Given

by Nandi Taylor

  And sleep that night she did, at Weysh’s.

  After mailing the letter, he took her back to his townhouse. As she prepared for bed Yenni’s stomach fluttered with nerves. The last time they had been alone in his bedroom he was being so kind and caring that Yenni had kissed him in the heat of the moment, and then things had escalated so quickly. But truth be told, a large part of her was scared to take things further. Though there was no proof she’d been ambushed by the Gunzu, she couldn’t help linking her dalliances with Weysh to the attack, as if it were a punishment for ignoring her obligation to her tribe. And so she felt that should she take the next step with him something worse would occur.

  She needn’t have worried, though; he simply kissed her and left her in his bedroom, telling her he would sleep on the rooftop in dragon.

  Yenni lay alone in Weysh’s bed for long, anxious moments. She knew her worry for him was silly: he was a giant, fire-breathing beast. But she couldn’t forget the image from her dream—Weysh screeching as he fell from the sky. At last she grabbed the soft blanket off the bed and went searching for him. As he said, she found him curled up on the rooftop garden in dragon, his eyes closed and his large body moving up and down with his slow breaths.

  “Weh-sheh?” she called softly.

  He opened one glittering eye and let out a low, soothing rumble. Come.

  It was foolish. Yes, they were on a rooftop, but they were still outside—it would be so much easier for assassins to reach her here. But the notion that the Gunzu might be after her didn’t fill her with fear as perhaps it should; it filled her with fury, made her reckless and rebellious. Her whole life felt molded around them and this cursed alliance. With all her skills—runelore and tracking and battle—everything she’d learned and hoped to learn, was it truly her destiny to be nothing more than a link in her own shackle? She had hoped a year away might slake her thirst for freedom, but it only seemed to have made it worse. And right then she didn’t want to hide from Gunzu assassins; she wanted to be with Weysh. So she snuggled into the crook between his neck and shoulder, telling herself she would go back inside when her eyes began to droop. But she slept there until morning.

  Only a week after the attack, Yenni was growing weary of being chaperoned. Two weeks after, she was decidedly annoyed. Three weeks and she could no longer hide her irritation from her friends. It was even worse than her security back home, with Harth or Zui or Weysh or Diedre always waiting to shuffle her from place to place. She could take care of herself!

  But though the constant surveillance was driving her mad, she was also touched by how concerned everyone was for her safety. Zui was constantly late to other obligations because she wanted to see Yenni safely off. And Yenni knew much of her frustration came from feeling like she was a burden. She’d also heard back from her family, and as she’d feared, all their letters were tinged with worry, begging her to stick close to her friends and letting her know they were praying for her safety. Her mother and Dayo wrote nothing about the Gunzu—good, bad, or otherwise—and she took that as a positive sign.

  A pleasant side effect of being chaperoned was that she and Zui had been growing much closer. Yenni quite liked her and admired her demure strength. Still, her friends must have sensed her frustration. No doubt that was why Zui invited her and Diedre out to a nice tavern in the dragon district while they waited for Weysh to finish his classes and fly her home.

  The entrance to the tavern was an alcove high up in the middle of a tall building, and it could be reached only by flying. The three of them were mostly done a bottle of what the Creshens called white wine, and Yenni was finding it more and more difficult to resist gawking at the crowd of colorful people around them—many green, but some with skin of an orange hue, or deep blue, or even shimmery gold.

  Diedre was affected, too, if the way she kept sneaking looks at Zui was any indication. Curiously, whenever Zui was around, Diedre’s personality did a complete switch. She became shy and even coquettish in a way that left Yenni scratching her head in confusion.

  But drinking and chatting with them set Yenni at ease. It felt like three friends enjoying each other’s company, rather than two friends guarding one from attempted assassination. At least, Yenni hoped they were enjoying themselves. Who knew what responsibilities they were neglecting to be with her?

  “I am sorry to impose on you two like this,” she said, feeling suddenly ashamed.

