Warmaidens

by Kelly Coon

  But that wasn’t what I wanted at all. It wasn’t what my heart told me to do. I’d spent the last few years pushing him away, setting him aside. Not realizing how much goodness I had when he looked at me and whispered my name.

  We were alive. I wouldn’t waste one more precious second of that gift with doubt.

  So right before he reached the gate to leave, I walked to him in two quick strides and slipped my hand into his. He looked at me, a question in his warm eyes, and I pulled him close, wrapping his big arms around my waist. On my tiptoes, I wound my arms around his neck, pressing my chest, my hips, against his. I didn’t care that I was bloody. I didn’t care that I was covered in sweat and stink and dirt and horror. None of it mattered.

  He mattered.

  “No.” I kissed him on his lips. Once. Twice. Then again, longer, my mouth moving against his with all the heat I had inside.

  “Don’t go,” I murmured. My voice held a quaver, my nerves bubbling through my bravado. “Stay with me.”

  But more than anything else in my life in that moment, I was sure.

  More than anything.

  He blushed red all the way to his ears.

  But he did.

  Six moons later

  A BRIDE ALWAYS felt nervous on her wedding day.

  Or so I’d once heard.

  But since I wasn’t technically a bride—no father giving me away, no dowry paid, no bride price offered, no tradition followed at all—I shouldn’t have been nervous.

  Nevertheless, my stomach flitted with butterflies.

  The ceremony we had agreed to, a simple meeting of minds, a promise to be united as one without the technicality of an actual marriage, settled my nerves. Though Arwia had said she’d revoke any laws that gave husbands power over their wives, her new council—made up of the seven men who’d supported her and five women—had yet to meet to strike them down.

  The remaining five council members who’d opposed her rule had been given the choice of leaving the city or facing Arwia’s new guardswomen and men who’d been trained in Manzazu. A particularly dour-faced former councilman had tried to lead a small insurrection against her and had ended up at the end of a rope, staring into Arwia’s eyes.

  The rest fled.

  Currently, Arwia’s concern about unrest in Sidu, a seaport city, was more pressing of a concern, so for me, when the law benefitted the man and not the woman, I wouldn’t agree to marry under it. Fortunately, Dagan hadn’t cared. He wanted me at his side, hand in hand for the rest of our days, marriage tradition upheld or not.

  I smiled at myself in the looking glass hanging on the wall of Dagan’s old chamber and smudged a bit more of the jade on my eyelids, per Nanaea’s command.

  A crown of roses around her head, she stood on tiptoe and pinned a sprig of yellow chamomile to the shoulder of my tunic.

  “Stand still, Sister. I swear to the gods of the skies that you’re the absolute worst when it comes to being prettied.”

  She ran her hands down the length of my turquoise tunic with the pockets I’d insisted she sew on, though she protested that they took away from the beauty of the garment. They were practical, I’d told her. I could keep my tinctures in there. I could put the gift in there that I needed to give to someone, should Nasu succeed in his quest. She’d grumbled, but she’d done it.

  “I’m fidgety, because there are more important things than being beautiful.”

  “Oh?” She lifted a thick eyebrow in a perfect arch, pursing her ruby-red lips as she tugged a loose string from my shoulder. “And those would be?”

  “Whether Nasu was successful in his mission, for one.”

  “Do you think he got them to come?”

  “I hope so. Plus, my healing tent is low on burdock root, and I cannot continue to treat Iltani without it.”

  “You’d worry about your work on a day like today?” She frowned as she reached up, adjusting the blooms around my head. “A day centered on love?”

  “It’s not my work. It’s my friend. Iltani is as glib as ever, but giving up the drink has been difficult for her.”

  She pursed her lips as she fussed with my hair. “She certainly doesn’t seem like she’s struggling. She works day and night in the Libbu with the merchants!”

  “The burdock root helps the shake in her hands, but she suffers whether she appears to or not. She was sad in Manzazu. Missed her family terribly. And now after being forced into marriage, she realizes she’s not infallible. That’s been difficult for her to accept.”

