Aesa replied by rote. “To take all that is ours.”
“And what is ours?”
“Everything.”
Gilka’s slipped her hammer back in its ring. “If they can’t defend what’s theirs, they deserve to have it taken from them. That includes their lives.”
Aesa winced, but not so Gilka could see.
Chapter Nine
Maeve tried to refuse any more gifts, but Jontur pushed another basket of blackberries at her, and she had to take hold or risk them spilling to the ground. “You saved my bondmate and my newborn son,” he said. “I only wish I had more to give you!”
Maeve glanced at the heaps of vegetables and fruit he’d already given. “But what of your family? Surely they need—”
“We’ve enough dried veg and fruit packed in honey to keep us for a long time to come. My sister Vaertha has a way with plants.”
“What fertilizer does she use?” Laret asked as she moved the gifts inside the house.
Before Jontur could speak, Maeve cried, “Stop! Please save the plant talk for when I’m not here.”
Jontur chuckled along with her. “I should be getting home before it gets any later, anyway. If you ever want to talk of plants with Vaertha, feel free to drop by. And you must come and see Autha and little Bulnir.” He gave them a serious look. “And if you need anything, any food—”
“Jontur.” Maeve clapped him on the shoulder. “If we manage to eat all this, it will be one of Laret’s miracles.”
After they told him what it meant, he said, “I like the word. I’ll pass it on.” With another laugh, he began to lead his mule away then he spun back, snapping his fingers. “I nearly forgot. You’ll no doubt have some company soon.”
When they stared, he looked between them. “Do witches not seek out other witches?” he asked. “I confess I know little about your folk. I met one of Gilka’s witches once. He stopped to visit when Vaertha’s bondmate came home. They sailed on a ship together, though I don’t know if they still do.”
Laret held her hands up. “A witch came to see you recently?”
“No, one of them came to see Taesa. Have you met her? Raises pigs out east of the lake? Anyway, the witch visited three days ago, one of your kind with the, um…” He gestured to his eyes and then to Laret’s. “Taesa didn’t like the look of her, though. No offense intended. I mean, Maeve told us you don’t mean us any harm, Laret, not that you aren’t trustworthy on your own. But this witch, she had the, uh…” Again, that vague gesture to his face, his cheeks this time.
“Curse lines,” Laret muttered.
“Did this blood witch say what she wanted here?” Maeve asked.
“Asked for shelter for the night. Taesa didn’t see how she could refuse, seeing as it was a blood witch doing the asking.” He glanced at Laret again. “No offense intended.”
“You’re right to be afraid.”
“Not if she hasn’t done anything,” Maeve said.
Jontur shifted his feet. “Not yet, you mean. No offense—”
“None taken.” Laret rubbed one finger over her lower lip, her gaze far away.
Maeve turned to Jontur. “Thank you again for the food.”
He smiled. “Perhaps this new witch has come to aid Gilka. Quite a boon for her, as these things go.” He left then, ambling down the track toward his house.
“I felt another witch while Aesa was here,” Laret said, “but it wasn’t by the lake. If it was this blood witch, she’s moving around the countryside.”
Maeve put the blackberries into the house along with the rest. “She’s free to do as she pleases.”
“It worries me,” Laret said. “Why here? Why now?”
“Why did you appear in our lands when you did?”
Laret just kept staring at nothing. Maeve bumped her arm. “Let’s have a cup of mead and save the worrying for later.”
They sat together on the log before the fire pit as the sun slipped beneath the world. Maeve stirred the coals into a small fire. The day Aesa left, they’d worked the small farm and met more of their neighbors. That night, Maeve had convinced Laret to show her a bit of blood magic, to explain what it felt like, though she didn’t allow Maeve to try it yet. She’d nicked herself to start the blood flowing and then called to more, shuddering as she did as if the feeling repelled, or worse, excited her.
