Machrus huffed out an annoyed breath, wrapping the cloth about her shoulders, whether due to the cold or in protection of her modesty she was not sure. She grasped the edges gratefully all the same. “They have embarrassed you, intentionally or not. You are meant to feel safe here.”
She reached out and touched his hand, fighting down her own mortification. “I do,” she insisted. She had never felt more so in her entire life. “I just... that’s... that’s ours,” she tried to explain, finding her words wholly inadequate in describing all that she had felt with him. All that it meant to her.
Back in the Wastes, she knew that Max had boasted of his conquest, the meaningful looks she’d received from some of his friends the only confirmation she’d needed. And later, there was no denying the truth of it as her stomach had grown too pronounced to hide any longer. Her mistake had been fuel for gossip, her indignity lauded and discussed openly, and she could not bear for that to happen again.
She did not think Machrus’s family was malicious, that their teases would be anything but good-natured, but even so...
This was private. And she did not want them to see her in such a state of undress.
“Ours,” Machrus confirmed. “However,” he continued, tugging at her covering, bringing her closer, the teasing glint back in his eye, though a hint of seriousness remained. “I cannot promise that they will not realise that something has transpired. I have no desire to... to be as remote as I once was.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I don’t want that either,” she confessed, not quite meeting his eye. She took a deep breath. Could she trust them? Trust him to know what to share and what to keep hidden?
She looked at him, saw his concern for her, remembered how tenderly he had treated her body, so completely different than what she’d experienced before.
“I’m worrying about nothing, aren’t I?”
This wasn’t the same. This relationship, these people, they weren’t what she’d known before.
His hand was gentle as he urged her to look at him. “They only want our happiness,” he hedged, giving all the answer she needed.
Her first impulses were not always right. Her reactions were the product of her past, scars that had never truly healed. That did not make them right, did not make them true, and she would not allow them to dictate the relationship she had with the Marzon people. With his family.
“Maybe we should dress,” she suggested, a knot of worry releasing at her determination.
“I do not think maybe is required in that statement,” her husband answered drily. “As I have previously stated, any public nudity will be occurring quite on your own.” He leaned down, his lips at her ear. “Though I would very much enjoy the view.”
She opened her mouth, whether to chastise him or give a mischievous remark of her own she could not readily say. But then he moved, pressing an all too quick kiss upon her heated cheek before he strode toward the bedroom to dress—looking far more comfortable with his nakedness than was reasonable.
And all she could do was follow, shaking her head all the while.
The origin of the scraping sound was evident as soon as Machrus opened the door. There was no more snow pile pushing its way into the house, the beginnings of a pathway carefully being constructed, men with large scooping tools still fortifying the new trail.
Renna had expected to see one of Machrus’s brothers, perhaps, but she was unprepared for all of them to be labouring. Even Sladec was laughing amiably with the others as he hoisted heavy shovels of snow and packed it neatly to the sides. Their wives were seated on thick blankets, watching them in amusement, their attention drifting to the open doorway as Machrus stepped out.
While dressing, he had insisted she don an almost laughable amount of layers. At first she had been certain he jested, but the bond confirmed his seriousness.
“Three pairs of leggings?” she asked incredulously, absolutely certain that he had caught some of her delirium from days before. Pity it should choose to manifest now.
Yet he nodded determinedly. “And an equal amount of socks.”
She had made to argue for he was being so completely ridiculous, but he’d threatened to bar the door entirely, regardless of his family beyond, and it was the risk of such rudeness that made her relent.
But now that the door was open and she was reminded how utterly cold it was beyond the thick walls of Machrus’s home, she was begrudgingly thankful for his insistence. The knowing look he gave her indicated he had not missed her brief flash of gratitude. She huffed—there was no need to gloat.
“Brother!” Lorken called, swinging his tool over his shoulder. A wide smile played at his lips, his steps sure even through the lingering snow. “We feared you might never come out!”
