So far, Nadiwani has only mentioned my head injury and fever. There was no mention of anything or anyone else. I know Nadiwani; if she discovered the truth, she would not be able to contain it.
It must have been Ithua who tended to me then. If she noticed, she would not say anything except to me personally. Other than that, everyone thinks it was an accident and will go on thinking that as long as I do not say otherwise.
Adia felt an immediate sense of relief. For now, she had time to figure out how to respond to what Khon’Tor had done to her.
Acaraho had duly noted that Adia broke eye contact with him before she answered his questions about what had happened and what she remembered. He also realized she had given only the most mundane, neutral answers. There was not one thing she had said that told them any more than they already knew.
There should have been at least some pieces of new information in her answer, but there was not one. Adia was holding back, but why?
As requested, Nadiwani sent word to Khon’Tor that Adia had come around. Khon’Tor received the message and dismissed the messenger. He sat unmoving for a while, a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. That a complement of guards had not come to arrest him meant she had not told them what he did. But why not? Why would she not tell them what he had done to her?
He knew he would have to go to her directly to find out.
Each day, Adia became a little stronger. She was able to hold and care for Oh'Dar. Her headaches were getting better. Her other minor cuts and scrapes, treated early on by Nadiwani, had all healed. Satisfied with Adia’s progress, Ithua and Is’Taqa returned to their tribe of the Brothers. Adia remembered to give them the basket of gifts she had collected in return for the skins and wrappings they had brought for Oh’Dar against the cold weather that was now upon them.
It had been three days since Khon’Tor was notified that Adia was awake. He knew it had gone on too long, not going to see her before now. He could not let another day go by. Because he needed permission to enter the Healer’s Quarters, he let them know he was on his way.
Adia had been told that Khon’Tor was coming to see her. The Leader of the People; the powerful, towering male who angrily struck me to the ground, then violated me in my helpless and injured state, and afterward walked away, leaving me to die, is coming to visit me to see how I am doing. How thoughtful.
She thought she had prepared herself for this, but now the moment was upon her, Adia was not sure she was ready.
She had also thought many times about telling the others what he had done. She did not think they would disbelieve her. But she could not decide if the call for justice to be served was worth the terrible consequences that would ensue from revealing Khon’Tor’s crimes.
Adia needed to talk to Khon’Tor alone. But she would have to do so under different circumstances—not in her quarters with Nadiwani, Oh'Dar, and Acaraho around. What must happen must happen between the two of them alone.
Adia prepared herself for his entrance, practicing her most nonchalant affect. If she was going to follow through on the story that she did not remember what had happened, she had to set her mind to react as if he was nothing more than the Leader of the People—not the monster she now knew him to be.
The guard announced Khon’Tor’s arrival, and Adia could feel Acaraho watching both of them intently. She did not know whether he suspected something; he might simply be feeling protective of her after what she had been through. She believed they were convinced that she had memory only of what she had already told them. Now Adia had to see if she could convince Khon’Tor of the same.
Adia and Nadiwani had been at the work table where Nadiwani was sharing with the Healer what she had learned from Ithua in administering to Adia’s needs.
Khon’Tor spoke first. “I am pleased to see you have recovered,” he said.
Liar, thought Adia, almost sneering. She was glad she had not quite lost control. Khon’Tor might be heartless and ruthless and perhaps a monster, but he was no fool, and he would be paying attention to everything she said and did. He would be evaluating every inflection of her voice, every eye movement. She knew the greatest risk was when she made eye contact with him. She was not sure if he knew she was claiming to remember hardly anything, but he would realize that no accusations had been brought because no one had come pounding at his door.
Their entire society had been shaken by the few instances in the People’s history when charges of misconduct were leveled against someone in a position of high authority. Violations of the laws were usually handled by the internal structure within each community. They were decided through discussion of the facts between the Leader, the Healer, and the Leader’s mate as Third Rank. At their discretion, other authorities could be brought in to counsel them, such as those in the position held by Acaraho. The ultimate seat of power. however, rested in the Leader’s hands and the final justice was his alone to decide.
In the rare case that an issue involved any of the ruling ranks, the High Council would be brought in because judgment over those situations had to be taken to a seat of power outside of the community itself. Above all the ranks within the community, including the Leader himself, was the High Council—a combination of Leaders and Chiefs from the tribes in the area who came together to discuss matters of mutual concern. So the fact that Khon’Tor was left to go about his business would have told him she had revealed nothing of what he did to her. The question was, why had she not? Adia knew Khon’Tor was there to find out the answer.
She had every intention of confronting Khon’Tor about what he had done, but it would not be here, not in front of others. She could not afford to lose control of what happened next, and if others found out, it would unleash unbearable pandemonium.
The only people in the room, besides herself and Khon’Tor, were Nadiwani and Acaraho. Adia did not care if she fooled Khon’Tor right now with her story of amnesia, but she did care that she continued to fool them.