Maeve had curled her fingers into fists to resist healing the cut. When Laret called to more of her blood, Maeve tried to feel what she was doing without focusing on her pain.
“A blood witch’s most powerful weapon isn’t the curse,” Laret had said. “It’s this.” She held her wounded hand over Maeve’s arm, and a few drops of blood pattered down. Maeve fought the urge to pull away and wipe herself off. Tingles built in her arm, and she’d watched with open-mouthed shock as her own blood seeped through her skin under Laret’s, pulled from her body by magic.
“I’m going slowly,” Laret said breathlessly. “But I could drain you much faster. If I can catch a person in the face, I can drain them faster still, but it’s hard to kill someone like this. You need the power of the heart to push while you pull.” She laughed darkly. “Some witches manage it, though.”
Maeve had fought back, pitting her healer’s spirit against Laret, trying to close the tiny wounds. Laret gasped and then laughed, their powers at a standstill until Laret released her. Maeve chuckled, but in her heart, she saw a little of what made people fear blood witches.
But she didn’t fear Laret, and she wouldn’t fear this new witch until she had a reason.
Laret took a long drink from her cup. “I suppose it could be random chance. But someone with curse marks…”
“Does a witch get the marks after just one curse?”
Laret shrugged. “The witch of Sanaan never said. The first time I performed blood magic, my eyes hurt, but they didn’t change for weeks, and I used the power a lot.” She fiddled with her clothes, smoothing her breeches over her knees. “The more you do, the more you want to do. One of the reasons it’s so dangerous to learn.”
Maeve sighed, remembering Laret’s shudder, the pull of the blood between them. “I’ll have to be careful, just like anyone with power.”
“There are places in the world where blood witches are barred, if not hunted down outright. In other places, they are only tolerated until they’re not.”
“You heard Jontur. Some might fear blood magic, but we admire power and strength if it aids us.”
“Even if you sail with a thrain, people like Jontur will fear you whether they respect you or not. No offense intended.”
Maeve chuckled and stared at the flames. Laret’s soft touch on her back could have been a gust of air it was so light, but Maeve knew it was her.
“It won’t matter if you never curse anyone, Maeve; your neighbors will fear you. Do you think they would have come to see me if I was staying here alone? Anxious fathers might not fetch you unless they have a curse to break or they’re trying to convince you to cast one.”
“I’ll still be a healer. They’ll know that.”
“Knowing is one thing, believing another.”
“They aren’t stupid.”
“Wait until they’re scared.”
Maeve crossed her arms. “I wasn’t afraid of you when we first met.”
Laret sighed and flexed her hands as if drawing new arguments toward herself. “Why risk it? You don’t need blood magic to make you whole! All that matters is how you think of yourself.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it.”
“It’s not a lie,” Laret said softly, anger and pain coloring her voice. “What others know of you and what you know of yourself are often different.”
Maeve glanced over, but Laret’s face was turned away. “It’s Aesa I keep thinking of. I could feel her pulling away even when we were in the same room. And I feel as if I have to do something to join her on her level, or she’ll just slip away.”
If Laret had an opinion on that, she kept
it to herself.
Maeve sighed. “I know your past was painful, that you came to peace with yourself when you got your wyrd—”
“My peace didn’t have a thing to do with my wyrd,” Laret said as she stood.
“Well, mine does!” Maeve stood with her. “It’s pretty clear that we both think the other should be happy because she has everything she wants.”
Laret’s jaw dropped. “You think that about me?” She barked a bitter laugh and turned slightly away. “I’m…”
“What?”
Laret smiled, and her eyes shimmered in the firelight, but she shed no tears. “You’re right. Sometimes what other people think is important, if it’s someone you care about.”
“I care about you, Laret. We’ve become fast friends, just like Catja and Saemir in the tale where they fought the fae. What you think of me is important, but so is what Aesa thinks, what the rest of my people think. And if I master blood magic, I’ll just have to prove myself trustworthy all over again. It may be difficult, but I’m willing to try.” She squeezed Laret’s hand. “I don’t know if I could leave my home like you did, but I think you’re brave for doing so.”
