyone’s coins right out of their purses.

  Sandals kicked off near the gambling tables, curly hair bouncing, Kasha danced with a group of boys. I spied a table with platters of fruits and eased myself down in front of it as I watched him play. Back in Alu, he’d been taken from us and had been forced to live in the Palace to replace the lugal’s son. But now he could just be a boy.

&nb
sp; And though he could be carefree, I could not.

  Swiping a handful of grapes, I popped them into my mouth and surveyed the rest of the crowd, my thoughts straying to Mirrum.

  I’d left her for far too long.

  I looked at the full moon shining overhead as I forced myself to swallow. A half an hour more. That was as long as I could possibly stay. A tug in the center of my chest connected me to her as though she were an anchor and I was the boat.

  “There you are, Favored Dancing A-zu of the North.” Dagan ducked around the tent’s flaps. “May I have the honor of your presence?” He bowed graciously, arms wide like Linaza’s wings, and I smiled at his attempt at the Manzazu tradition.

  “You may, Oh Great Farmer of the Fields.”

  He laughed, and I placed a hand over my heart, grinning at our game. He made me happy, and had, for a long time.

  Dagan settled in and grabbed some grapes from the platter, and we talked about the wedding. I grew more relaxed, less worried, the more we talked. I studied his broad shoulders as he leaned back on his elbows. Watched his mouth move as he popped the grapes in one by one and chewed. He caught me studying him, and the air around us shifted. I could smell the faintest touch of Aleppo soap on his skin. See the reflection of the torchlight shining in his eyes. Suddenly, what he’d been trying to say before the ceremony became a candle flickering between us, bright and hot.

  “What are you thinking about, Arammu?” He nudged me with his knee.

  So he’d play this game. Get me to bring everything up before he would. It was his favorite way to talk about something he wasn’t sure I was ready to discuss. I dodged the question with a distraction.

  “Mirrum. Kasha and Nanaea. And…kissing you.”

  He shrugged casually, but his eyes tightened at the corners. “That doesn’t have to be a thought, you know. I am, after all, sitting right here.” He opened his arms, a challenge in his eyes. An attempt to call my bluff.

  But it was no bluff. A flush moving up my neck, I slowly leaned over, keeping my eyes on his, and kissed him. It was soft, at first. But just like always, our kiss deepened, and within a few moments, it grew feverish.

  All thoughts of Mirrum, Kasha, Nanaea, the rest of my responsibilities, melted away as he grabbed my hips and tugged me onto his lap. The air buzzed with nothing but him as he slid his hands up my sides, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. After several moments of his warm mouth on mine, my body pressing against him—closer, closer—I broke away, breathless.

  “Arammu,” he whispered. His breath was ragged on my cheek. “Let’s not play these games. You know I love you with everything in me. And that I would not fail you. Not ever.”

  He cupped my face in his hands. Kissed my forehead, both cheeks. My lips.

  He’d ask the question. My heart pounded as I held on to his wrists for dear life. What did I want? A life with him? Surely. But I already had one, no wedding required, though I’d yet to lie in his embrace.

  The thought heated me from chest to cheek.

  “And I love you, too,” I answered, breathless, as he kissed me again. And again.

  “Then—”

  “A-zu?”

  A throat clearing and a jangling of weaponry brought my eyes up to two fierce Koru warriors: Commander Ummi and a tall, lean woman with sinewy muscles named Humusi. They stood purposefully outside the tent, knowing eyes fixed on Dagan and me.

  I scrambled off his lap, adjusting my tunic, a flush spreading hot up into my hairline.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Ummi’s sparkling eyes made her look younger than she was. But I’d witnessed her deft use of a battle-ax in the throwing fields. She was no child.

  “It’s not a worry.” My voice squeaked at the end.

  “Sarratum Tabni asked us to stop by to see if you were well.”

  I sighed. The honor of the scorpion necklace was one thing. This checking up on me constantly was something else. They’d been following me since that night, stationing themselves outside our little home, accompanying me into the Libbu. “You mean to protect me? I told you before that I don’t need it. What harm could come to a healer in this city?”

  Ummi straightened her boxy frame, her armored tunic chinking against her breastplate. “My orders come from my lady, so if she tells me to protect you and Arwia and anyone else, I will.”

  Arwia had been taken under Sarratum Tabni’s wing when we arrived, her mother being a former childhood friend. In fact, the queen had invited her to stay at the Palace, but Arwia had said she’d prefer to live with us. Sarratum Tabni had disapproved. Said it was her duty to protect the rightful queen of Alu and her friends, but I often wondered why she was so intent on it.