  “Well, hopefully Nasu gets some more from that new Manzazu healer, and you can wipe that worry line from between your brows.” Nanaea met my eyes.

  I smiled. “I promise I will relax.”

  Impulsively, I pulled her to me in a quick hug. She’d been my partner these last moons, helping me set up things in the healing tent, and getting Bikku, my new assistant, started while building a dancing troupe for Arwia’s Palace, too.

  I released her but held her at arm’s length. “You know you’ve been my solace since we won the city back. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”

  “I know.” She winked and picked a pot off the table by Dagan’s pallet, and dabbed something on my cheeks. “It’s about time you realized how great of a sister I really am.”

  Laughing, I wiggled out from underneath her fussing hands, and adjusted my tunic around my hips. She’d sewn it too tight at the waist, and I wanted to feast and dance and laugh until the stars came out, and this gown would only restrict my movements.

  “You’re certain I can’t wear something else? This is tight!”

  She adjusted our ummum’s shawl around her elbows. “It fit you fine a moon ago—”

  “Well, not today. Shiptu has been feeding us well.” Just this morning, she’d treated us to roasted duck and eggs cooked hot and sizzling. Fresh honeycakes and sweetwine. Finally, finally, I was beginning to feel stronger. Healthier.

  The door squeaked open and Kasha and Rish tumbled in, laughing, both of them scrubbed clean in brilliant red tunics, though Rish had a smear of fig jam across his tawny cheeks. He wiped it off with his hand. His only hand. I sent the forlorn thought away, putting it in a box where I kept my failures and my disappointments. My ummum’s death. His arm. Warad. Iltani’s forced marriage. I brought them out from time to time like old cloaks to take a good look and shake out the moths, but I’d tuck them back away for another day of examination. Maybe one day, I’d open it up and set fire to the contents, and finally, finally forgive myself for the harm I’d caused.

  Maybe one day.

  “Dagan says it’s time, Sister. It’s dusk.” Kasha took two steps into the room and swiped an apple from the platter nearby. “Besides”—he took a bite and crunched—“you have a visitor.”

  “You have two! Three! A whole pack of them!” Rish added, smiling brightly. “Come on!”

  Nasu had done it.

  They disappeared down the corridor, whooping and laughing, and from the grove of tamarisk trees out back, the sounds of the celebration floated in with the twangs of lyres and chings of bells.

  “Are you ready, Kammani? This is your one and only chance to back out.” Nanaea pulled a hair off her melon-colored tunic and cast it aside.

  “Back out of what? I’m a willing participant. More than willing. It’s a commitment, not a marriage.”

  This commitment to one another was bringing me everything I hadn’t realized I wanted before: a home with Dagan. A life filled with work that inspired me. Safety. Rest. Love. My cheeks heated.

  “Oh yes, but what of children? Will Selu bless them if they’re not born in marriage?”

  I colored. “Maybe Selu is more accepting than we all think, Nanaea. Besides, I’m not having any children, as I’ve told you before.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “As far as
I can tell, you’re well on your way to a house full of them. You believe that you are quiet, but let me say—”

  “Nanaea!” I shrieked, my cheeks growing even hotter.

  She laughed. “I am merely telling you how it is.”

  “As you’ve been doing too much lately.” I opened the chamber door and walked down the corridor, Nanaea trailing behind. The thought of children filled me with worry whenever it came up, so I knew motherhood wasn’t right for me. Not now. Maybe one day. But not anytime soon.

  “But if you have a child in the next year, she’ll be friends with baby Huna!”

  Arwia had been enjoying her own sort of motherhood these days, having adopted Gudanna’s daughter as her own. She figured she wouldn’t have to worry about the child being used as a pawn against her if she became her own heir.

  “Stop pestering me!” I growled, pinching her arm lightly as she pushed open the exterior door, and we stepped out into the dusk. The sunset was a dusting of rose against a golden western sky.

