by Amber Argyle
The opposite door flung open. A Tyran barreled into the room, shouting for help. But others were already coming. They must have heard Ilyenna’s screams. It took four Tyrans to pull Rone off. Even then, he struggled to reach Darrien.
Ilyenna realized her hand was wet and looked down. Bright blood pooled beneath her. For a moment, she thought it was hers. But then she remembered Metha. Barely holding on to consciousness, she leaned over the woman. Ilyenna had to help her, but she couldn’t reach through her own pain to think straight. Every time she moved, she wanted to cry out.
Rone. Would they kill him for saving her and Metha? Would they kill them all?
Undon’s daughters hurried to Metha. They grabbed the woman and dragged her out of the kitchen, leaving nothing but a trail of blood as testament to what Darrien had done. Ilyenna watched them go, trying to force herself to get up and help.
A face appeared before her. It took a moment for Ilyenna to recognize Narium. “The Balance protect me, what’ve they done to you?”
Ilyenna tried to shake her head. “It’s not my blood.” But she tasted blood in her mouth and spit it onto the already stained floor.
Narium glanced up. “Get her to the women’s house,” she said. Then she was gone.
Shyle and Argon women surrounded Ilyenna and carried her between them. She tensed with every step they took, and the pain grew so intense she blacked out.
Dreams took her. Dreams of Darrien’s axe slicing fire through her stomach. Dreams of fairies and winter and dancing. Of a woman with skin as dark as the richest soil and a laugh that sounded like wind through aspens. In her hand was a tiny white blossom. “Eating this will heal even the direst injuries,” she said, her voice like a song.
“No you will not!”
Ilyenna woke with a start. A deep ache radiated from her abdomen, and she knew something was broken inside her. Her abdomen was swollen and tender. She was on the only bed in the women’s house, naked but for a blanket tucked around her. Her body had been washed. The voices were coming from outside.
“You will get back to work.” Ilyenna recognized Undon’s voice.
“I won’t! Your sorry excuse for a son nearly beat her to death. She still might die. Isn’t his child and the child’s mother enough?”
Metha was dead? Ilyenna closed her eyes, hoping Narium’s mouth didn’t land her a visit to the beating pole.
A long pause. “He lost his temper. If Ilyenna hadn’t interfered, he would’ve stopped on his own.”
“If my son hadn’t interfered, your son would have killed them both. You think you have me beaten, Undon, but you’d be wise not to forget who I am. Who Ilyenna and Rone are. If Ilyenna dies, if my son dies, you’ll have the deaths of more clan mistresses and clan chiefs on your hands—and before the Council can even decide if your reparation was just. They won’t wait for the summer feast. They’ll come now and cleanse the clan lands of Tyrans.”
Another long pause. “Fine. Today you tend her, but tomorrow you will work.”
Ilyenna heard retreating footsteps. After a lengthy pause, Narium let out a long, shaky sigh.
Wincing, Ilyenna lifted the blanket to reveal arnica leaves covering her broken flesh. From the top of her breasts to the bottom of her abdomen, she was black with bruises. Just moving the blanket hurt so much she had to lie back, her energy spent. She felt death waiting for her.
The flower. The one the summer queen had given her. Ilyenna looked for her overdress. It lay nearby, freshly laundered and mended. On top of it was the elice flower.
Ilyenna strained toward it, her battered flesh screaming in protest. Black spots danced before her vision, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her fingers brushed against the soft petals. She picked up the flower. The three petals looked as fresh as when Leto had handed it to her.
Ilyenna plucked one of the petals and laid it on her tongue. It dissolved as though made of spun sugar. Warmth blossomed in her mouth before taking her far away, high in the mountains. She lay in a meadow. The air was thick with the sweet scent of freshly cut hay and clover blossoms. The early summer sun warmed Ilyenna’s skin. The melody of bird song and scurrying animals filled the air. This was the promise of spring. Renewal. Reawakening. Rebirth. For a long time, she lay in the grass, relishing the warm sun and invigorating smells.
Then the Luathan woman was there, smiling down at her. The sun seemed to have absorbed into her skin, condensing until it shone out of her. “’Tis a fair thing, when summer comes.”
