by Amber Argyle
After a time, Ilyenna felt something tiny and warm touch her temple. She pivoted to find Jablana crouched in the bush beside her. For the first time, Ilyenna immediately saw through the fairy’s glamour.
Jablana looked around cautiously before whispering, “Be careful, Winter Queen. There are many enemies searching for you here.” Her wings fanned out to catch the air, and Ilyenna knew she would soon fly away.
“Wait, please. Can you help us through?”
The fairy paused, her wings trembling. “You humans always believe you can change things, that if you chip away long enough at a mountain, it will become a valley. But there are some things that just are. The sun in the sky. The earth beneath your feet. And the Balance. We are natural enemies, you and I—no more compatible than ice in high summer.” The fairy darted past Ilyenna, toward the open air.
She felt tears building up behind her eyes. “Even in high summer, there are glaciers in the mountains!”
The fairy paused before Ilyenna’s face, her wings a soft blur behind her. She looked around once more, as if afraid someone might see her, before flitting away.
Ilyenna huddled inside her blanket, wondering if Tyrans slept in the house her back rested against.
The gray of morning was starting to turn to silver when Rone came back for her. She nearly cried out in alarm when he suddenly appeared from the other side of the house.
He didn’t seem to notice how close she’d come to giving them away. “I didn’t see anything. Let’s go.”
She pressed her back up against the house. “There are Tyrans everywhere.”
Rone squatted beside her. “How do you know?”
She opened her mouth before shutting it again. She couldn’t tell Rone about Jablana. He’d never believe her. “I heard people in the house talking about them.”
“Why would Gen let the Tyrans stay?”
She gripped her knife handle. “He couldn’t turn them out. Not without a good reason.”
Rone pressed his lips together. “Idiotic politics.”
Terror filled Ilyenna’s heart. “What’re we going to do?”
He glanced around. “We don’t have enough supplies to last another couple days, let alone until the spring feast. Even if we did, I don’t think we could avoid being found for that long.”
Despite the cold, Ilyenna’s palms began to sweat. “So we go in?”
He nodded. “Most everybody’s still asleep.” He must have seen the despair in her face, for he added, “If the Tyrans catch us, Gen can’t do much to help. But if you can just get to the clan house, he’ll be able to claim you’re his responsibility.”
She felt bile rising in her throat. “You mean for me to go in alone?”
“They’re looking for us together,” Rone said reassuringly. “It’ll be less conspicuous if we split up.” He glanced at her hair, then gently lifted the blanket from her shoulders and settled it over her head.
His movements were so tender that she wondered if she’d been wrong. Perhaps he didn’t regret what had happened between them. But then he pressed his lips to her forehead, as a brother might do, and her heart pounded with longing. He rubbed her arms. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. Smile at anyone who smiles at you. Find your way to the clan house and get inside. After that, Gen will protect you. Remember, you’re just a Riesen woman getting an early start on her chores.”
Before she could think up a protest, Rone pulled her to her feet and pushed her around the house. She was suddenly alone. Trying to hide her limp, she started into Riesenholm. He was right, the streets were nearly empty. The village looked so peaceful. Chickens wandered around, pecking at insects. A cow lowed from a barn. Ilyenna was tempted to feel ridiculous for being so terrified.
She walked past shuttered windows and wondered where the Tyran men were. How closely they were watching for her? She saw movement to the side and spun around, but she saw nothing unusual. For a moment, she stood frozen. Then, remembering Rone’s warning, she steadied herself, trying to keep her gait steady but purposeful, her traitorous brown eyes fastened to the ground.
Something darted between the houses again. Ilyenna focused and this time saw Jablana peeking around a corner, desperately motioning her forward. Thank the Balance, Ilyenna thought.
A hand came down on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” a woman asked.
Ilyenna jumped. Her heart pounding in her throat, she forced herself to calm down. “I’m fine.”
She pulled away and followed Jablana between the houses. Coming onto the uneven street, she saw nothing. She started toward the center again, her gaze searching for the sudden movement of a fairy.
