by Jess Granger
“If we stay here?” Her voice hitched high in disbelief. “We are not staying. As soon as the Union hears my distress signal, they will come and rescue us.”
“Cyani, it’s been five days now.”
“It has only been five days,” she snapped. “We’re not staying here.”
“What if we don’t have a choice?” He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, then let his warm palms slide down her bare arms.
What if he was right? What would she do if the Union never heard the distress signal? She didn’t want to think about that.
“Why aren’t you getting sick?” she asked. The question had been bothering her for a couple of days now, and she needed to change the subject. He still had violet in his eyes, which meant the drugs were still in his system, but he should’ve been getting fevers by now, shouldn’t he? Maybe if he realized he’d die here, he’d feel more urgency to leave.
“Must be the kiltii water.” He shrugged.
“Are you sure?” The knot of uncertainty tightened in her stomach.
Vicca trotted in the door with a large locust in her mouth. Cyani scooped her up, and pet her ears as she moved to the hammock to try to hold back the crushing claustrophobia that had suddenly gripped her.
“I can’t do this, Soren. I can’t bond with you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” he said. He touched the kiltii vine that now covered the walls of half the hut, had grown up into the grass thatching, and draped across the floor.
“That’s what you said. You said I would be bound to you. What do you think this ceremony is?” she demanded.
“It isn’t even marriage to the people here, Cyani. It is only a promise to remain together for a time and see what happens.” He plucked a few spent blossoms and rubbed their petals between his fingers to release their cleansing scent. “Isn’t that what we are doing now?”
“I don’t know what we are doing now, but I know what it means to bond to you and I can’t do it. I just can’t. I can’t bear that weight. We have to stop this, Soren. We are walking on the edge of a very thin blade.”
Soren crossed his arms and exhaled as he dropped his gaze to his bed.
“If you bond to me, then what?” Cyani asked. “Then if something happens to me, you die. I can’t live like that.”
“Like what? Like you have something to live for? You are so quick to throw yourself toward death.”
“I’m free to do what I need to do,” she protested.
“You’re not free.” His voice boomed in their small home.
“If I’m forced to bond to you, I won’t be.”
An uneasy silence fell between them as Soren’s eyes slowly turned black. What was she supposed to do? Finally she broke the silence because she couldn’t bear the weight of it. “I’ll be chained to you, and if we finally make it out of this lack-tech pit, then I’m the one who will bear the consequences. If you die, it will be my fault,” she stated, her voice sounding hard, even to her ears. “My fault,” she repeated in a softer tone.
Soren crossed the room and eased into the hammock next to her. She refused to look at him. He stroked Vicca’s ears as the fox snuggled between them.
“You should go through this ceremony with one of these women,” she mumbled. “They’re clearly interested in you. They can bond with you. You’ll be safe.”
“I don’t want them,” he said, leaning in to her shoulder. “Makkolen women would not be able to accept my need for them. If one wanted to leave the bond, I couldn’t let her go.”
“What about me?” she said as she squeezed to the edge of the hammock. “Could you let me go?”
He didn’t answer.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“Dance for me, Cyani.” Soren touched her chin with his fingertip and gently lifted her face to his. “It is the only way to keep you safe. After that, I will go out onto the savannah with you, and we’ll try to make the beacon work.”
“But what about the bond?”
He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on her forehead then looked her directly in the eye.
“I swear to you. I won’t chain you.” He smoothed her hair again. It was a tender caress she found comforting. He paused. His voice sounded soft when he continued. “Whatever our future holds, you will have a choice. I will give you a choice.”
He promised her freedom, a choice. A small ugly voice whispered in the back of her mind: What price would they have to pay?
13
THE DRUMS, THEY CALLED TO HER. SHE COULD FEEL THEIR PULSE DANCING with the beat of her heart. She could hear their rhythmic seduction. The Lankana was upon her.
The last few days had passed by too quickly. Soren hadn’t left her side the entire time. He tried to make his presence seem less imposing, but while it comforted her to have him so near, it only reinforced her gut feeling. She was trapped.
She had to do what she had to do. She’d go out and dance, then take the necklace and retreat back to the hut and go to sleep like any other night. She had to get it over with as fast as possible.
Apparently, tradition dictated that she wear her hair up off her neck, twisted and pinned by two sticks with dangling beads attached. She didn’t have a problem with that. She had a problem with the rest of the traditional garb. Her woven bodice had been bad enough. The bloodred leather one she now donned practically became her skin as it dipped so low she worried about falling out of it. And she had no chance of covering her belly with the low-slung fiery skirt. She’d be lucky if it stayed on her hips at all, and without a head scarf to tie up between her legs, she had a sinking feeling she’d end up flashing her most intimate places to the entire tribe. She felt the flush of embarrassment color her cheeks.
But the drums, she couldn’t get the pulsing beat out of her mind. It enthralled her as she stared at the glittering blanket of stars above.
This night wasn’t like any other night. She had to be strong, or she would succumb to it.