Ilyenna tentatively laid her hand over her ribs. Her pain had vanished. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”
Leto inclined her head and sat beside her. “In times past, other queens have been enemies. Such a shame. We should be sisters, two ends of the same loaf. I awaken the world, you put it to rest.”
“Opposite sides of the Balance,” Ilyenna said softly. She had so many questions, but the warm sun made her too drowsy to ask them. “I would be your sister,” she managed.
The summer queen smiled broadly. “Well then, go back. Survive the summer, and all will be well.”
Ilyenna opened her eyes to stare up at the roof beams. In her hand, she felt the softness of flower petals. Daring to hope, she lifted the blanket. The black bruises had faded to a greenish yellow. Holding the blanket to her bare chest, she carefully sat up. She was stiff and sore, but it was the soreness from a hard day’s work rather than the agony of nearly being kicked to death. Her hunger raged far stronger than any pain.
Moving carefully, she grabbed her underdress—someone had mended it. She tugged it over her head and tightened the laces at her throat. Next came her felt overdress. She tied the rag around her waist to keep it from hanging open at the sides. With the movement, her body was slowly warming up and the stiffness working out. She was tying the laces of her boots when the door opened.
Sunshine streaming in behind him, Rone gaped at her. “What’re you doing up?”
Ilyenna couldn’t help but smile in delight. She’d expected Narium. “Rone? But . . . how long have I been here?”
He came in, shutting the door behind him. “This is the second day.”
A whole day since she’d last been conscious. That explained Narium’s absence.
Rone looked her up and down before moving to Narium’s makeshift bed on the floor and pulling out a knotted bit of cloth. “Mother said you might die. How’re you even out of bed?”
Noting the stiff way he moved, she waved his question away. “What did they do to you?”
“I’ll tell you all about my ordeal after you’ve eaten something.” He untied the cloth and handed it to her. Dried apple slices, cheese, and a bit of bread. “Sorry there’s not more of it.”
Ilyenna’s mouth watered at the sight of the apples. Her hands trembling from hunger, she picked out the apple slices, saving them for last. “Don’t be sorry. I know you take the food from your own share.” She took a bite of the bread.
Rone sat beside her on the bed and watched her eat most of the bread before he spoke, “They beat me with a soaked strap.”
Ilyenna’s breath snagged in her throat. Fingering an apple slice, she wondered why his punishment hadn’t been worse. She hesitated before asking, “Is that all they’re going to do?”
“For now. I think Undon’s afraid if he kills me before the Council makes their decision, they’ll come against him. Which they will.”
“And he let you care for me?”
Rone grinned. “Undon and Darrien are too busy to keep track of me today.”
Ilyenna finished the last of the cheese and tucked the remaining apple slices in her pocket. “Metha?” She undid her loose braid and combed through her hair with her fingers.
Rone watched her, a soft look around his eyes. “She’s dying.”
Ilyenna sagged as she rebraided her hair. Metha hadn’t shown her anything but cruelty, yet Ilyenna felt sorry for the woman, for what Darrien had done. Metha’s story and hers were more alike than Ilyenna would’ve ever
guessed.
“Has anyone been to see her?” She tied off her braid with a cord.
“Apparently Undon’s daughters didn’t learn much of healing before their mother’s death. My mother did the best she could for her.”
Ilyenna was on her feet before she could even think it through. Wincing, Rone moved to block her. “Where are you going?”
She tried to sidestep him. He mimicked her movement. She felt the heat from his body and hated that her stomach twisted in a delicious knot. “Rone, let me past. I might be able to help her.”
He gripped her forearms. “She’s beyond anyone’s helping, Ilyenna. You need to rest. And you need to stay away from Darrien.”
She jerked out of his grasp and glared at him. “The Balance protect you, Rone of the Argons, if you don’t let me pass!”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t you look at me that way—like I’m Darrien, because I’m not. I’d never hurt a woman, and you know it!”