  “I am very well, I can assure you.” I flushed, looking back at Dagan. “Thank you both.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “It appears to be so. Please let us know if that changes.” Ummi turned and squinted at some noisy revelers. “Come, Humusi. We’re not needed here. And it appears we’ve a situation to attend to.” Ummi flashed a smile, exposing rows of gapped teeth, and they marched quickly away. People cleared a path as they wended through the crowd toward the commotion.

  These women had given up every possibility of marriage and children to be Koru warriors, the most elite fighters in service to the sarratum. In fact, I’d witnessed one warrior removed from the Koru altogether for being caught in a man’s bed. The commitment had to be absolute, nothing to muddle their minds.

  Yet tradition said I was supposed to marry. I was a young, orphaned girl with no father to put food in my stomach and clothes on my back, even though I was managing well enough on my own with my friends. But tradition also said if I did marry, my husband would be my legal guardian. He could make decisions for me. If we ever stood before a judge, he would speak for me. It was hard for me to think of entering a marriage where we wouldn’t be seen by the law as equals. He could, under the law, take everything I owned and cast me out. I couldn’t do the same. The power would not be mine as a woman.

  When I was young, a man had once exercised his power with his wife, Zuzu. He’d said she was stealing the family money to squander it away. She said she was simply purchasing goods their family would need. He took her in front of Lugal Marus and had washed his hands of her. She ended up down by the well, begging for food while he remarried and another woman raised her children.

  But Dagan would never do something like that, even though he could.

  He was always kind, and worked hard for us. He’d been transforming the ragged patch of weeds behind our home into a plot flush with barley, which was nearing harvest any day. He’d been wanting to introduce the crop to this city, and had even told me of plans to take it to more cities in the north. Expand on it. Build a big, booming, prosperous business.

  What if Dagan made good on his desires to move away from Manzazu? I was excited for him and wanted him to succeed, but if he left, that would mean I’d have to abandon the healing practice I’d been trying to build. What of my ill patients? Mirrum? Could I possibly give up everything simply for a tradition?

  But Dagan’s finger running down the back of my arm filled me with a low, deep longing, my body a traitor to my thoughts. Lying with him was getting more and more difficult not to do, but I didn’t want my body to make a promise my brain hadn’t yet decided. Iltani lay with whomever she pleased, and that was fine for her, though I’d begged her repeatedly to be careful. But for me? I knew what it would mean to Dagan. I swallowed as he softly played with the curls hanging down my back.

  “My sweet? Will you look at me? You were lost in your thoughts again.”

  Outside the tent, Nanaea danced in the center of the crowd, her hair falling down to her waist, bouncing and swaying. She tipped back a flagon of brew, drinking deeply, then spluttered with laughter as a young man spun her around. How happy she could be while my insides were perp
etually knotted like a rope. Beyond her, Simti and Ilu danced on the dais, their arms wrapped around one another, lost to the romance of the night.

  I turned to look at his earnest, handsome face. A face with lips I’d kissed a thousand times and wanted to kiss a thousand more. I ran my hands over his warm shoulders. “I’m right here.”

  He took my hands in his. Kissed each one, then brought his amber eyes to mine. There was longing there. Hope. And at the back end, a little bit of fear.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  Pinpricks covered my body. Nerves or excitement? Both?

  “Will you let me make you as happy as Simti is this night?” His breath came fast. He licked his lips, his eyes pleading. “Be my bride, Kammani, Healer of Manzazu. Be my wife. And let me spend the rest of my life showing you how much of my heart you really hold.”

  My stomach flipped as my heart pounded. “But…what of my healing practice?”

  His eyes grew confused. “Your…healing practice?”

  “What if you want to go to the north to expand your crop and all of my work is here? I couldn’t leave my patients.”

  Understanding filled his eyes. “Ah. Well, we could make an arrangement, could we not?”

  “I wouldn’t sacrifice what I’ve built, Dagan.” I ran a finger down his cheek. “My work is too precious to me.”

  “But couldn’t you establish a new practice if it meant I could better provide for a family? There is great opportunity in the north.”

  “No! I wouldn’t want to do that just for better trade. Not until I’d helped as many people as I could in this city. Or…or…trained an apprentice or something.”

  “Well, marriage means we’d have to compromise. At least a little.”

  “But what if I don’t want to compromise? By law, you could force me to!”