From the dark shadows of the women’s house, she could smell the rich, spicy smoke of the great bonfires raging in the open area between the two halls. Focus, she needed to focus on the things she could control.
Tonight she’d be free.
Tonight I will be bound.
“Nervous?” Lai asked, placing her palm on Cyani’s shoulder.
Cyani turned to look at the queen. “No.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
Cyani crossed her arms over the tight leather that bound her breasts, and tucked her fingers into the crooks of each elbow to still them.
“You have no reason to be anxious, Cyani. You dance beautifully.” The queen turned to walk away as Cyani looked back out at the clearing. The shadows of men and women formed a circle around the altar. It had been dressed with fur and cloth.
Fire burned from the tops of phallic poles circling the shrine, while long flags of shimmering red cloth undulated in the hot breeze.
“Lai?” Cyani called. The queen looked back over her shoulder. “What is that for?” she asked, pointing at the altar.
One of the queen’s elegant brows lowered in a puzzled expression.
“It would be best for you to put it out of your mind. Try to enjoy this night.” The queen smiled a motherly smile and continued to the other side of the house.
Like the low rumble of thunder, deep chanting voices rose up in chorus with the pounding drums. The men called out to them, luring them from the safety of the women’s house. Part of her wanted to rush out into the night and abandon herself to the wild call, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t know if the feeling was real, and she couldn’t just let go even if it was.
Do what you have to do, that is all.
Cyani glanced over the fifteen other women who would be dancing that night. All the other women of the tribe remained safely tucked in the arms of the man whose necklace they wore, the arms of the man whose child they carried, or nursed. She would never know that unity.
Ang
ry at herself and her rebellious longing to fit in with the tribe, she tugged at a lock of her twisted hair and let her hand linger on the exposed skin of her bare neck. In truth, the tribe had been far more welcoming than her own people. They had gone out of their way to make her feel like she was a part of them.
Tonight she would be a part of them. She’d wear a necklace, Soren’s necklace, his mark. Part of him would touch her, wrapped around her vulnerable neck. She could feel her own racing pulse beneath her fingertips. What if he was right? What if the Union never heard her call?
This world, this bond, she’d have to live with it. She’d have to survive.
The drums picked up their rhythm, pounding as urgently as her conflicted heart.
The queen walked toward the simmering cauldron in the center of the room. With one hand, she dipped a small clay bowl in the hot liquid then plucked a delicate white blossom from the vines. She dropped it into the bowl and held it aloft. “To new life and our greatest power,” she toasted, then took a deep drink and passed it on.
As the other young women drank, the queen began to sing, her husky voice filling the room with words Cyani’s com could not translate. It didn’t have to. Somehow Cyani knew what this song meant.
As each finished their draught, they joined in the song. The clear ringing voices of the women danced over the low and suggestive words of the men outside.
Cyani felt a shiver race up her spine as she took a drink, then handed the bowl back to the queen.
“It is time,” Lai announced.
Cyani’s heart dropped down into her toes, as the other young women rushed out of the room in a flurry of shimmering red skirts and warm dark skin.
She balked in the doorway, unable to take the next step forward, a step into an uncertain future.
Steeling her nerves and swallowing her terror, she stepped out into the burning night.
The fires blazed on either side of the altar, casting the dancing women in the hot glow of writhing flame.
Where was Soren?
Panic grasped her throat as she spun around, searching the faces of the seated men in the circle while the women twirled around her. Their skirts caught up in the motion and flared out, licking their legs like tongues of flame.
Where is he?
Cyani turned on her heel and caught sight of two glowing blue violet eyes on the far side of the circle.
Her head spinning with relief, she ran around the altar and faced Soren. He wore a bemused expression as he took a long drink from a deep bowl and stared at her without a word. A very intricate web of dark beads hung around his neck, tapering down to a single bead, carved to look like the flowers on her tattoo. It was beautiful.
Suddenly Cyani felt very conscious of the night air touching her exposed skin. A chill slithered down her back as she brought her hand over her navel and began to dance.
Foot down, clap, turn, hands up, meticulously she performed the motions Lai had taught her. She just needed to make it through the ceremony and all of this would be over. She could go to sleep, and in the morning, she’d redouble her efforts to contact the Union. Soren had promised.
I’ll sleep in his arms, under his thrall, dreaming of his skin touching mine, his kiss lingering on the tender place beneath my ear.
Cyani shook her head and realized she had stopped moving. With a quick rush of motion, she finished the last steps of the dance and stood before Soren.
With her heart pounding, she waited.
He didn’t move.
“Soren?” She took a step toward him, but he just cocked his head to the side and smiled at her. “Aren’t you supposed to give me the necklace now?” she asked. Had she forgotten part of the ritual?
“I’ll give you the necklace when I see you dance.”
“You son of an ill-bred mud worm,” she hissed at him.
He laughed and crossed his arms.
“Dance for me, Cyani,” he challenged.
She burned. She could feel the rushing heat of her anger and her humiliation rising in her blood, even as the touch of the bonfire behind her seeped into her skin. He wanted her to dance?