She couldn’t help but notice how thin Rone had become—partially from sharing his food with her. He was right. She always lashed out at him when she was angry. “No, you’d never hurt me, but you’re still treating me like I can’t make a rational decision. I can help Metha. I know you think of me like a little sister, but I’m not little, Rone. I’m a woman now.”
He snorted. “Oh, don’t I know it.”
She stomped her foot. “Rone!”
He studied her for a moment, his pale brows gathered, before he stepped out of her way. “Fine, but I’m going with you. Everyone knows your rational thoughts blow away at the first sign of an injury.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Walking as quickly as she could, she crossed the distance from the women’s house to the clan house. She pushed open the kitchen door. Undon’s daughters gaped at her.
“Where is she?” Ilyenna demanded.
The oldest, Bennis, couldn’t have been more than fourteen, but she squared herself like a clan mistress anyway. “She’s with her son.”
“Where?”
Hanie, a girl of ten or so, nodded toward the ladders. “In our room.”
Bennis shot her a murderous glare. Hanie ducked her head and mumbled, “Maybe she can help them.”
“Narium showed you how to make qatcha?” Ilyenna asked.
Bennis’s chin jutted out. “Yes.”
“Good. Make some more with some knitbone, bethroat, and cocklebur, if you’ve got it, and bring it up” Ilyenna started past them.
Bennis planted herself firmly in front of Rone. “He doesn’t come into the clan house.”
Ilyenna looked back when Rone said, “I’m not letting her be alone in this house with him.”
Bennis dropped her head and swallowed. “He’s not here.”
“Wait for me outside?” Ilyenna said to Rone.
He pressed his lips together in disapproval, but she was gone before he could argue. She climbed the ladders and entered the room shared by Undon’s two daughters. Metha lay on the bed, her skin the color of ash. In her arms, she held a shriveled, nearly translucent baby who was even grayer than his mother. Ilyenna had delivered enough children to know this one was far too early, but the fact that he was alive meant he was a fighter.
Ilyenna sat on the side of the bed and placed her hand on Metha’s forehead. She was cold. Her breathing quick and shallow. Neither were good signs. Trying not to disturb her, Ilyenna lifted the blanket. At least the bleeding had stopped.
She touched the baby. He was breathing, though not nearly often enough. She tapped his forehead with her fingertips. No reaction. She pinched his arm. He didn’t even clench his eyelids. She sighed. He wouldn’t make it another hour. But his mother had a chance if she didn’t start bleeding again or develop a fever.
Ilyenna pressed her hand against the flower, still tucked beneath her overdress. If she used it on this child, that would only leave one petal. She had no doubts Darrien would kill more of her clan before winter, perhaps even in the next month. She and Rone were at the top of that list. Leto had given Ilyenna the flower to keep her alive until winter returned.
Ilyenna glanced at the baby. He was Darrien’s son, yet as innocent and deserving of life as any other child. Gently, she shifted Metha’s arms and lifted him. Such a small thing. Barely any weight at all in her hands. She felt a stirring in her breast, an instinctive protectiveness. “Yes, little one,” she breathed, “I will save you.”
Reaching inside her overdress, she plucked a petal. Then she lay the child across her lap, opened his tiny mouth, and slipped the petal inside. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he gasped, his arms flailing to the side. Warmth surged from his tiny body into her hands. His face pinked up. With a contented sigh, he settled into normal breathing.
“Don’t touch my son.”
Startled, Ilyenna looked at Metha. The woman reached for her child, and Ilyenna laid him back in his mother’s arms. “Lie still. You don’t want to start the bleeding again.”
“What did you do to him?” Metha rasped, hatred glowing in her eyes.
“You blame me for what Darrien did? I was trying to save your life.”
Metha’s cheeks went red and she looked away. “Before you came, he loved me. You stole him away from me.”
Ilyenna laid a hand over her ribs, ghosts of pain echoing in her bones. “Let him go, Metha. It wasn’t real—it never was. Hold on to your son. That love is real.”
“As if you know what real love is!” Panting, Metha lay back in the bed. “Get out!”
The door pushed open. Bennis came in, a steaming cup in her hand. One look at Metha and she glared at Ilyenna. “What did you do?”
