by Cara Bristol
Honna fluttered her hands. “The fever will pass. All I need to do is endure until it does. I’ll be fine. You do not need to worry about me.” Her expression turned pleading.
Ellynna’s eyes narrowed slightly.
That look! Uh oh…
“I understand your reluctance. However, the law of Sharona requires all able women to beget a daughter—and preferably two. You are my niece, my closest blood relative next to my daughter. Reena will not likely become queen or produce an heiress, so you must.”
The truth. Finally. She thought she’d wanted it, but it lay there as dark and heavy as a funeral shroud. In her bleakest moments, she’d been able to cling to hope because of her mother’s optimism. Reena sagged and peeked at her cousin. She looked as deflated as Reena felt.
“The Lahon are animals,” Honna protested. “They are rough and hairy. They grunt and they sweat. Their man smell is disgusting.” Her lip curled.
“I would take your place if I could,” Reena offered. She would gladly accept a grunting, perspiring, odiferous barbarian over death any day. Or for no other reason than to experience again what it felt like to be normal and healthy. To repay the gift of being born a woman by producing a daughter.
Honna shook her head. “Easy to say when you haven’t suffered through it.” A typical comeback. “I’ve gone through it twice and birthed two sons.”
“But no daughters,” Ellynna said. “Under the law of Sharona, you are required to try once more before you are exempt.”
“Perhaps the next cycle.”
“It would not be wise to wait,” Ellynna said quietly.
Because Reena might not be alive then, and the queen needed to ensure her lineage. While her mother didn’t say it, the meaning was clear. I’m going to die. I will never experience a mating. I will never even see a barbarian.
“Aunt—”
“You leave in two days.”
“What if the Lahon are not subdued by my mating essence, and I am captured?”
“Those are stories spread by women who would shirk their duty. In any case, a couple of guards will accompany you to ensure your safety and assist with the hunt.”
Honna opened her mouth, but Ellynna cut her off with a wave. “Enough! I have made my wishes clear.”
The queen embraced Reena. “I am glad you are well today, Daughter,” she said, and then patted her niece on the shoulder before sweeping away.
Honna’s face contorted, and she fisted her hands at her sides, glared at Reena as if she was to blame, then stormed away.
I am to blame. If I was healthy and could produce a daughter and heir, Honna would not have to do this.
Chapter Four
At the click, Reena opened her eyes. Honna leaned against the door. “Are you asleep?” she whispered.
Reclining against a mound of pillows in the huge canopied bed, Reena scooted to a more upright position. “No. I was resting my eyes.” Perhaps she’d relapsed or the morning’s excitement had taken its toll, but she’d grown fatigued.
“I came to apologize for my outbursts. Because of the fever, I do not feel like myself, but I should not have taken out my frustration on you. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course.” She smiled. They could never stay upset or angry with each other for very long.
Her cousin approached the bed and pulled aside the drapery to perch on the edge. “I have a proposal I think will suit both of us. You know, I’ve been worried about leaving you.”
“You shouldn’t. I’ll be fine. You’ll only be gone for a little while anyway.”
Honna nibbled her lower lip. “I’m also aware of how curious you are about the Lahon. How would you like to see them for yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“How would you like to accompany me on the manhunt?”
“Mother would never permit it.” Her pulse raced at the prospect of seeing a barbarian in the flesh.
“She would. I already asked her.”
“She said yes?” Reena widened her eyes. “You’re jesting. How?”
Honna’s hesitation revealed the answer. Because observing from afar is the closest I will ever come to mating, and my mother seeks to grant my dying wish. A measure of excitement receded. Why, now, when she felt better, did people assume the worst? Could it be a symptom of her malady that she rallied before she keeled over?
“I convinced her that due to your remission, you can handle the journey. She knows how interested you are in the Lahon, so she agreed to let you accompany me under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You resume taking the herb.”