Laret sighed, and her shoulders sagged as if all the tension left her. “If we keep standing here talking about how much we admire each other, we’re going to fall into each other’s arms.”
Maeve could tell by the way she half turned toward the darkness that she was joking, but the words made Maeve look at her more closely. She didn’t have a fighter’s body, sinewy and strong, but her shape was enticing: lean, with strong hands. She was always bundled up so it was difficult to tell much about her figure, but Maeve bet every inch of her was nice and warm. And that hair! Dark, thick, wavy curls that were always blowing around her face. Maeve fought the sudden desire to plunge her fingers into those curls and feel them cascade around her hands.
“Let’s put the fire out and go inside,” Maeve said. “To eat, in case you were getting ideas.” She turned away before Laret had time to blush, but it was nice to imagine.
They ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts. When they cleared the meal away, Laret looked at Maeve at last, the glance a serious one. Maeve fought the urge to sigh.
“Aesa was afraid of me the first time we met.” Laret leaned forward, bringing the red in her eyes into sharper relief.
Maeve put her hands on her hips. “Aesa would never fear me.”
“She’d fear for you. That’s nearly as crippling where relationships are concerned.”
Maeve fought the urge to lash out, to ask what Laret knew about relationships since she seemed so good at getting close to people. “I’ll just live with you, then, and Aesa can fear both of us.”
“Ha! Now you’re just trying to put me off my argument.”
“No, no. I’ve lived with you this long. I’m battle hardened. Besides, I like you.”
“Well, um, thanks. But this is Aesa’s house anyway!”
Maeve laughed. “Then curse someone out of theirs, and we’ll have our own.”
Laret shoved her playfully. “Curse them yourself!”
“I would if you’d teach me.”
They both fell to laughing until they sank down on the bench side by side. “Thank you,” Laret said, “for wanting me to stay.”
“Sorry, I only accept gratitude in the form of vegetables.”
Laret gave her another playful shove. “You make surly people want to be nice to you. Another power to add to your list. And if anyone did fear you, you’d fall over trying to put them at ease.”
“The terrifying and comforting witch of the lake. I like it.” Without thinking, she rested her head on Laret’s shoulder. Laret stiffened, but Maeve pretended she didn’t notice. After a moment, Laret relaxed, and they stared into the flames in silence.
*
Laret’s heart pounded. Her first reaction had been to pull away, but she’d forced herself to sit still, to be in the moment. The gentle weight on her shoulder signaled trust but also a desire for contact and a surety that such contact would not be unwelcome. It was simple, childlike.
Why then was her stomach pleasantly abuzz and tightening? She started to wonder what it would be like if Maeve’s touch went wandering to her knee, her thigh.
Then she would find the truth. That set Laret’s insides squirming at a more alarming pace, and she tried to breathe through it, to live in the now, to not think too hard. But she couldn’t stop seeing her father’s angry face.
“You will live as my son,” he’d raged, “or I will see you stoned to death in the street!”
But Maeve’s people didn’t care about gender, or about who coupled with whom, so they might be more forgiving of a person whose spirit and body didn’t match. But she hadn’t yet figured out how to ask without inviting attention.
And Maeve accepted people. When someone needed her help, she didn’t ask who they might be. She offered smiles without question or expectation. If she learned Laret’s truth, she might be surprised, but she would adapt.
Or she wouldn’t. She might demand Laret leave her home. She might laugh. Either way, her head would never rest on Laret’s shoulder again. She’d—
“Are you thirsty?” Maeve asked as she sat up. And then she was moving around the house.
Laret nearly cursed. So much for living in the moment.
Maeve came back with two cups. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you frowning?”
“Because I’m a terrible person.”
“You are not, and you know it.”
