by Amber Argyle
“Ilyenna, don’t. Don’t do this.”
She bent down and pressed her lips to his forehead. “It’s already been done,” she whispered against his skin. She allowed herself one last look at him before she slipped out the door.
23. The Balance
Ilyenna waited at the edge of the Riesen encampment. Ressa and Gen stood silently at her side. She’d tried to say goodbye to her father, but he’d refused to see her. The few items she had—all gifts from Varris—were rolled into the blanket she held in her arms. She knew what she was going back to, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret her decision to save Rone. Darrien might’ve won, but she’d make the best of it somehow.
She watched as the Tyran wagons slowly began winding away from Cardenholm. One horse broke away from the group and started toward Ilyenna and her friends. Long before she could make out Darrien, she recognized his bay horse. He pulled the animal to a stop in front of her. “It’s time to go, Ilyenna.”
Slowly, she turned to face Ressa and Gen. They’d done so much for her, risked so much. “Thank you. For everything.”
Ressa gripped her in a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry we failed you.”
Ilyenna stepped back. Gen’s gaze held a mixture of anger and sorrow. She smiled at both of them. “You didn’t fail me.”
She turned to Darrien. He reached down to pull her up, and his face stiffened with pain. Ilyenna remembered that he would have been strapped sometime yesterday and a surge of triumph coursed through her.
Before she could take his hand, Ressa cleared her throat and said, “Of course, we must still honor traditions. My daughter, Varris, will accompany Ilyenna as a chaperone.”
At that moment, a harried-looking Varris bustled out of their tent, a large bundle in her arms.
Darrien’s fists tightened around his reins. “Though the gesture is appreciated, I refuse.”
Ressa smiled haughtily. “I’ve already discussed this with High Chief Burdin, and he agreed that measures must be taken to ensure Ilyenna is treated properly. If Varris reports otherwise, you will permanently lose your position as clan chief.”
Ilyenna felt such a surge of gratitude that she nearly wept.
Darrien surveyed Ressa. “Fine.” He reached toward Ilyenna again.
She wet her lips. “I’d rather walk, if that’s all right?”
Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He studied her beneath drawn brows. “Do as you wish. But keep up.”
He turned his horse and kicked him into a lope. Varris squeezed Ilyenna’s hand. “Don’t worry. Mother and I have a plan.”
“What of the steward?” Ilyenna asked.
Ressa blew out. “He’s in Deliaholm, so it will take him a few days to arrive.”
Her hand in Varris’s, Ilyenna left Cardenholm. With every step, she was aware of the growing distance between herself and those she loved. But she couldn’t bring herself to cry. Tears were for the living, not for one marked by the dead.
The group paused at midday to rest and water the oxen. A woman brought Ilyenna and Varris some dried fish and biscuits. They ate beside the river before moving on with the others. Just before dusk, the group stopped for the night. After the woman gave Ilyenna and Varris some food, she showed them to a wagon they could sleep under.
To Ilyenna’s surprise, Darrien seemed to be keeping his promise. She didn’t see him that night and only caught a few glimpses of him the next day. Just before going to bed on the third night, she saw him laughing with a Tyran girl. He glanced at Ilyenna before quickly turning back to the girl. Ilyenna thought she’d caught a glimpse of what her marriage would be like, women constantly shifting in and out of Darrien’s arms. That was fine with Ilyenna. As long as he was with them, he wouldn’t be with her.
It took nearly a week to reach Tyranholm. Ilyenna was footsore and tired, but in better shape than she’d dared hope for. Breaking into a run as they entered the village, she searched for Narium. But the older clan mistress saw her first.
With a shout, she abandoned her work in the fields and ran toward Ilyenna. “Rone? Where’s my son?”
“He’s recovering,” Ilyenna shouted back.
Narium gripped her in a fierce hug. “Recovering from what?”
Ilyenna looked away. “The Council sided against the Tyrans.” Other Argon and Shyle women were arriving. Ilyenna noted how much better they looked since Darrien hadn’t been around to beat them. If she wasn’t mistaken, most had even put on some weight. Ilyenna didn’t doubt Metha had something to do with that.