Metha groaned. Bennis lifted the blanket and threw it back. Bright blood stained the rags. The young girl stared at it, her face turning white. “Metha, you have to stop moving,” she said. “You have to calm down.”
Metha shifted in her bed. “You get out too. You know whose baby Harraw is. You know he should be the next clan chief, but still you deny it!”
Ilyenna pushed Bennis to the side. “You’re right, Metha. They know who your son is. But if you want to live to raise him, you have to keep still.”
Metha lay back, clearly exhausted. “It doesn’t matter. I’m dying.”
Ilyenna glanced at the crimson sheets and thought of the last petal she had left. A petal she could use to save someone she loved. To save herself. But that would mean she would have to watch Metha die, knowing she could’ve stopped it.
She bent over the woman. Metha’s eyes had grown heavy. Not much longer and she’d slip into unconsciousness. “Yes, Metha,” she whispered. “You’re dying. But I can help you.” She held out the flower with its last remaining petal. “If you trust me.”
Metha glanced from the flower to Ilyenna. “Why would you help me?”
Ilyenna felt a pang course through her. She thought of what Darrien had said days before. Was she a healer or a killer? “I am a healer,” she said steadily. “It’s what I am.”
Metha hesitated before nodding. Ilyenna plucked the last petal and slipped it onto her tongue. As quickly as it had worked on Harraw, Ilyenna saw the changes begin in Metha. She clutched the stripped flower head to her chest and left the room.
12. Dark of Night
Waiting for morning, Ilyenna sat in Darrien’s attic. In her palm lay the flower head. Her fingertips circled it over and over again. Exhausted as she was, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Darrien was going to kill her or one of the others, and now she couldn’t save any of them.
She glanced up at the sound of horses. Peeking through the chink in the mortar, she saw three riders come to a stop outside the clan house. Two dismounted, leaving the third to hold the reins of their horses. Ilyenna wondered who would ride here this early. She put the flower away and pressed her face against the wall. They were strange men, wearing long, hooded cloaks instead of coats.
One of them rapped at the kitchen door and waited before rapping again. Finally, the door opened, spill
ing lantern light across the stranger’s face. He and one of his companions came inside. Ilyenna heard voices, and soon footsteps sounded beneath her. Darrien was up. Why were the Tyrans meeting with strangers in the middle of the night?
Something was wrong—evilly, wickedly wrong—and she had to know what. Quietly as she could, she lifted the trapdoor. Darrien’s room was empty. Lying on her stomach, she strained to reach the ladder, but it was too far. She groaned in frustration. Below her were Darrien’s hunting trophies—antlers, skulls, and skins—stretched across his walls. What if she could use them like vertical stepping stones?
Swinging her feet over the edge, she lowered herself from the attic. Her feet dangled above a bear skull. She pointed her toes, her feet barely grazed the bear’s forehead. Would it support her weight?
Holding her breath, she let herself drop. The skull held to the wall, but something clattered out of its mouth. Ilyenna dropped to the floor. She found a large, heavy piece of onyx, which she now remembered seeing before in the bear’s mouth. She quickly shoved it under a sheepskin rug and rushed to the door. Glancing up and down the hall, she hurried down the ladders. At the bottom, she paused, her pulse racing as she stared at the light glowing from beneath the kitchen door. If anyone came into the great hall, she’d have nowhere to hide.
Her whole body tensed to flee, she tiptoed to the kitchen door and pressed her ear to the wood. She heard whispered voices, mumbles, but no matter how hard she strained to make out words, she couldn’t.
Ilyenna dared not linger. She raced back up the ladders. In Darrien’s room, she gripped the back of the skull and climbed up. Stretching, her fingertips found the wooden lip around the trapdoor. She heaved with all her strength, scrambling with her bare feet, but she slipped down. Footsteps echoed down the hall. He was coming! She tried again. Her foot brushed against a knot of wood. Digging her toes into it, she heaved herself up.
She eased the trapdoor down just as Darrien came into the room. Completely drained, she collapsed on the floor. She pressed her palms into her forehead as thoughts of the foreigners meeting secretly in the clan house reverberated inside her head.