  A sky that Gudanna would never see again. She sat in the dungeons, living out the rest of her life under lock and key. I’d convinced Arwia to let her live instead of putting her head on the wall as she’d wanted to do. She had no real power or claim to the throne, and she was already ill, deteriorating in bits and pieces as the days went by. Arwia allowed Gudanna to see the babe from time to time, though the sullen woman refused the treatments I offered her. “Why heal only to live like a rat?” she’d said. Nevertheless, I tried. I told Arwia she wouldn’t last until spring, and even I realized that was for the best.

  Torches lined the perimeter of the courtyard, and a crowd stood around, laughing, chatting as musicians played in the corner. Shiptu, Iltani, and Nanaea had hung red linen tapestries tied with big bouquets of yellow chamomile. The low tables were laden with fruit and rounds of bread and sikaru.

  “So where are these visitors?” I asked Nanaea.

  Marduk and Qishti were threading ducks onto poles for roasting. Sarratum Arwia, surrounded by new guards, was chatting with Enzi Puzu and Ensi Adda. A group of Dagan’s new farming friends were tipping flagons to their mouths near Iltani, who was playing twenty squares with Nasu and some other guardsmen. From time to time, she took a sip of water sweetened with honey and mint, her new favorite drink.

  Nanaea tugged our ummum’s shawl around her shoulders as the breeze picked up. “Who knows? But I would have liked to have seen Ummum’s face today, wouldn’t you? And Abum’s? They would have loved to have seen you settled with Dagan, even if you’re defying tradition.” She smiled at me wistfully.

  “And I would like to see you with me as well.” Dagan’s voice was a low whisper in my ear, and it heated me from my toes to my cheek.

  I turned around, joy dancing in my chest. “How long have you been standing behind me?”

  He grinned, and I could barely contain myself. Nanaea murmured something and drifted away to join the other dancers she’d put together to perform this evening, but I didn’t quite catch what she’d said. For right then, all I could see was him. He wore a dark blue tunic with gold stitching that made his amber eyes shine like torchlight. His beard was oiled, and his thick, black hair was pulled back from his face.

  “You’re so handsome,” I murmured, and I was filled with so much happiness, I felt as though I might burst.

  “Young love,” a woman said from behind us. “May Linaza grant you lots of children in your future.”

  Startled, I looked over Dagan’s shoulder and found a group of women standing there as if I’d conjured their spirits: Sarratum Tabni with a regiment of Koru surrounding her, including Ummi and Higal. My dear friend Simti stood behind them. My throat tightened as my eyes filled. “Nasu got you to come. He did it.”

  Sarratum Tabni inclined her head. “Yes, he asked, but I came because Sarratum Arwia requested my help with the unrest by the sea. It appears she wants to work out some sort of an arrangement involving my warriors. But she requested that I come talk to you first. You had something to tell me?”

  “First”—I bowed my head—“I am honored you would grace our humble home with your presence. And second, I never thanked you for your favor. Many of your warriors died—” My voice hitched, and Dagan wrapped a strong arm around my waist. “I never even got to thank Humusi and Taram for their sacrifice.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gift I’d saved for her. The scorpion amulet.

  “You gave this to me to grant me a favor; now I give it back to you with the same intent. I owe you. Should you ever need to collect, I am yours. Your warriors saved us.” I nodded to Ummi and Higal behind her. They both solemnly opened their arms in the Linaza salute.

  Dagan placed his hand over his heart. “It’s the truth. I am also in your debt, Sarratum. And I will repay it when you need me to.

  “And, uh…” He scratched his neck. “If I may be so bold, I also have a field full of barley I could sell you if you’d like?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

  Sarratum Tabni took the amulet and fastened it around her graceful neck. She smiled shrewdly at him, then met my eyes. “The Koru who have died know that you’ve thanked them. Linaza tells me in my dreams. But you can be sure when I need your help, I will call on you. You can be sure.”

  She nodded graciously at Dagan. “And send along a selection of your finest crop for me to taste. I’d be happy to have our farmers consider it.”