Reena grimaced. “All right.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad you’ll join me. It will make this whole experience bearable. I can rest easy knowing I’m there to care for you, and you’ll get to see the Lahon. Perhaps then you’ll realize they’re not what you’ve built them up to be in your mind.” Honna dug into her medicine pouch and extracted a small vial, which she emptied into a goblet sitting on the bedside table. After filling the glass with water, she handed it to Reena. “Drink up.”
Wrinkling her nose, she took a sip and fought off a shudder.
Honna smiled approvingly. “I’ll go make the arrangements for our journey. We’ll leave when dawn breaks on the morrow.” She swept out of the bedchamber.
Reena spit the liquid into the goblet, and dumped the contents into a vase of droopy, browning illianna blossoms. Though they’d been cut fresh yesterday, when she’d awakened this morning the flowers had been half dead. Well, maybe the herbs would perk them up—though last night’s dose hadn’t them done any good.
* * * *
The metal hinged and latched wooden gates clanked shut, and Reena feigned wonder, pretending she’d never been outside the palace walls. She didn’t have to fake much—it had been years since she’d ventured outside, and much had changed. The surrounding wood appeared denser, the trees stouter and taller than she remembered. Shrubbery and flowers in variation and profusion grew in haphazard array. Compared to the careful cultivation of the palace garden and the relative orderliness of the hamlets, the outside was so, so wild. Like the Lahon. Excitement bubbled up. I’m going to see a living, breathing man! Reena tilted her head. Space and freedom made the sky appear bluer, more expansive. Even the air seemed different, scented with promise—despite her cousin’s unhappy expression.
“Which way do we go?” she asked, refusing to let Honna’s moroseness dampen her enthusiasm.
“East.” Honna pointed to a narrow footpath leading into the wood.
Somewhere out there Lahon roamed. Reena had never thought she’d see this day. She glanced back at the heavy gate. “Will Carinda be meeting us here?”
“No. It’s just us.”
“What? We’re not going alone, are we?”
“We are.”
“I know you two don’t always agree—”
“This has nothing to do with her. I figured you would enjoy the experience more if we didn’t have guards dogging our every move.”
Reena bit her lip. It was well and good to say the Lahon weren’t a threat when one was protected by high stone walls, but, out here, they were exposed, vulnerable. What if the men were dangerous? “I thought—does my mother know we’re traveling without guards?” Even though she seemed to be in remission and Ellynna would want to indulge her wishes, her mother would never approve an unescorted journey.
“I thought it better to not mention I did not request a guard detail.”
Misgivings fluttered in Reena’s stomach. She didn’t want to travel with a security force, but was it wise to travel alone?
“It has been a long time since Aunt Ellynna has been on a hunt, and she has forgotten how skittish the Lahon can be. A contingent of Sharona might scare them off.”
Skittish? That didn’t sound right. Hadn’t Honna always said the Lahon were brutal? “I don’t understand.”
“Besides, we don’t need guards when I have this.” Honna patted a bu
lge on her hip. “An EID.”
“You have an EID?” Only a select few guards carried the weapons, powered by a rare crystal. Harnessing and controlling the energy required training and focus. “You know how to use that?”
“I’ve been practicing. One zap and a Lahon will go down like a bird shot from the sky.”
“Won’t it kill him?”
“Not if I set it for temporary disablement.”
“How will you mate with him if he’s disabled?”
“A man does need to be conscious to mate, but this will subdue him if he gets violent.” She patted the weapon again and then anchored her hands on her hips. “Now, you remember your agreement?”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh. There’d been a few more conditions besides having to resume the medicine: follow Honna’s directions at all times, maintain a safe distance from the Lahon, stay out of sight, and do not, under any circumstances, attempt to engage one.
She’d agreed—but she didn’t have to like it. Or obey when she could avoid it. Just that morning, she’d dosed the desiccated illianna blooms on her bedside table again before the servant came to remove them.
Her cousin’s shoulders drooped like the flowers as she gestured toward the path. “Let’s go. If you grow weary and need to rest, tell me.” She linked her arm through Reena’s and urged them toward the woods at a surprisingly brisk pace. If Reena hadn’t been feeling better the last few days, such a fast walk would have sapped her energy in no time.