Machrus rolled his eyes. “You feared I would make you tend to all this mess by yourselves,” he corrected. Renna glanced at him worriedly, his tone almost discourteous, but there was no denying the exasperated affection that trickled through the bond.
“Quite right,” Lorken agreed amiably, holding out his spade. Or at least, she thought it was a spade. It was much finer than anything they’d managed to craft in the Wastes, but the use was about the same.
Machrus ignored him, turning to Renna instead. “Would you like to sit with my sisters? Or should I invite them in?” His tone suggested he would prefer she remain tucked up inside, but his eyes strayed to their less than tidy bed, still mussed from their earlier activities.
She ducked her head. There was no reason to be embarrassed, but there was nothing wrong with a little privacy and discretion either. “I would like some fresh air, I think,” she decided, partly for the sake of hiding the current state of her marriage bed, but also because it was true. She was used to long hours spent outdoors, and while she enjoyed many aspects of the last few days hidden away with Machrus, she did long for at least a small amount of time in the crisp, clean air.
Machrus did not argue, but she did not doubt he would be checking on her often, whether through the bond or more directly.
Before she could wonder how she would reach the waiting women without any boots to keep her feet dry, Machrus scooped her up into his arms, brushing past his brother with a rather pointed look. Lorken chuckled and shook his head, withdrawing his hand and spade as he gave her an easy grin. She’d never had a brother, not that she remembered anyway, so she supposed this was simply their way. All exasperation and teases, equal measures of glowers and grins.
She smiled back timidly as they passed his other brothers. It was oddly touching to her that they were all here, all working so hard when surely there were other, less important folk they could have asked to master the snow.
Herself for example.
But none made any attempt to hand her a spade of her own, though Sladec eyed her curiously in Machrus’s arms. “Where are your boots, Renna?” he asked as Machrus began manoeuvring the higher part of the drift.
Renna gave Machrus a panicked look. She hadn’t thought about explaining her foolishness to his family, hadn’t considered that they might reach the same terrible conclusion that he had. She didn’t want them thinking that of her, but more importantly, didn’t want them to place sole blame onto him for her previous unhappiness. Yet she also had no desire to lie.
Machrus gave her an encouraging squeeze and flooded the bond with comfort. She took that as confirmation that truthfulness was acceptable, or at least, a small part of it.
She sighed, fidgeting a little. “I... I lost them,” she answered hesitantly, already bracing herself for his reaction. That confession would have been met with severe rebuke in the Wastes. There was no such room for carelessness, the loss of shoes and clothing felt by all. And the new boots given to her by the Marzon had been new, not the worn-through castoffs of one who no longer had need of them. Guilt gave her stomach an unpleasant tug.
But Sladec did not castigate her, did not frown in disapproval at her mistake. He only shook his head, clicking his tongue slightly. “Th
en we shall have to bring you new ones,” he declared easily. A lump settled in her throat as his eyes flicked toward her escort. “Unless you prefer this mode of transport?”
At home, such teasing would not have been good-natured. It would have been almost a criticism, especially given her previous relationship—was that even the proper word for what she’d had?—but coming from Sladec...
He was kind where her people had been harsh, his brothers were generous while her people tended to keep only to themselves. Unless directly ordered otherwise, of course. Perhaps they were here solely for Machrus’s benefit, to help him manage the snows just as they would have done even if she had not been here. But from their smiles, from the approving looks they gave her settled as she was in Machrus’s arms, she began to feel that perhaps they were here for her as well.
She didn’t know what came over her. But instead of blushing, of stuttering in discomfort, she found herself sinking further against her husband. She must be overwhelmed. That was all, and that’s why her fears abated and her worries calmed.
“I am rather fond of it, yes,” she admitted, far more easily than she thought possible. Machrus looked down, surprise flitting through the bond, and she smiled at him. He grinned back, effortless and without care. He did not mind that his family would know that their marriage had grown.