But something was wrong. She counted again. Three women were missing. “Where are Jossa, Wenly, and Kanni?”
None of the women would meet her gaze. Ilyenna turned to Narium.
The woman shook her head. “Kanni died from a fever from her whipping. Wenly replaced you in the clan house. Her skirts caught fire, and she died the next day.”
“And Jossa?” Ilyenna’s voice felt far away.
Narium folded her hands across her middle. “She made a run for it. She never came back.”
Jossa had been the one to bring Ilyenna the washing at the river the day she ran away. She felt a tremor of pain inside her, but it couldn’t gain purchase within her shattered soul. “She might have made it.”
Larina shook her head. “I overhead the Tryans talking about it. They caught her.”
Ilyenna didn’t need to ask why they didn’t bring her back. She waited for the pain to assault her, but felt only a hollow emptiness. Three women had died. Ilyenna had saved three others. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Three were slated for death, so when Ilyenna saved them, the Balance had simply taken three others.
She closed her eyes. She should have known something like this would happen. After all, it had happened before, when she’d gone to the dead asking for her father and brother to be spared.
“You’re all free.” She meant to shout it, but it came out as a whisper.
The women sagged in relief. Some of them hugged each other. A few Argon women lifted their skirts and ran to tell the men.
Narium didn’t seem relieved in the least. “What’s Rone recovering from?”
Forcing herself to meet Narium’s gaze, Ilyenna took a deep breath. “Father and Rone demanded a fight to the death. Father killed Undon. Darrien bested Rone but spared his life. He was recovering when last I saw him.”
“Why would Darrien spare my son? He’s been plotting his death for months.”
Ilyenna winced. “I . . . traded.”
“Traded what?”
“My life for his.”
Narium’s eyes went wide. “You came back to this, for Rone?”
Ilyenna didn’t answer.
Narium stared at her for the longest time. “Such devotion can’t go unrewarded. The Argons will be ever in your debt. I will ever be in your debt. It is a debt we will repay with your freedom.”
Ilyenna could see where Rone got his fierce determination. “No,” she said softly. “I’m afraid Undon and Darrien’s treachery went deeper than simply against the Shyle and Argon clans. He’s in league with the Raiders. Raiders who will be coming over the Shyle Pass.”
Narium pursed her lips. “The Council—”
“Didn’t believe me.” Ilyenna’s cheeks burned in shame. “Because Darrien claimed I was seeking revenge after he violated me. That the Raiders staged the attack on the Tyrans, that it was their doing all along.”
“After all he’s done, they believed him over you?”
Ilyenna shrugged. “He was very convincing.”
“Narium!”
Ilyenna started at the sound of Darrien’s voice. He galloped his horse toward them. He jerked the animal to a halt, then jumped down and faced Narium. “Clan Mistress Narium, Burdin has ordered you home as fast as possible to raise what’s left of your clanmen. You’re to send them to Shyle Pass.” Darrien bent low and said mockingly, “You have my apologies at the death of your husband. It was all such a tragic misunderstanding.”
N
arium balled her hands into fists. “This isn’t over.”
Excitement flashed in Darrien’s eyes. “Give my regards to your son. If he’s still alive, that is.”
Narium took a threatening step forward. “You would have done well to remember the difference between an enemy and an ally. Now it’s too late.”
He rested his hand on his axe hilt. “There is no difference.”
Narium’s gaze shifted to Ilyenna. She could see promises in the Argon clan mistresses’s eyes—promises Ilyenna knew she was in no position to keep.
Without another word, Narium turned and walked away. Varris stepped closer and squeezed Ilyenna’s hand reassuringly.
“Where are we to stay?” Ilyenna asked.
“In the women’s house,” Darrien said. He grabbed Ilyenna around the waist and kissed her hard.
Trying to imagine herself somewhere far away, Ilyenna let him.
He pulled away with a look of triumph. “Tradition,” he scoffed with a glare at Varris, “dictates we have a wedding. I’ll come for you tonight.”