But as she turned to look back, something caught her eye. A glimpse of a man behind her. She quickly looked away. He might just be a Riesen clanman, out on business. She glared at the ground. She’d drawn unnecessary attention to herself by looking for fairies. Trying to keep her movements inconspicuous, Ilyenna followed Jablana between another set of houses. Just before she rounded the corner, she looked back just in time to see the man turning after her.
He was following her.
Forgetting Rone’s warning, she rushed forward, ignoring anyone who called a greeting and desperately trying to keep from running full out. Jablana motioned for her between another set of houses, but that would bring her closer to the man following her, the man Jablana obviously couldn’t see.
Ilyenna darted across the street and between another set of houses. She turned back to see if the man was still following her. She was so busy looking over her shoulder that she ran straight into someone. Sidestepping the clanmen, she mumbled an apology and kept moving.
But the man’s hand shot out, gripping her arm. In surprise, she glanced at him. His eyes widened with both shock and pleasure. Ilyenna’s eyes darted to his clan belt.
A Tyran.
She snatched her knife and thrust it forward. The man twisted to the side. Her knife missed his guts and sliced his arm. He cursed and jumped back, grabbing for his axe. He swung it, the flat side aimed at her. She tried to drop, but he adjusted his swing and caught her on the side of her head. Light was extinguished to blackness before returning in maddening sparks that melted into colors and shapes. There was pain, but it was at an arm’s length. Ilyenna struggled to make her mind work. Her head felt as heavy as a river stone. Somehow, she managed to open her eyes.
The blurry Tyran stood above her, satisfaction on his face. “Hello, little clan mistress.”
Suddenly, hands appeared. One snatched the Tyran’s jaw; another jerked a knife through his throat. The Tyran panicked, trying to grip his axe, but then his face relaxed and he sagged. Ilyenna made out the hazy shape of a man as he caught the dead Tyran under his arms and dragged him into a barn. The man rushed back to her, his bloody hands hauling her up. She struggled, trying to pull away from him.
“Why were you running? I told you not to run.”
She knew that voice. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Rone had been following her, making sure she was all right. Like an idiot, she’d tried to escape him and had run right into a Tyran. But though her thoughts had grown a great deal clearer, her body didn’t seem to be working right. Her feet were sluggish and incredibly heavy. Rone half supported, half dragged her toward the clan house.
A man leaning against a house jumped to his feet at the sight of them. Rone hefted his axe, his face cold as ice. Indecision overwhelmed the Tyran’s face before he took off at a run. Abandoning all pretenses, Rone scooped her into his arms and ran toward the kitchen door. He tried the handle. It was barred. He kicked it repeatedly. “I have need of a healer,” he shouted.
Moments stretched on as they waited. Finally, a disheveled-looking tiam opened the door. Rone shoved past her, kicking the door shut with his heel. “Bar it!” he shouted.
As the tiam hurried to obey, a middle-aged woman appeared, tugging on her overdress. Ilyenna recognized her—the Riesen clan mistress. The older woman froze, her face veiled with shock at
the sight of Ilyenna. “Bar all the doors,” she said to the tiam, “and get Gen!” Her quick eyes assessed Ilyenna, stopping where the side of the axe had met her head. She directed Rone to lay her on the table. “I’ll take her. You make sure no one gets through the front door.”
Adusting the shield on his arm, Rone cast Ilyenna a worried glance before darting from the room.
“Curse these men and their politics!” the clan mistress muttered as she searched her shelves. “Why can’t we live in peace without these idiotic games?” She dampened a rag with a tincture and pressed it to Ilyenna’s forehead.
Ilyenna sucked air through her teeth as the alcohol stung her skin.
“I’m Ressa, in case you’ve forgotten. I remember you, though.” She poured spirits into a wooden mug, then helped Ilyenna sit up and drink. Ilyenna’s eyes watered at the strength of the liquid. She hesitated to take another swallow, but the woman tipped up the mug. “You’ll be feeling a whole lot better in a few minutes.”
The spirits burned like fire. She coughed. Ressa waited until the fit subsided before pouring more down Ilyenna’s throat. The herbs inside were strong as well. Her belly warmed.