  “I will, Sarratum. I will. Thank you.”

  As she wandered off toward the fire, the Koru warriors flanking her on all sides, Dagan grinned at me excitedly. “Did you hear that? An expansion of the crop!”

  “Yes, Arammu. I did.” I laughed. “And I’m proud of you.”

  “Kammani!” Simti, nearly exploding in her impatience, flung herself awkwardly into my arms.

  “You’re well, Simti?” She was practically glowing, so the answer to my question was obvious.

  She laughed and pulled my hands up and kissed them. “Yes, my friend. So well. Ilu is the best husband. He’s here somewhere.” She waved her hand and beamed. “And,” she whispered, “I am with child!”

  “Truly?” Chills of happiness for her flooded my body. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes!” she squeaked. “I’ve missed two cycles of the moon!”

  “I am glad for you, my friend. So glad!” After I danced her around and found out about what we’d missed in Manzazu, she released me with promises to talk all things married life later, and went to find Arwia.

  Then it was just Dagan and me and our futures spinning out in front of us like threads from Nanaea’s spools. Long, and golden.

  “Arammu.” He wrapped his arm around me once more, and we walked toward the crowd under the tamarisk trees. The red climber flowers along the courtyard wall lent a sweet fragrance as the cicadas buzzed somewhere in the dark. “They’re waiting for us.”

  He inclined his head toward the group of our family and friends who’d quieted the closer we’d drawn to Dagan’s ummum, who stood in the center of the courtyard, a woven crown of flowers on her head.

  “Let’s not keep them waiting a moment more.”

  With a grin so wide and bright it lit up the dusk, he dropped his arm from my waist and I took his hand, and together, we walked down the path that led to our expansive future. As the crowds grew tight around us, Kasha near Dagan’s brothers, Nanaea, Iltani, and Simti cheek to cheek, both sarratums with their warriors behind us all, Dagan’s ummum draped long beads around our necks and asked us to promise one another our love. To swear to hold each other dear. We each laid our hands over our hearts and vowed to speak kindly to one another for the rest of our days, and prayed to Selu to protect us all our lives.

  And as the sky darkened and the torches burned brightly, moths flickering around the flames, I looked up into Dagan’s bright eyes, and knew, with all I had in me, that this life with h
im would be full of joy and likely heartache, too, because life was both. But no matter what was thrown at us—new life, death, war, or disease—we could handle it all because together, we were a force, united.

  * * *

  I’m standing on the river.

  Beneath me, the water bubbles and churns, frothing blue and white. Fish, their scales rainbows underneath the water, flit by in schools.

  I’m not alone.

  A man stands on the bank, and he’s pulling a rickety boat to the shore by a golden rope. I’ve seen him before in my dreams, while I lie asleep nestled in Dagan’s arms in our little house, built on the south side of the farm for him and me, Nanaea, and Kasha.

  The man raises a sharp, angular face to mine. He’s dressed like a warrior with a leather chestplate and greaves on his thick legs, but his face is at peace, no longer tortured as it once was. He smiles at me, and his relief is as thick as honey. It flows over me with sweet warmth.

  It’s the Boatman, and I recognize the man for who he really is.

  A woman with a scorpion tail appears from the reeds behind him, expands mighty, gold wings and lifts into the air, then descends into the boat. As she settles on a bench, her wings flutter once before she tucks them back in.

  Linaza!

  I gasp, shaking. The goddess of love and war, called such because those two passions often flow from the same source, is present before me.

  Another man stands on the shore, and he’s glowing white. I can’t see his figure as great gusts of wind swirl around him, consuming him, but I hide my face, knowing I’m looking at Selu. The same honeyed warmth spreads throughout my chest as I look at his whirlwind, and slowly, so slowly, he points down the shore at a pair of figures walking toward the Boatman.

  Confused, the Boatman squints into the distance, but after a moment, his face crumples. He drops his head into his hands, and sobs rack his strong shoulders. He looks up again as if in disbelief, and the figures run toward him at full speed.