Ilyenna watched him go. Wagons full of goods were being unpacked and repacked as preparations were made for war. Several recently freed tiams from the Shyle and Argon clans were gathering their things to leave.
Ilyenna stood motionless in the center of it all—certain that she was drowning all over again.
Tonight, she would marry her enemy.
24. Summer’s Gift
Ilyenna lay on the only bed in the women’s house, staring at the tiny beams of light coming through the holes in the roof. She held one beam in her hand. It left a tiny pocket of warmth on her palm.
“We just can’t leave her! You know what he’ll do,” Larina argued with the other women.
Ilyenna grunted softly. “As if you can stop him.”
“She’s your clan mistress,” Varris said hesitantly. “If she wants you to go, you should obey.”
“She won’t be my clan mistress much longer!” Larina blurted before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Ilyenna, I’m sorry.”
Ilyenna held back a smile. While she’d been away, Larina had taken it upon herself to become the Shyle clanwomen’s leader. It was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. But if Larina wanted to be a leader, it was time she learned some of the harder lessons. “Larina, you know the saying ‘Sometimes you have to lose a sheep in order to save the flock.’”
Throwing her hands in the air, Larina started pacing again. “You’re not a sheep!”
The other Shyle women watched her nervously. Ilyenna knew how desperately they wanted to run, how much they feared Darrien would change his mind and stop them. But they stayed. Partly, she guessed, out of loyalty, and partly out of guilt over leaving her behind.
With a sigh, Ilyenna released the little ray of light. She stood and gripped Larina’s shoulders, halting her pacing. “Don’t you understand? Raiders are coming over Shyle Pass. You have to warn our clan. You have to make sure your families are safe. Larina, if you’re going to be a leader, you must learn to put the clan ahead of the clanwoman.”
Wasn’t that what High Chief Burdin did? a little voice inside her nagged. What they’d all done? By the Balance, it was hard to be the one thrown to the wolves.
Ilyenna looked at each of the women in turn before her gaze settled back on Larina. “You have to help Bratton. He’ll be alone.” Larina had loved Ilyenna’s brother for years. Ilyenna had never approved, but if it got Larina out, all the better.
With a wistful look on her face, Larina gazed out the door, toward home. “But how can we leave you here with him?”
Remembering something her brother had said, Ilyenna released her. “Let the dead take care of themselves. You must concentrate on the living.”
Larina gaped at her. “You’re not dead!”
“I may as well be.”
Larina stared at her for a long time before she finally nodded. The other women kissed Ilyenna goodbye and slowly shuffled outside.
The last one out, Larina paused at the threshold. “The Shyle are strong as stone,” she whispered.
Ilyenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Supple as a sapling,” she finished. She lay back on the bed and waited for death or sleep—anything to take her away from her fate, if just for a moment.
Unfortunately, Metha came instead, barreling into the room with a bundle under one arm and a fat baby in the other. She set both down on the table and looked Ilyenna over with a critical eye. “No Tyran bride is going to look like she just walked a few hundred miles. Especially not one marrying the clan chief.”
To Metha’s credit, her voice didn’t waver. Ilyenna studied her, looking for hidden remnants of jealousy or anger. But Metha simply looked bossy.
Well, that’s nothing new, Ilyenna thought.
Ilyenna introduced Varris and Metha, then said, “And I did just walk a few hundred miles.”
“That’s no excuse for looking like it.” Metha shook out a wedding dress. This one was old, simple, and beautiful. Sky blue, the Tyrans’ color. Intricate embroidery lined the hems. Judging by the size, it had obviously been meant for Metha’s wedding.
“I can’t take your dress,” Ilyenna said.
“Humph,” Metha grunted. She hauled Ilyenna out of the bed. “Try it on so this girl of yours and I can get to taking it in.” She started pulling Ilyenna’s clothes off.
Helping only as much as was absolutely necessary, Ilyenna studied Metha. The woman was obviously flustered, but not about seeing Ilyenna’s bare skin. “I thought you hated me,” she said as they tugged the dress over her head.