Laret laughed. “I just wanted to see if I could get you to say it.”
“Are all your people so fond of compliments?”
Laret crossed her legs and leaned back. “I’m not sure that ‘you’re not a terrible person’ is a compliment.”
“It’s not an insult.” Maeve sat sideways, leaning on the table and resting her chin on one fist. The gloom darkened her eyes, but they sported a mischievous gleam. “Do your people raid?”
“Why?”
“Because we have nothing to do but talk until we go to bed, and I’m still curious about you.”
Laret felt her cheeks warm and ducked her head to hide it. “The Asimi are traders. We have ships, but they’d have to sail quite a ways to reach this far north. And they’d have to head south first and around the lands of the Akonegee, who have far more ships than we do.”
“I’ve only heard whispers about them. They’re on the other side of the world.”
“Not quite, just far south. Their skin is dark, far more than mine, and those I’ve met keep their curly hair close to their scalp. My father’s Akonegee trading partner was a man named Haram, a dashing fellow who dressed in bright silks. He wore rings in his right ear and a stone in his nose.”
Maeve laughed. “How could he breathe?”
Laret patted the side of her nostril. “A piercing here, like in the ear.”
Maeve shook her head, frowning as if she couldn’t imagine it. “How was he dashing?”
“He had an easy laugh, a charming way with women.”
“Even you?”
Laret laughed a little breathlessly, and the truth tumbled from her lips. “I’ve never been that interested in men, dashing or otherwise.”
The glint was back in Maeve’s eyes. “Fascinating.”
Laret hoped the light was dim enough to hide her blush this time. She had to get that under control. “Haram had six wives, and I heard that they conspired to keep him from taking any more and stretching their fortune any thinner. They employed Haram’s personal guard, a woman named Akara, to keep a close eye on him.”
“A fierce woman?”
“A master with the sword. The other guards called her alet narat, the steel wind. I once saw her fight off a gang of street thugs with only the flat of her blade.”
“See?” Maeve poked Laret’s leg with her toe. “Everyone admires those who can handle themselves in battle.”
&
nbsp; Laret ignored that. “She chased out any women she found in Haram’s bed so he wouldn’t be tempted to keep them.” Laret laughed at the memory of irate concubines being hustled from the guest house on her father’s estate. “She was kind to me, quick-witted. She told the dirtiest jokes I’ve ever heard.”
“Do you remember any?”
Laret shook her head before her blush deepened.
“Sounds as if you admired the steel wind.”
“I was fourteen. I fancied myself in love, but it was…”
“The flame of youth?”
Laret nodded. “She knew it. She was kind to me anyway. The last time I saw her and Haram, she gave me a big kiss, swatted my backside, and said, ‘Find someone your own age, and then tell me about it on my return.’ And then she sailed away.”
“Why didn’t you travel south to see her when you left home?”
Laret took a deep breath. She’d thought about it, but she’d heard too many rumors. The hotter the clime, the less tolerance they had for someone like her. “They don’t want people like me there.”
“But surely they need curse breakers.”
Laret glanced up, losing the thread of the past. “What?”
“Even if they don’t tolerate blood magic, they should have been able to tell by looking at you that you haven’t cursed anyone. You could tell them you’re a curse breaker.”
“It was a chance I couldn’t take.” Maeve’s hand covered hers, such a simple, unthinking gesture from someone who couldn’t stand another’s pain. “You remind me of her.”
Maeve’s eyes went wide. “I’ve never been compared to a steel wind before!”
“Your kindness. For someone so dangerous, she had an open heart.”
“But closed legs.”
Laret sputtered as she took a drink. “That was a joke worthy of her.”
“So, did you find someone your own age?” When Laret glanced at her, she raised an eyebrow. “It’s your story; why not finish it?”
“We were speaking of Akara, not me.”
“Ah,” Maeve said as she poured another cup for both of them, “but she ignited your passion. Who did you end up burning with?”
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