by Liz Craven
Understanding lit Thane’s eyes. “It neutralizes and purges other herbals from the blood stream, but it has no effect on mental acuity or motor skills.”
“What did Creary take?”
“I don’t know what rituals the Quixivon follow, but we have several that involve ingesting plants to open your mind to the Deity. I assume Creary took something in a similar rite.”
“Why would he do that? Why would you?”
Thane shrugged. “We have followed some rituals since before the written word. I’m sure the Quixivon honor similar ones for the same reason we do. To honor our ancestors.”
“That’s just stupid.”
“That’s the way of the tribes.”
Ilexa turned her attention back to the ritual, and watched as they repeated it until the pot was empty. As the two participants lifted their last cup, Ilexa sat the empty bottle on the floor and shifted Zavian to her shoulder to burp.
Creary and the Malkia slammed their cups down. The sound startled the baby, but Ilexa bounced him on her shoulder before he could work up any outrage.
“The Hakimu welcome Creary of the Quixivon as friend,” the Malkia announced.
“Heyla,” the warriors in the room thundered in response.
Ilexa wondered what significance a Quixivon “friend” held.
In the pregnant pause that followed, the baby belched loud enough to shake the furniture, sparking smiles throughout the room.
Creary rose, his movements smoother than before. Ilexa couldn’t resist. She continued to pat the baby, careful to only touch his clothing, and looked at Creary with her healer’s sight. The ribbons of black had faded to gray and dissipated slowly before her eyes. Ilexa made a mental note to investigate palava tea.
Creary shook his head as though to clear it. “I thank you for the honor,” he announced. “Now, I must return to my tribesmen to tell them to stand down and to explain my son’s presence with the Hakimu. I may return for him tomorrow?”
He directed the last at Ilexa, who immediately shook her head. “The day after.”
“The day after,” he agreed, eyes fixed on his son’s back.
Ilexa stood and extended the child, so Creary could hold him before leaving. He cradled the baby against him, rubbing his cheek against Zavian’s fuzzy head.
“I will take good care of him,” Ilexa promised.
Creary met her eyes. “I know. You’ve done more for him than I believed possible and ended a blood feud.”
She didn’t point out she’d only intended to heal her patient. “Thank you.”
“Allow us to provide you transport to your tribe,” the Malkia offered.
“I would appreciate that.”
The air pressure in the room seemed to change in the brief pause following his words. Again, Ilexa felt something significant had passed. She wondered what that might be.
Rhys stepped forward. “I’ll escort you if that is acceptable.”
“Of course.”
To Ilexa’s surprise, Creary bowed to the Malkia before handing Zavian back and leaving with Rhys.
Satiated, Zavian yawned and snuggled under her chin. Copious amounts of cold drool trickled down her neck.
The Malkia faced her with accusation in her silvery-green gaze. Ilexa squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and met the woman’s gaze without flinching.
“I realize you are not from Dunia, but assumed that didn’t mean you lacked common sense.” The Malkia’s voice could have caused frostbite.
“A commitment to treating all who seek my healing gift does not mean I lack common sense—”
“Then, perhaps it is intelligence you lack.”
“—or intelligence.”
“Your disregard for tribal loyalties started a war.” The Malkia wasn’t shouting, but she was close. “Many Hakimu would have died if Creary hadn’t seen reason.”
“I am sorry events unfolded as they did. I only intended to heal the child, not start a war.” Ilexa hoped the Malkia heard her sincerity. The entire situation had her stomach beginning to roll. She might cry when angry or frustrated, but in a crisis, she could hold her own and then some. However, with the adrenaline fading, the stress was catching up with her.
“I want your word that you will never take a patient from outside the Hakimu without my permission.”
“I can’t give you that promise. I swore an oath as a healer, and I cannot make a vow that could conflict with that oath.” Ilexa managed to keep her voice steady, despite her increasing upset.