Her hands as quick as her eyes, Ressa wiped Ilyenna’s wound and smeared her head with a familiar-smelling salve before pressing a damp, cool cloth over it.
Someone pounded so hard on the door to the great hall that Ilyenna wondered if it would vibrate off its hinges. Ressa paused, anxiety writing deep lines in her face. There were shuffling footsteps, and then the door creaked open.
Ilyenna desperately wanted to see what was going on. But then she heard his voice and instantly changed her mind. She cringed.
“Gen, one of my men saw my tiams,” Darrien growled. “I want them turned over. Now.”
There was a long pause before Gen answered, “They’re in my clanhouse. That makes them a Riesen concern now.”
Darrien swore. “You’ve no right to interfere with my tiams! The law demands that you hand them over!”
“I will,” Gen said calmly, “if the Council orders me to do so. Until then, your rudeness offends both me and my clan. Get out of my lands.”
“You dare throw me out? You dare insult my clan?” Darrien roared.
Ilyenna heard slow steps and imagined Gen moving forward. His voice dropped so low she could barely make out his words. “I know exactly how many clanmen you have in my lands. I have twenty times that, all of them ready to kill any Tyran in sight at the sound of the warning bell.” Gen chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d trust you after what you’ve done? No, my clan is fully prepared for war. And as stretched as the Tyrans are, you know as well as I that we’d win. Get out. We’ll see who the Council sides with.”
Darrien started to sputter a reply, but Ilyenna heard the door shut in his face. Gen spoke again. “Arm our clanmen and escort the Tyrans to the border. I want spies watching their every move. Bring in those foolish enough to stay on the outlying farms, by force if you have to. Every clanman is to be ready for war.” Footsteps confirmed that the clan chief’s orders were being obeyed.
Ressa sighed in relief. “Well, I’m glad he finally had cause to kick them out. Gen’s been sleeping with his axe for a week. I’m always afraid I’ll roll into it. Anything else hurt?”
Ilyenna pointed to her ankle. Ressa eased the boot from the foot, her lips pressed in a disapproving line. She retrieved a salve, coated Ilyenna’s ankle with it, and wrapped the ankle in clean cloths. Then Ressa helped her sit on a chair.
Ilyenna’s head still hurt something awful, and the room spun. She gripped the table to keep from swaying in her seat. Gen came into the room and set his shield on a chair. He knelt next to her and studied her head wound. “Ressa?”
“She’ll be all right, dear. I’ve whiskeyed her up a bit. Shortly, she’ll be feeling pretty good about things.”
With that, she handed Ilyenna a piece of buttered rye bread and a cup of willow bark tea that was half milk with a generous dash of whiskey. Ilyenna began eating carefully, but hungrily.
Rone came in, an anxious look on his face. “You all right?”
Not daring to nod, Ilyenna smiled softly. “We made it.”
He didn’t return her smile.
“What happened?” Gen asked.
As Rone related their story, leaving out the amorous parts, Gen’s face flooded with rage. “The Council will have Undon’s clan for this!” he roared just as Ilyenna polished off her second cup of tea. The whiskey was working wonders, and her aching head was nearly a distant memory.
“And you just had to kill a Tyran right in the middle of Reisenholm, did you?” Gen fumed at Rone.
Rone’s eyes flicked toward Ilyenna. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“Well, I suppose it couldn’t. I’ll send someone to deal with it. Anything else?”
Rone shook his head. “That’s all.”
“Rone, pick that girl up and follow me to my daughter’s old room,” Ressa ordered.
Ilyenna snuggled into Rone’s embrace, her arms around his neck. He smelled so wonderful.
“Lay her down there,” Ressa said as she pointed to a door.
He opened the door to the room and placed her on the bed, but she didn’t release him. “You know,” she teased, “you could stay with me.”
He gently pried her arms from around his neck. “You’re drunk, Ilyenna.”
She snorted. “And what do you care? I wasn’t drunk the other night.”
Pain crossed his face, pain that redoubled inside her.
“Get out,” she said flatly. Rolling away from him, she covered her head with the blankets. “You can join the dead and I won’t care.”