  “Impose what?” said Diedre. “Listen, mams, I’m here because I want to be. Is two of us know you can more than protect yourself. If anything is you should be body-guardin’ for me.”

  “Yenni,” Zui began, “we’ve known each other only—let’s see, we’re just heading into third-quarter exams so—almost six moonturns now? And believe me, I say this out of kindness, but I’ve noticed you tend to take things on alone when you don’t need to. I can’t begin to imagine how it must feel to know someone out there wishes you harm. I know it would rattle me, and I’m dragokind.” She covered Yenni’s hand with hers. “I want you to know that you have my support.”

  “Same for me,” said Diedre.

  “I—thank you.” Yenni swallowed against a lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she had done for the Sha to bless her with such kind friends, but she was incredibly glad to have them. “It is not a good feeling knowing that someone wishes me dead,” she told them. “What’s worse is that I worry for my family and my tribe.” In the weeks since the attack, Yenni had confided her status as princess of the Yirba to both Harth and Zui. “I couldn’t bear it if they were in danger because of me. And—”

  “And what?” asked Zui.

  Yenni licked her lips. “I could not stand it if the petty judgments against me turned out to be true.”

  “Judgments like what, mams?”

  “Well, because I am a woman who enjoys hunting, and learning about runes, and learning about combat, people act as if I am strange and unnatural.”

  “Hmm,” Diedre and Zui said as one.

  “But it was once very common for women to do these things. You know what I think? I think it is everyone else who is unnatural.”

  “Yes!” cried Zui. “Who creates these arbitrary rules? A so-called friend of mine told me I couldn’t become an instructor at Prevan because I don’t spit fire like Creshen dragons.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous!” said Yenni.

  “Did you take them out back and give them some instruction?” asked Diedre.

  Zui laughed. “I wanted to, but instead I told them we would have to agree to disagree.”

  Diedre sighed. “Meh folks would say I’ll draw the eye of the Mistress of Demons practicin’ runelore.”

  Yenni shook her head. “I still do not understand why.”

  “Is what they were taught,” said Diedre, and she swigged her wine. “Still, is nowhere near what they would say if they knew—”

  She cut off, seeming to catch herself, and her light-brown cheeks flushed red.

  “What is it, Deedee?” asked Yenni.

  “Nothing to trouble yourself with, mams. Let’s talk about you. How are things with your dragon?”

  Yenni noted dimly that this wasn’t the first time Diedre had steered the conversation back to her and Weysh.

  “Things are quite well,” she said carefully. Nevertheless, she could hide nothing from Diedre.

  “I hearin’ a ‘but’ in there.”

  She was right. An awkward gulf had grown between her and Weysh, and she knew it was because she was keeping him at arm’s length. The only time all felt right was at night when, unable to stand cowering inside, she covered herself in runes and curled up beside him when he slept in dragon. But as a man, their conversations were filled with uncomfortable stutters and pregnant pauses, to the point where they’d begun to spend less time in each other’s company. Yenni would say she needed to study, and Weysh would go on long hunts in drag
on for wild boar, deer, or mountain cats—both of them desperate to escape the heaviness that seemed to hang above them like an impending storm.

  Zui and Diedre watched her with concern, and Yenni wrapped both hands around her wine glass. “I feel as if I’m being pulled in opposite directions. I very much care for Weh-sheh, more than I have for any man before, but how can I ignore the reality between us? I still have not written home about him.”

  Zui gave a sympathetic hum. “Is it because—” She shared a look with Diedre.

  Perhaps it was the wine, but abruptly Yenni’s frustration bubbled over. She slammed the table with her palm. “I am so tired of caring about appearances! Of feeling guilty and ashamed! Of catering to the fragile egos of others. I don’t want to marry Natahi! I want Weh-sheh,” she finished sadly.

  “Oh, Yenni,” said Zui, and squeezed Yenni’s hand. The mood at their table was a somber contrast to the colorful happy chatter and plucky harp music that surrounded them. Diedre sighed.