And she would not either.
Sladec watched them both for a moment. If he was surprised at the exchange, he did not show it, his eyes finally settling on his brother as he regarded him thoughtfully. She did not know if there was an aspect of the bond she had yet to understand that enabled their silent communications, or perhaps it was merely long years spent together in boyhood that made words unnecessary. But Sladec was suddenly smiling, a little mischievous. It made him appear young. Not that he ever seemed old exactly, but there was an ageless quality to the Marzon that made their ages somewhat difficult to determine.
But that smile, there was no mistaking the boy he had been, the eldest of his brothers, yes, but still a boy. “Are you satisfied, Dundrel?” he called out, Renna peeping over Machrus’s shoulder to the brother who had kept working all the while. “It seems our brother has found a proper wife after all.”
The man paused, eyeing them briefly, before he returned to his scooping. “Do not announce it so, Sladec,” Dundrel chided. “You will make our sister uncomfortable.”
Sladec turned back to her, his smile now apologetic. “I do not mean to offend,” he offered sincerely. “But you do not know how I worried that I had chosen wrongly.”
It was not a confession she would have expected from him. The leaders back in the colony rarely acknowledged their mistakes, let alone their doubts. When a decision was made, it was final, and they maintained a united front regardless of dissention in the rest of the colony.
Sladec was the sanmir, sole leader of all the Marzon, yet he could so freely speak of his worry for his brother. None of this was as she expected.
He glanced at Machrus. “I doubt you will vocally acknowledge that I was right to have urged you, however.”
Machrus shifted her in his arms. She did not bother to worry she was too heavy for him—there was nothing resembling fatigue slipping through the bond. It was almost as if he was hugging her to him, not merely carrying her across a difficult path for the sake of her cold feet.
“Stating the obvious would be tedious,” he said in answer, carrying her toward the waiting women, Sladec’s laugh echoing behind them.
“Renna,” Adelmar greeted warmly, patting a space next to her. “You are most welcome to join us.”
Machrus set her down carefully before standing. He stood, eyeing her rather dubiously, and she shook her head, already supposing his hesitation. “You do not need to fetch me a blanket,” she insisted, rubbing at her thickly covered legs. “All warm.”
He grunted, not quite believing her, and she readied for him to ignore her protests and fetch one in any case, but instead he merely held out his hand. She blinked at it, not certain what he could want. He couldn’t mean to help her to stand after just depositing her here.
Its meaning coming slowly, but when she realised, she hastened to wrap her forefinger about his, her cheeks flushed from her forgetfulness, and she felt his amusement and contentment through the bond. “You will inform me if you become cold.” It was not a question.
She suppressed a roll of her eyes, though just barely. He acted as though she would soon forget what had transpired if he did not remind her. She had been the one to suffer through the pains as her limbs thawed, and that was not something she would soon forget. But she would be gentle with him, until her patience was no more, then she would try a bit of firmness. But not yet. “I will,” she assured him, and he accepted her promise with a nod, turning to presumably go help his brothers.
She waited for them to interrogate her, for the prying questions to begin. She plucked at her sleeve nervously. She could feel their eyes on her, and she bit her lip, uncertain what she should say. Was she meant to speak first?
“You lost your boots?” Adelmar said at last, looking at her woollen feet.
Renna nodded, suddenly uncertain of how to proceed. She had determined that she did not want to lie to these people, to Machrus’s family, but it still worried her how news of what had happened would be taken. She wouldn’t have any of them thinking poorly of Machrus, but she knew that her choices also reflected badly on herself.
She looked at each of the women briefly, considering. Naida kept her eyes carefully averted. She was bundled up even more so than Renna, and she wondered if Rochlere had been as insistent as Machrus or if the other woman had been the one to choose so many layers. Edlyn and Adelmar eyed her placidly, while Marella reached out and patted her hand, evidently thinking she needed some encouragement.