The Malkia studied her silently for a long moment, and Ilexa thought she saw a glimmer of respect in the woman’s green eyes.
“We will discuss this further. For now, I must see to my people. Thane, escort the healer to her quarters.” The Malkia turned and swept from the room with a purposeful stride. The remaining warriors followed in her wake.
Chapter Six
“I told you to show courage, not recklessness,” Thane growled at her once they were alone. He’d wanted to clap his hand over the rash woman’s mouth when she’d dare stand against the Malkia.
He expected her give him some mouthy response. Instead, Ilexa sank back down into the chair. She rocked the baby gently, but it didn’t hide the fine tremors shaking her body.
He crouched beside the chair and gruffly asked, “Are you all right?”
“Fine. I’d like to take Zavian to my quarters with me. He still needs his treatment, even if I’m under house arrest.”
“You aren’t under house arrest. The Malkia most likely just wants you somewhere you can’t do anymore damage.” She winced, and Thane had to stop himself from apologizing for his harsh tone. He was always harsh, dammit. It came with being a warrior. And since when was Ilexa so bloody sensitive? Feeling awkward, he asked, “Where have you been treating the baby?”
“In a closet in the medical ward.”
“You kept a baby locked up in a closet?” He hadn’t meant to shout. Really, he hadn’t.
Ilexa narrowed her eyes. She shifted the baby and pulled a small box from her waist. “Only yesterday did he begin doing more than sleeping and eating. This monitor connects him to me. I know if he so much as turns over in his sleep. I did not keep a baby locked up in a closet. I kept him safe.”
He shoved a hand into his hair, dislodging the tie he’d used to hold it back. Sometimes he missed the simplicity of the League’s harsh military cut. “Why didn’t you just tell the Malkia about him?”
She hesitated a moment. “I wouldn’t have risked the baby’s life by telling her.”
“Do you really think the Hakimu so brutal as to deny an infant medical care?” He was beyond angry; he was deeply insulted.
“I couldn’t risk it,” she whispered, tucking the monitor back into her clothing.
He met her eyes and mentally cursed himself for not having noticed the bruising beneath them. The toll of secretly caring for the enemy’s child showed on her face. Her wan complexion gave her a more fragile air than normal. It was enough to temper his emotional outrage, but a hidden hurt had him asking, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Ilexa snorted an inelegant laugh. “You would have told the Malkia before I finished the explanation.”
“Not if you had asked me for my silence. I would have given you my word on the matter.”
She watched him with those huge silver eyes, and he wondered if she heard what he wasn’t saying. The things—the promises—he implied.
The baby began to squirm. Her eyes fell to the child in her arms, and he let the moment pass. It was not time to address the connection between them. He watched her shush the infant, and the image of her holding his child appeared so clearly in his mind’s eye, he lost his balance. Desire assailed him, not for her body, but for her permanent presence in his life. For a family with her.
Talon was going to kill him.
“Do you need to stop by the medical ward for anything?” He watched her rise gracefully, despite the child in her arms.
“No.” She started
towards the door, then hesitated. Looking back over her shoulder, she asked, “What does Malkia mean?”
His thoughts arrested and it took a moment for him to switch gears. Whatever she had been thinking, it wasn’t along the same lines as his thoughts. “Malkia is a title. It is given to our tribal guide at her birth.”
“It’s a hereditary position?”
Thane opened the door for her, before following her into the hallway. “No, though the honor has been in the Malkia’s family for several generations.”
“Then how do you give it to the next Malkia at her birth? And why do you pick a guide so young?”
“We don’t ‘pick’ a Malkia. The Malkia is chosen by the Deity. She stands in his presence before being sent to guide us. A little girl is born with the silver-green eyes of the Deity himself as a mark of her position.”
Ilexa cocked her head, considering. “The Malkia is always female?”
“Yes.”
“When does the next Malkia take over guiding the tribe?”
“When the existing Malkia dies or steps down.”