After a few moments she heard the door shut, and then she was asleep.
17. Regrets
“Up, child. You’ll be needing some more medicine.”
Ilyenna forced her eyelids open. She squinted at the light, her eyes smarting. She tried to roll over, but pain shot through her skull. “Oh,” she moaned.
Ressa plopped down on the side of the bed. “You’ll be wanting to drink two mugs of this tea and eat your breakfast. I’ll tend to your head.”
Ilyenna squinted up at her, her mind hazily trying to put yesterday’s events in order. “Can I have more whiskey?”
The clan mistress chuckled. “Whiskey’s powerful medicine. But a little willow bark will work wonders.”
“Darrien?” Ilyenna said hesitantly.
“Gone, along with the other Tyrans. Gen’s making sure they don’t double back.” She filled the mug half full of tea and topped it with cream. “This will settle your stomach.”
Ilyenna took the drink gratefully. Ressa had sweetened it with sugar and powdered raspberries to mask the bitter willow bark. She drank more as Ressa pulled the cloth away from her wound. Determined to be a good patient, Ilyenna stayed still, refusing to flinch while Ressa wiped off the excess ointment with the back of the cloth.
“I’m having my tiams bring up the bath. I’ll be helping you scrub yourself and then we’ll redress this, hmm?”
Ilyenna had a hazy recollection of Rone bringing her to bed earlier, and judging by the pit in her stomach, she’d said something bad. She took a bite of a biscuit and froze as the memory worked free. “By the Balance,” she breathed.
Ressa leaned forward. “What’s the matter?”
Ilyenna turned her wide eyes to the woman. “Where’s Rone?”
She patted Ilyenna’s arm consolingly. “He went with Gen.”
Ilyenna wasn’t sure how her heart could keep beating through the pain. “No.”
Ressa smiled understandingly. “The drink often loosens our tongues.”
“He told you what I said?”
The clan mistress shook her head. “No, but I’ve five children. It wasn’t hard to guess that you two had a fight.”
“How could you let him go? He needed rest and food and . . .”
Ressa cocked an eyebrow. “It’s best that men keep busy when they’ve a lot to
think on. And Rone had many things on his mind. He wanted to speak with my husband about a good deal of them. Rone is a strong man. He’s fared better than you, but of course men are more used to traipsing over half the clan lands. I sent him with enough food to put the meat back on his bones. Don’t you worry.”
Ilyenna’s hands fell helplessly to her sides. “I said things to him. Awful things.”
Ressa lifted the biscuit and raised a warning eyebrow. “No more talking unless you’re eating.”
Ilyenna took a grudging bite.
Ressa gave a satisfied little nod. “Well, there are two weeks before the Council meets. That should be plenty of time to make it right.” She stood and headed for the door.“Two weeks?” Ilyenna managed around her mouthful of biscuit. “I thought it was three.”
“They moved it up in order to deal with the situation with Undon.”
Ilyenna began counting the nights since she’d escaped with Rone and realized it had been almost a week. “Where is it this time?”
“We’ll be leaving for Cardell in nine days,” Ressa said from the doorway.
“Cardell,” Ilyenna repeated. Just below the Riesen. Lost in thought, she started when she reached for another biscuit only to realize she’d eaten them all.
Two women came in, bearing a beaten copper tub between them. It was as high as Ilyenna’s thighs and probably twice as long. More tiams appeared—two young boys carrying a steaming pot between them. The women and boys kept reappearing until the tub was filled with hot water.
As soon as they shut the door behind them, Ilyenna sank into the water up to her chin and let the heat draw the soreness from her muscles. Ressa came in shortly thereafter and washed her hair, carefully avoiding her swollen bruise. Then the older woman worked over Ilyenna’s back with a woven horsehair rag. Her skin was still peeling from the lye-soaked strap.
When every inch of her was scrubbed white and the water had lost its heat, Ressa produced a nearly new underdress and overdress. “I couldn’t scrub all the stains out of your old one, and really, the thing was hardly worth saving. I made it into rags. This belonged to one of my daughters, Varris. She’s around the same size.”