  “I know just how you feel, mams,” she said, staring into her wine glass. “I does wish every day there was some way I could be with Nannette.”

  Ah! Yenni burned with embarrassment. Here she was wallowing in her own sorrows and poor Diedre was stuck in the same dirt pit. She’d completely forgotten about Diedre’s forbidden paramour, but she so rarely mentioned him.

  “I’d always thought Nannette was a woman’s name,” Yenni mused. “There’s a Nannette in my Basics of Defensive Spellcasting class, but I suppose it is a name for a man as well.”

  Diedre looked up slowly, just her eyes, still clutching her wine glass. “No, it isn’t.”

  Yenni blinked, confused. “Are you saying your sweetheart is a woman?”

  Diedre only nodded.

  “Oh.”

  Oh.

  “That’s not common on the Isles, is it?” asked Zui, watching her closely.

  Yenni scrunched up her forehead in thought. “It happens, but it is not something anyone would freely admit, for fear of being ridiculed and shamed. Men cannot marry men, and women cannot marry women. Is that different here?”

  “No,” said Diedre. She gulped down the last dregs of her wine.

  “The only exception is dragonkind,” said Zui. “If two males or two females match as Given, well, that’s more important than anything. It’s rare, but it does happen.”

  Yenni sat back, flabbergasted. “But you told me Weh-sheh was handsome!”

  Diedre shrugged. “He is. I appreciate the beauty in men and women both.”

  “I see.” Yenni was floored. It was as if she were meeting Diedre all over again. Diedre watched her cautiously—no, fearfully—across the table, her face pinched and tense, and Yenni found she didn’t like her friend looking at her like that at all. It sent a sad ache through her heart.

  “Stop it, Deedee,” she said softly. “This changes nothing between us. You are my dear friend.”

  The relief that flooded Diedre’s features flowed, warm and golden, through Yenni as well, and the tautness that stretched between them relaxed. Diedre had supported Yenni since they first met. She’d cheered her up, even saved her life. She had been a true friend to Yenni, so now Yenni would be a true friend to her. Zui clapped her hands together, grinning at them.

  “But if you love both men and women, why not simply marry a man to make your family happy?” asked Yenni.

  The smile dropped from Diedre’s face.

  “Oh, I have said something foolish, haven’t I?”

  “This from you of all people? Why not marry your prince, same way? I fell for Nannette, and Nannette is a woman, but more important, she understands me.”

  Yenni cringed; Diedre was right. “Sorry, Deedee.”

  “No foul, mams, I think you get the picture now. But at least you two are Given, there must be some kind of way to make it work. If there is even a small chance, you should take it. I would,” she finished softly.

  Yenni took Diedre’s hand, offering and receiving comfort. Zui hailed for another bottle of wine, and the three of them settled into lighter chatter: which professors they liked and disliked, and plans for the upcoming break. And though Yenni still wasn’t sure what to do about Weysh, just talking about it helped her feel better, free of something heavy and straining. For the rest of the evening she simply reveled in the warmth of the alcohol flowing through her veins, and of conversation with good friends.

  Third quarter exams came and went, and after furious weeks of revision Yenni was once more in the clear, having passed everything. One morning, shortly after the last semester of classes had started, Yenni woke to Weysh shaking her. She bolted up, instinctively pulling on her runes and scanning the green rooftop.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I can smell you.”

  He proceeded to snuffle around her neck and shoulders.

  She slapped at him. “Weh-sheh!” she said, and burst into a fit of relieved giggles.

  He drew back. “What?”

  “Why are you sniffing me like a hound, you strange creature?”

  He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Ah, sorry, lovely. But I think Healer Veronique’s medicine is finally working!”

  Yenni beamed. It was the most animated she’d seen him in a while. She rose up on her knees and hugged him. “I’m glad.”

  “Me too. Like you can’t imagine.” He gave her a tight squeeze, all propriety abandoned, and it felt like before, like the night he’d taken her out to the restaurant on the docks, or the night they’d kissed under the moon. They hugged for long moments, absorbing the feel of each other, Yenni listening to the sound of Weysh’s deep, searching breaths, until, inevitably, he let her go.