She’d dance.
She stomped her foot into the sand and slowly lowered her center as her arms snaked out to her sides. It was the beginning of the Ahora malka, the seduction of the tiger.
She would make him writhe.
Her body entered into the training ritual with a will of its own, the motions meant to teach smooth death strikes with wrist blades. She turned it into something different, something alive, something as beautiful and treacherous as the tiger itself.
She spun and let her muscles flow, her body open. She could feel the night air kiss the inside of her thighs, cool her heated core.
She became the beast, the Xalen tiger he often reminded her of. No, she was the tigress, his mate.
She could feel the electric tingle in her skin as she swayed toward him. She remembered how shocking his touch had been when he first reached out to her. Now she needed it. Was she addicted to him?
Did it matter anymore?
She remembered the first time he had kissed her. She had been helpless, terrified as he healed her paralyzed body with his potent embrace.
Her body spun and leapt. It knew the motions; they had become instinct. What other instincts had she denied herself for so long? Her body radiated with a new sense of power, a feminine awareness of her ability to enthrall, to create new life and beauty.
She thought about how she felt during the storm, raw and exposed, unclean from the mud and her own guilt.
He had washed it away as completely as the drenching rain could, and she had kissed him for it. Now she felt the call, the seduction of her deepest, most secret strength. The strength of her love, the strength of her freedom.
She locked her gaze on his as she stalked toward him with fluid grace. His dark eyes blazed with the violet passion he tried to leash for her.
If only he knew how much she longed to free it, to free him completely. If only he knew how free she felt with him.
She spun and whipped the sticks out of her hair. She heard a collective gasp as her hair tumbled down over her back. She shook her wild mane free and smiled at Soren.
He stood.
With the mysterious blue burning bright in his eyes, he slowly stepped toward her, lifting the necklace over his head.
She felt drained all of a sudden, and her knees almost gave out as he placed the necklace around her neck. It nestled against her skin as if it knew where it belonged. She ran her fingers along its edge, and looked up at Soren.
“You dance beautifully,” he whispered near her ear as he pulled her into his body.
She trailed a hand over his bare neck as he leaned in to kiss her.
The crowd around them erupted in cheers, and Cyani broke away in shock, suddenly aware of their situation.
Soren laughed as he escorted her out of the circle, and let her settle down in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her as she leaned back against his smooth chest.
A little part of her felt a stirring of pride as she watched the rest of the dancers sway in the flickering light of the fires.
“Drink this.” Soren handed her the bowl he had been drinking from earlier.
She gratefully lifted it to her lips and took a deep drink. The cool, tangy-sweet liquid burned down her throat.
She felt her eyes water and coughed in shock.
“This is not kiltii water!”
Soren laughed again. “No, no it is not.” He nudged the bowl, and with a smile, Cyani took another drink.
She wasn’t supposed to partake in intoxicants of any kind, but as the rich and slightly spiced wine began to loosen her muscles, she acknowledged she’d been doing a lot of things she shouldn’t lately. The blood of Cyrila the Rebel wouldn’t be ignored. She rubbed the scars on the backs of her thighs.
Perhaps a little freedom was the sweetest revenge.
“So what happens now?” she asked Soren.
As if to answer her question, the queen appeared out of the women’s house. A breeze picked up, ruffling her skirt around her ankles.
The crowd hushed in anticipation, and the last of the dancers took their places with the men whose necklaces they earned. The king stood and took two steps closer to the queen.
She smiled at him. The look of love shining on her face radiated brighter than the fires. Cyani inhaled and found herself holding her breath as the queen began to dance.
It was mesmerizing to watch. While the younger women clearly tried to seduce, the queen’s dance said something more. It was about strength, honor, and love. It spoke of intimate knowledge of one other, and the sharing of that life through good, through bad, through joy and pain. Cyani had no doubt why the king still kept Lai as his queen, even though it seemed her childbearing years were waning.
“Is she the only one allowed to dance for him?” Cyani asked, fascinated by the playful smiles flitting between the two lovers.
“No, but the others don’t dare. They know he will only give his necklace to her. They have been together for many years. They are considered an exclusive couple, for lack of a better word, truly married.”
“So he is the only man she has ever loved?”
“No, her two oldest children have different fathers. She is the only woman he has ever given his necklace to. It took him a while to convince her to dance for him.” Soren pressed his lips against Cyani’s shoulder. She could feel his warm breath flow over her collarbone and she shivered with the unspoken promise of the caress.
She spared a glance for Kaln and his two oldest sisters, but they had all busied themselves with their newfound mates. It seemed they didn’t want to look at their parents’ affection. Cyani giggled. She knew that feeling. Even in the darkest of shadows, her parents sought out each other’s touch.
She found the habit mortifying and comforting at the same time. She had only been a child. Now she knew the depth of the dedication her parents had for one another. She could understand it. She hadn’t thought about it in years. It was as if the small bits of good in her dark childhood had been locked away in the back of her mind.