“You never have more than one Malkia-in-waiting?”
He shook his head in light amusement. “Before becoming the Malkia, the girl is called the Malkine. And no, we never have extra Malkine. The Deity is responsible for the Malkine’s succession.”
“How old is the current Malkine?”
Thane frowned. “The Malkine has not been born.”
They walked in silence a few steps, and Thane brooded. The tribe had never gone so long between the ascension of a Malkia and the birth of a Malkine. Many were becoming nervous, and the tribe’s birth rate had risen with the attempt to produce her.
“So what is the Malkia’s name?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
Ilexa stopped. “What do you mean she doesn’t have one? Everyone has a name.”
“Not the Malkia. She is only known as either the Malkia or the Malkine.”
“That’s awful!”
“That is the way of things.” Thane didn’t bother to elaborate.
“So, what will she do to me?”
“Do to you?”
Ilexa started moving again. “I assume I will be chastised for hiding Zavian. I don’t pretend to understand your culture, but I do know the Malkia is not going to let this go unpunished.”
“She is neither spiteful nor malicious, if that is your fear. Likely, she will restrict your access to other tribes and keep a close eye on you.”
They reached Ilexa’s chamber, and he opened the door for her. She crossed the room, her shoes making no sound on the thick carpet, and laid the baby on the bed. Thane closed the door and moved closer for a better look.
The baby’s head flopped to the side, and his entire body gave a hard twitch. He let out a breathy sigh and settled into a boneless sleep. Thane turned to Ilexa, and saw her neck gleaming in the light. It took a moment for him to realize it was wet. He followed the moist path down to the top of her IMEP jumpsuit, which Zavian had so drenched it appeared purple rather than blue.
He eyed the comparably dry infant lying on the bed. As a career military man and warrior, Thane had experienced little interaction with children through his life. He doubted he’d ever actually been in a room with an infant, at least not since he’d been one himself. Were they supposed to leak that much? The risk of dehydration ran high during campaigns, and Thane had seen more than one soldier succumb to it.
Ilexa didn’t appear alarmed. She crossed to the dresser, retrieved a handkerchief and started swiping at the fluid. Watching her stretch her neck back and use long strokes of the handkerchief made his palms itch to touch that soft expanse of skin…covered in baby drool.
That doused his ardor.
He turned a wary eye back to the desiccated infant. “Does he need an IV?”
Ilexa stopped mid-swipe and rushed to Zavian’s side. “What? Why?”
“For dehydration.”
“He’s not dehydrated.”
“He has lost a great deal of fluid,” Thane pointed out reasonably.
Ilexa slid a finger into Zavian’s diaper. “He’s dry. What are you talking about?”
He shoved a finger at her chest, stopping a few millimeters away from the wet material. No reason to actually touch it. “The amount of saliva coating your skin and soaking your clothing is substantially more than he could sweat out. The sheer volume indicates he needs replenishing. This is part of his disease, isn’t it?”
A ghost of a smile touched Ilexa’s lips. “He’s not dehydrated and it’s not part of his disease. He’s teething.”
“Teething,” he repeated stupidly.
“A baby’s drool increases when he starts teething. It’s normal. He’s fine.”
“Oh.” He peered into the baby’s open mouth, but couldn’t make out any teeth.
Ilexa sat on the bed. “How long do you suppose the Malkia will be? I’d like to start another treatment. I only have two days left.”
“I’m not certain.” Thane didn’t point out that he had no experience on which to base an estimate. Mentioning that no one had started a war with the Hakimu in over two centuries wouldn’t endear him to her.
Ilexa let out a sigh, and worried her lower lip. “I’m going to begin another treatment. If the Malkia returns, would you tell her that it is best for Zavian not to disturb me until I’m done?”
“Yes.” He didn’t like that she didn’t look at him when she asked. He wanted her to look at him when she nibbled her lip, not keep her attention focused on the sleeping child.