  “All right, my heart. Where am I flying you today?”

  “Why don’t we walk instead?”

  While she loved flying with him, Yenni missed talking with Weysh. He’d been so melancholy lately, but today it seemed his high spirits might have returned.

  “If you’d like. But if that’s the case we’d better leave soon, en?”

  About an hour later they were trudging through the Rearwood on their way to the academy. Weysh seemed oblivious to Yenni’s apprehension. Forests had always been mysterious places to her, the realm of beasts and spirits. Curiously, the Creshens seemed to find them charming and romantic. Either way, cutting through the Rearwood was the fastest way to get where they were going, and they weren’t the only ones taking the shortcut. Other students occasionally overtook them on the forest path. So she did her best to focus on Weysh rather than the nervous prickling on the back of her neck.

  “Let’s go to Suli’s tonight,” he was saying. “I might be able to actually taste something this time.”

  Yenni spied a cluster of bright-blue, bell-shaped flowers and wandered over to pick one. It had a wonderful soft fragrance. “Can you smell this?” she said, turning back to him.

  But he was gone.

  Yenni spun around, her heart pounding. There was no one in sight, and no sound but chirping birds.

  “Weh-sheh?” she yelled. She dropped the flower and held her spear out in front of her. “Weh-sheh!”

  “YENNI!” he yelled back from somewhere down the forest path. Yenni shot off after the sound of his voice.

  “Weh-sheh!”

  “Yenni!” he called back, fainter this time. She stopped, trying to place him. His voice was coming from somewhere in the woods, off the path. Sure enough, up ahead she saw a spot where the trees had been disturbed, the ground stirred up by large, dragging footprints.

  She ignored her tracker’s instincts, pulling on her speed runes and crashing through the scrub and branches. At the moment it was far more important to get to Weysh than to be stealthy. Her heart seemed to race faster than her frantic steps. What was going on? Why did he not change to Dragon?

  At last she came to a clearing—a tiny
spot of grass and wildflowers surrounded by thick trunks and a shivering umbrella of greenery overhead. She spun, looking for some clue as to where he could have gone, but she saw no footprints, no broken branches, nothing to indicate where to go. She cursed herself for not painting a focus rune across her eyes, but the shocked and scared looks she received from Creshens when she did had become so tiresome, and she had been with Weysh besides.

  “Weh-sheh!” she shouted again.

  Her answer was a pinch of pain on her stomach.

  Yenni dropped into tortoise stance to defend herself and held her spear in front of her. A familiar, wooden clacking echoed through the clearing, and Yenni gasped. Cold sweat slid down the side of her face.

  Oh divine Mothers and Fathers, not this.

  She wondered if she was having another dream as out of the trees of the Creshen forest, tall, dark, and horribly surreal, stepped a rune puppet.

  35

  It loomed, and was made completely of blackwood, with its pointed face ringed in straw. The thing’s movements were jerky and inhuman, but that didn’t fool Yenni. In the hands of a skilled puppeteer, rune puppets made for deadly assassins. Designed to mimic fearsome and powerful spirits, rune puppets were historically employed during wars between the Islands to mask the identity of a killer and thus sow political unrest.

  However, as the puppet stared at her through yellow-painted eyes, its jangly arms clacking, Yenni knew it was not meant to mask her attacker, but confirm them. If it’s war you want, it’s war you’ll get, it seemed to say.

  The rune puppet slowly approached, holding aloft a wicked short sword and clacking with each twitching step. Every inch of it was covered in white runes: wards against all the elements plus speed, strength, runes for animation, and many others. Yenni backed up, keeping her spear pointed forward. The puppet couldn’t use offensive runes like fire or lightning without damaging itself, since an inanimate creation wasn’t protected by what the Creshens called the Law of Self-Preservation. That, at least, she had to her advantage.