Metha pulled pins out of her mouth and stabbed them into the dress. Ilyenna looked away. If she was going to be jabbed, she’d rather not know about it until it happened. Metha had almost finished them all before she finally spoke. “You were right. Darrien nearly killed me and Harrow. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have done that, especially to his child.”
Varris gasped and stared at Metha and Harrow. Metha stopped her fussing to frown at her. Varris quickly looked away. “Why didn’t he marry you?” she blurted.
Pain crossed Metha’s face but was quickly replaced by anger. “Because he’d already taken what he wanted from me. I didn’t have anything else to offer.”
Varris studied Ilyenna. “Then what does he want with you?”
Ilyenna folded the sleeve for Metha to pin. “To break me. And he wants claim to the Shyle.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And revenge for me killing his brother and for my father killing Undon.”
Metha froze, staring at Ilyenna. “Hammoth was a good man!”
Ilyenna looked away. “No. He was better than Darrien, perhaps, but good men don’t murder women and children and band with Raiders.”
“I don’t believe he did any of that.” Metha wiped her eyes as she struggled to pull herself together. “Even as a child, Darrien made sure anyone who crossed him paid dearly.” She shrugged. “I thought it would make him a good leader. It might have, if he cared about anything other than power.”
With quick, sure fingers, she undid the shoulder laces. The dress dropped to the floor, exactly as a wedding dress was meant to. Ilyenna shivered as her skin adjusted to being bare—and out of sick dread.
From the bundle Metha had brought with her, she pulled out a long sheet and a bar of soap. Normally, a procession of women would have accompanied Ilyenna from her home to the river. They would’ve helped her bathe, rubbed scented oils in her skin, and put flowers in her hair. Ilyenna was glad that part was not to be. She didn’t want the ministrations of unknown women.
Metha handed the sheet to Ilyenna. “You’ll be all right alone?”
She nodded. The only Tyran she had to fear was Darrien, and she couldn’t see him moving up their rendezvous. No, he’d make her dread every second of the wait. She wrapped the sheet around herself and hurried to the river. She did a thorough job, not for Darrien, but for herself.
Numerous fairies spun around the flowers. The blooms grew
bigger, their scent stronger. It was almost as if the summer fairies were giving Ilyenna a wedding gift. Still, she left the flowers where they grew. She was halfway back to the women’s house when Hanie appeared. The girl’s face was red from crying. Ilyenna knew she’d just learned Undon was dead—by Ilyenna’s father’s hands.
Hanie shyly handed her a fistful of brightly colored flowers, saying in a voice thick with tears, “I picked these for you. No one else would.”
Ilyenna’s heart sank at the child’s honest words. It appeared the other Tyrans wouldn’t be eager to accept Ilyenna. “Thank you, Hanie, for your kindness. It means a great deal.” Her voice tripped over the last few words, and she realized how much she really meant them.
Hanie and Metha. The only friends she had in this place.
With a small smile, Hanie turned and ran away. Ilyenna walked slowly back to the women’s house. Now that her wedding was so close, she wanted to delay as much as possible. She kicked rocks and stopped to gaze into the woods. When she arrived at the house, she sighed and went inside.
Metha looked up. “We only had time to do a running stitch. It’ll have to do.”
Ilyenna smiled for Metha’s and Varris’s benefit. “No one will notice.” She didn’t care what she looked like on her wedding day, but she wanted them to know she appreciated their efforts.
Metha yanked the sheet off and tugged the dress over Ilyenna’s head. She ran a broken-toothed comb through Ilyenna’s damp hair. She weaved a stalk of wheat in a thin braid from ear to ear across Ilyenna’s head. The only time a clanwoman wore her hair down was on her wedding day.
“Where did you find all those flowers?” Varris asked as she took them one by one and handed them to Metha, who wove them through Ilyenna’s hair.
“Hanie brought them,” Ilyenna replied.
Metha’s fingers slowed and she said, “I knew she’d come around.”
When they’d finished, Metha held up a mirror that was so old the outer edges had black, spiderweb-like cracks around the edges.