She wondered at the different cultures these women came from. None seemed quite as different as Naida, but she supposed that might not be true. Perhaps they had simply adapted more, had surrendered more fully to the Marzon ways, leaving their past customs behind.
Renna wanted that. She wanted to be more open. She wanted kindness to be expected, for easy smiles and consideration to be anticipated rather than scorn. It was not that she thought her people bad exactly, but she hoped they would soften soon—would realise that the ways they had been forced to adopt in the Wastes were no longer necessary. She still wanted to see what had become of them, how they fared, what they had built. They were a part of her and always would be, even if...
Even if she wanted to belong with the people around her even more.
So she took a steadying breath and told the truth.
Of feeling so trapped and unhappy when she thought that Machrus could not loved her.
Of finding such solace in the deceptive snows.
Of Machrus finding her, and how her poor boots had been lost.
At that she could not immediately continue, feeling the need to apologise to Adelmar directly, remembering she had been the one to bring them in the first place. “I didn’t think to grab them once he took them off, so they’re buried somewhere out there.” She sighed, wondering if she could ask to borrow one of the spades and look for them. “I’m very sorry. I was careless, and I’m sure they were valuable.”
The woman looked over at Machrus, a frown on her face. Renna waited, already wanting to intervene for his sake, but she told herself to calm, to wait.
“You seem to suffer some misapprehension, Renna,” Adelmar said at last. “The boots are of little matter and are easily replaced. I am far more concerned about what led you to such an action, and how you fare now.”
Unease prickled at her, and she tried to make light of the ordeal, wriggling her fingers. “Everything works, see? No lasting harm done.” At Adelmar’s look, she sighed again, growing more serious. “Machrus still worries about me. I was... sick, after, and it was... difficult for him.” She suppressed a wince at her own choice of word, remembering the scornful way he’d derided the use of it before
.
Adelmar nodded, appearing pleased at that fact. “As right it should have been.”
Renna’s stomach twisted. “Don’t say that, please. It... I can’t say that I’m sorry about the outcome, because I’m not. But... he didn’t deserve that. Not after everything. It hurt him, and I would like to think that you’re the kind of family that would find that terrible.”
Adelmar looked surprised before her eyes widened in understanding. “You mistake me, Renna. I am not glad that he felt pain. Never that. We have hoped for many years that he would feel something other than sorrow and heartache. But when he was so... closed when first you came, we had feared that he would not soften at all.” She grimaced. “He can be stubborn, as I am certain you are aware.”
There was no point in denying that, so she nodded, a little rueful. “I just... we’re happy now. You don’t have to give him a hard time about the past, that’s all.”
Adelmar looked at her for a long moment, seemingly considering something. When she stood, Renna was worried she’d been wrong, that a blunter approach to honesty was exactly the wrong thing to do. But Adelmar patted her shoulder as she passed, walking toward the men, her steps sure even in the snow.
Renna tried not to be jealous of her natural grace, certain that if given the opportunity she would trip within the first few steps.
She remembered how different the ground felt when first she’d stepped onto it after their escape of the Wastes. No longer the sands she was so used to, not even the occasional rock that broke the unending surface of golden granules. Hard packs of dirt had met them, brown and perfectly ordinary to any other on this planet, but not to her. Not to her people. But she was beginning to grow used to dirt and grass, and she supposed if snow lasted a long time, she would learn to navigate that as well.
She watched nervously as Adelmar approached Machrus. He’d retrieved a spade of his own and was working equally hard as the rest of them, though she saw Lorken use his own scoop to rain snow down on his unsuspecting brother. Despite her worries, Renna found herself smiling, Edlyn giving an exasperated sigh, though she could not fully hide her amusement at her husband’s antics. However, Lorken stilled as Adelmar drew nearer, Machrus halting his own retaliation once he caught sight of her.
Trade (Deridia Book 2) Page 35