Adia took the plunge, met Khon’Tor’s gaze, and said, “I am coming along, thanks to the care of Nadiwani and Ithua. Thank you for asking.”
Khon’Tor could not wait any longer. Knowing he was at huge risk of tipping his hand, he still had to ask, “What happened to you? Do you remember?”
Acaraho was watching as Khon’Tor almost imperceptibly took a breath and held it while he waited for Adia to answer.
“I cannot say,” she replied, trying to walk as close to the truth as possible. “A lot of what happened is a blur. I am just thankful Is’Taqa found me in time.”
Khon’Tor knew she certainly would not accuse him in this setting. He knew that if she were going to bring accusations against him, it would be through the formal process of contacting the High Council. He only hoped that through what she did say he would get more information than he currently had—which was basically nothing. But now he knew no more than he had when he arrived.
Adia’s noncommittal answers were not lost on Acaraho.
Once again, he thought, answering without providing any real information. I am convinced that Adia is pretending she does not remember.
And Khon’Tor held his breath after he asked her if she remembered what had happened. And instead of asking the more obvious question in keeping with his demand for unwavering obedience—Why did you leave Kthama when I had forbidden it?—he asked if she remembered.
Khon’Tor did not have to ask why she was out there because he already knew. Perhaps that was the reason for their fight—or part of it. Khon’Tor asked a question to which he did not know the answer: what did she remember?
Acaraho had no more doubt that whatever had happened to Adia, Khon’Tor had played a part in it. His list of unanswered questions was long, the most important being, Was Khon’Tor the one to inflict Adia’s injuries?
Khon’Tor had other problems besides the huge inconvenience of Adia’s survival. One of his other problems was his mate, who unfortunately was also alive and well. The last time he had seen Hakani, h
e was towering over her as she lay in his bed—just seconds away from eviscerating her.
Whatever she had been doing since that night, he knew it would not be for his benefit.
There was also still the matter of Akule, to whom Khon’Tor in truth probably owed a great debt, as it was Akule who had unknowingly stopped him from killing Hakani.
Had Akule not pounded on the door at just the moment he did, I would have violently and savagely ended Hakani’s life. No staging could have covered that up, he thought.
Reflecting on how close he had come to killing Hakani, Khon’Tor realized how out of his mind he had been that night. And yes, he would normally have been angry with Adia for leaving Kthama, but he would not have reacted in the crazed, explosive manner he did. He realized his unrelieved rage at Hakani had been redirected and unleashed on Adia. Otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to lose control and hit a female, let alone— And he forced himself to leave that thought unfinished, not wanting to revisit just then what he had done to her afterward.
Chapter 15
Mapiya and Haiwee, who were caring for Oh'Dar, were also providing any assistance they could to Nadiwani. Nadiwani regularly sent them back to the community with ongoing updates about Adia’s progress. When the news came that Adia had regained consciousness and was expected to make a full recovery, the energy in the population changed from concerned to jubilant.
Hakani did not particularly care whether Adia lived or died—neither changed the fact that Adia had been Khon’Tor’s First Choice all along. Though Hakani would probably have derived some satisfaction from Adia’s death, she was more interested in punishing Khon’Tor.
I felt so honored when he selected me as his mate. I pictured a rewarding lifetime at his side. I thought I would be his counsel and his support, his Third Rank, enjoying the respect of the People.
But when Hakani learned Khon’Tor had only selected her by default, all her dreams turned to humiliation. And that humiliation had turned to hatred—hatred that was kept alive by the constant presence of Adia, his First Choice, in their day-to-day lives.
Hakani was not sure what repercussions there would be for what she had done. She was not sure what else he could do to her. He had already nullified her position of leadership in the People’s eyes; he had cut her off from participating in any role as his mate, and he had evicted her from his sleeping area—a fact which had caused her tremendous humiliation.
Her only satisfaction was that he left believing she was carrying another man’s offspring. And that this would be a great source of torment for him for as long as she could carry out the ruse. She knew that within a few months, she would have to drop the pretense as it would be obvious she was not with offspring. But in the meantime, she was going to leverage it for all she could.
Hakani had thought through her moves very carefully and designed each step, so she had Khon’Tor beat, regardless of which way the evening went.
After leading him on and at the very last second withdrawing her consent, if he had not been able to control himself and had mated her against her will, she would have won. And as an added bonus, there would also be a chance he might have seeded her.
If it had gone that way, she would not have played the card about carrying another man’s offspring. She would have waited and hoped she might be seeded, solving the problem of her obligation to produce him an heir.
But he had stopped himself and then done exactly what she knew he would; he had stated he would go to the High Council and invoke his right to select a second mate. One who would succeed where she had failed.
It was then she had played her trump card. There would be no need for a second mate; she would produce an offspring, and the fact that it would not be his was inconsequential. She would fulfill her obligation.
She knew Khon’Tor would be trapped. His pride would force him to claim the offspring rather than have anyone know she had betrayed him.