Her eyes unfocused and her breathing slowed. He could almost physically feel her withdrawing from the world around them, and he didn’t like the sensation that she was no longer with him.
Unsure what to do with himself, he sat on the chair by the bed and studied Ilexa. Time slowed, and he took advantage of her healing state to stare at her in a way he never would if she were conscious. He’d traveled the galaxy and seen beautiful women of all races and species, but none of them held a candle to the healer before him. Like all men who met her, Thane lusted after her physically, but he also admired her. He admired her fire and her commitment. Her zest for life had always captivated him. Something had muted that zeal, but it seemed to be returning.
Thane wondered how she would take his pursuit. He considered her family’s reaction. As a member of the Damaia’s family, Ilexa likely expected to marry into any one of thousands of noble houses with the League. Outside a Malkia, his tribe didn’t recognize an aristocracy. He hoped that wouldn’t pose a problem for her family, as he had no intention of allowing her to escape him.
Time passed. When her eyelids fluttered, he watched her awareness return. She shook her head, and he realized she had become even paler than before. Her features seemed more angular, gaunter. Could she have lost weight while he sat there watching her? Damn it, he should have forced her to take the baby to the medical ward so someone could monitor her health while she worked.
She stretched and offered him a feeble smile. “He’s responding well.”
“You look terrible.”
“Why thank you, Thane. You know how to make a girl all atwitter.”
Tact had never been his forte. “Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
Tired? She looked like she should sleep for at least a week. He’d never before considered a coma a positive condition. “I don’t want you working on him again unless you are being monitored by Doctor Eiverin.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
Before he could insist, a loud knock sounded on the door. He rose to admit the Malkia and Rhys.
Ilexa scrambled from the bed and placed a finger to her lips. “Zavian is sleeping.”
“A member of our tribe perished in preparation for battle,” the Malkia whispered without preamble.
Ilexa staggered and Thane grabbed her shoulders to steady her. He glared at the Malkia for springing the news in such a
harsh manner. He should have saved his energy. The Malkia didn’t take her eyes off Ilexa.
“I am so sorry.” Ilexa’s misery hung like a tangible thing in the air.
“You will go with us to tell his wife.”
Ilexa nodded and gathered herself together. “I need to take Zavian to the medical ward first.”
“Rhys will take him,” the Malkia announced.
Rhys stepped forward, and Ilexa lifted Zavian from the bed into his arms. Thane watched amazed as the child flopped about, but didn’t awaken. He wished he could sleep like that.
The Malkia strode from the room with purpose, leaving Thane and Ilexa to hurry after her. The trio walked in silence a few yards, before Thane asked, “Who did we lose?”
“Borys.”
Ilexa’s shoulders hunched in misery.
“I can almost understand your hiding the child.” The Malkia’s tone was conversational. “But what I cannot fathom is why you remained silent when Quixivon warriors began amassing.”
“I didn’t know they were.” Ilexa’s voice barely qualified as a whisper.
Thane’s mind flashed to Ilexa suddenly appearing on the ridge where they awaited Creary. She’d appeared frantic and demanded information on the approaching tribe.
The Malkia took exception to Ilexa’s denial. “The emergency tone played through the keep, alerting all Hakimu to contact their family head—”
The Malkia cut herself off and glanced back at Thane. They’d both just realized the disservice they had done Ilexa.
“I don’t recall a tone. What did it sound like?”
“It wouldn’t have played in the medical ward. Family heads would be expected to contact anyone working there,” Thane told her.
“And we neglected to consider that you had no family head.”
Thane cringed internally at the insult dealt Ilexa. No one lived without family—the rare occasion someone found himself or herself alone, another family adopted him or her. The worst punishments the tribe could give a criminal was shunning or banishment. Even death was preferable to having all familial ties severed.
Ilexa nodded dismissively. “What does the tone sound like? If I’m not in medical, I don’t want to miss it.”