And to be forced to raise another man’s offspring, and have that offspring become Leader someday, would eat away at him every day—much the same as seeing Adia ate away at Hakani every day.
She had counted on this to push him past the breaking point, and it did. If Hakani had known that the insane rage she caused him had driven him to attack Adia, she would have been very pleased indeed.
She did not know what her next move would be, but until she did, she could enjoy the fact that Khon’Tor would continue to believe for some time that she was carrying another man’s offspring. And every time he looked out across the group of males he commanded, he would wonder who it was who had betrayed him. Even after Hakani had to drop the ruse, that thought would torment him the rest of his life.
Khon’Tor had not returned to his quarters since the night he almost killed Hakani. He continued to hole up in the meeting room he had taken over earlier. He missed his private retreat, but her presence ruined any solace it might have provided. And he did not want to give her another opportunity to taunt him about carrying someone else’s offspring.
The thought that one of the males had betrayed him was eating at him to his core. He had pictured each one in his mind; in the end, he could not think of one male who would commit such an act. Even beyond loyalty to him, infidelity was practically unheard of among the People.
The Leadership of the People was always passed on through the bloodline. Without an heir, there was no one next in line after Khon’Tor.
Everyone will be thrilled at the news that Hakani is with offspring; I will have to put on a show. I have no proof that I did not seed the offspring. It would be my word against hers, short of whoever the father is coming forward.
Khon’Tor sat with his head in his hands. Hakani has won. I cannot go to the High Council and claim a second mate if she is fulfilling her duty to produce one. And I now have no grounds to oust her from my quarters. It would make more sense, though, if I knew why she hates me so much.
Khon’Tor had no solution to his problem with Akule either. The watcher knew too much about Khon’Tor’s involvement in the night’s events. Did Akule really think no more of what had happened than at its face value? Or did he suspect Khon’Tor but was smart enough to hide it? In the normal course of events, Khon’Tor had little interaction with the watchers, so it would be unusual for him to continue to contact Akule. For now, he had to let go of the matter. He did not want to stir up the suspicions of anyone, including the watcher himself.
I might not be able to do anything about Hakani or Akule at this point, but I do have to do something about Adia.
Adia had continued to get stronger and stronger. Her wounds had been treated and had healed. She was able to resume some care for Oh'Dar as well as some of her duties as Healer.
She continued to maintain that she did not remember much about that night. Ithua had not let on, if indeed she had recognized the other injuries. Adia knew the Medicine Woman of the Brothers would discuss it with her before mentioning it to anyone else; in Ithua’s place, she would do the same.
As soon as she was able to, Adia took a long-awaited bath. Even though Ithua must have tended to her, she still wanted to wash off for herself all remembrance of what Khon’Tor had done. It was agony having to wait so long to do so. Nadiwani helped her into the bathing area and left her to her privacy.
As Adia lay enjoying the cool water, easing the remaining aches and pains, she had time to think about what she was going to do.
Outpourings of good wishes and concerned messages brought back to her from the community by Mapiya and Haiwee had raised her spirits. She found it curious, though, that there were not more questions about why she had left the cave that night. Apparently, they chalked it up to her being so sick—that in her delirium, she had simply walked out of Kthama. They certainly had not looked any deeper than that, for which she was grateful.
The furor over her injury had now died down; everyone was relieved she was going to be alright.
Adia grieved over the loss of Oh'Dar’s locket, tho
ugh, and the little pouch. It must still be out there somewhere, maybe lost amid the rocks, hidden under the snow. Or maybe Khon’Tor took it. I do not know, but I have to try to find it. I will go out and look for it when I can.
At the moment, everything seemed calm compared to the events of the past while. Adia loved the People of her community. She had always put them first. She had served them as their Healer to the best of her ability. She would do anything for them and had never meant to cause struggle and upheaval for them by bringing Oh'Dar into their midst.
Adia’s thoughts turned to what she had tried not to think about all this time—that Khon’Tor had attacked her and left her for dead. She knew there was tension between them, just as there was tension between her and his mate Hakani. But for it to come to this?
Khon’Tor has been the Leader since before I came to the People as their Healer. I have seen him under various levels of stress. I have seen him lose his temper and speak out harshly. But I have never seen him threaten anyone with physical violence. Not ever. And neither are there rumors of him having done so with anyone else. He has a temper, he is strong-willed, but I would not have thought him capable of such crimes. And they were out of proportion to my crime of leaving Kthama against his decree.
The more Adia reflected on Khon’Tor’s behavior, the harder it was for her to accept that he had done this to her. In the safety and comfort of the bathing area, with no watching eyes, she released all the bottled-up pain. She let the tears flow and sobbed her heart out at what he had done to her. The feelings of helplessness and invasion, the bewilderment as to why, the anger, all came pouring out. Grief over losing her sense of safety and the loss of the sanctity of her own person flooded her and overwhelmed her. She had no one to turn to for comfort but herself, but she allowed herself that and alone, she bore witness to her pain and suffering.
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