“You’re frowning.” Honna’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “Is the pain too much to bear?” She halted. “It was a bad idea to bring you along. I should take you back to the palace.”
“No! I promise I can make it.” Reena freed her arm. “I don’t want to ruin your manhunt.” She had to get out of her sickbed, away from the palace and the well-intentioned, cloying concern. And, most of all, she had to see the Lahon!
“I doubt anything you might do could ruin it,” Honna said dryly.
“Please, come on. Let’s proceed,” Reena begged, sidling backward toward the forest. She had to walk the line between seeming-good health—which would prompt Honna to force more herbs upon her—and sickness, which would result in cancellation of the journey. Whenever she announced she felt better, Honna would dose her again to enhance the positive effects. But, in the long run, it wouldn’t make a difference.
“All right.” Honna sighed. “I can’t refuse you.”
Reena grinned. “I am the queen’s daughter.”
“Yes, you are.”
A gentle light filtered through the forest, and the melody of birdsong and the perfume of fresh green wood and fertile earth drifted on the air. Morning dew glistened on fronds. Underfoot, the path was strewn with dried leaves packed to a firm trail.
“Do you always go this way?” Reena asked.
“If by always, you mean twice before, then yes. It’s called the Trail of Rapture. Other routes exist, but this is the main one toward the Lahon settlement.”
“We go all the way to their village?”
“No. The Sharona have erected small huts along the trail for mating.” Her lip curled the way it always did when she spoke of it.
“You hate it that much?”
“I hate them,” she said. “Their touch, their look, their smell.” She rubbed her crystal, a deep blue, darker even than cyan.
“I am sorry the queen ordered you to do this.” Reena did not understand her aversion but empathized with having limited options.
“The first one was the worst. Thick and muscled, he lumbered like an ox. Hairy as one, too.” She shuddered. “Harsh facial features. Rough hands. When he spoke, he grunted and growled like an animal.”
Aghast, Reena stared. “Then why did you pick him?”
“I didn’t! That’s the point. The fever compelled me, forced me into committing revolting acts. Afterward, I rushed away to bathe and wash his stench from my body. I am thankful the mating did not produce a daughter. His features were so strong, she would have been as ugly as he!”
Any child was a gift. Even a son, although the Sharona reared only their daughters. Reena had vivid memories of her cousin’s first birthing. The infant had been large and the labor long. The herbs provided by the previous palace healer had done little to dull the pain, and shrieks and screams had filled the corridor.
Still a child, Reena had clapped her hands over her ears and prayed to be released from the obligation of childbirth. Had the Goddess granted her selfish wish? Was that why she’d been stricken?
I didn’t mean it!
Reena swallowed. “I remember. You birthed your son in winter.”
Her cousin contorted her face as if she’d ingested her own medicine. “Not my son. His.”
“And you delivered him to his father?”
Her disgust evaporated, and she smiled. “Yes.”
Chapter Five
“What is that? Give it to me!” Keeping her electrical impulse disruptor level, the guard snatched unguent jar. She eyed it before raising it to her nose. She jerked her head. “Good Goddess!” With a grimace, she shoved it back at him.
He scooped out a measure and smeared it above his lip. He didn’t notice the foul odor anymore. Almost.
“What is that for, anyway?” she demanded.
“Respiratory ailment.” Insurance. In case numbness failed him. He sniffed. All he smelled was unguent. Either the ester was doing its job or the guard was safe. However, once he entered the palace, he would be surrounded by Sharona, and ate least some of them would be in fever.
“The Lahon don’t often seek an audience with the queen,” the guard said.
“Lahon aren’t invited,” he replied. To say he’d been greeted with suspicion would be an understatement. The guard had nearly blasted him with her EID when he’d approached the wall. Another had confiscated his dagger and frisked him.
He’d managed to convince them to deliver his missive of “mutual import.” The guard who had taken his weapon had left to do so. He counted on curiosity outweighing reluctance—for the Sharona’s sake. If Shara refused him, he was prepared to take more aggressive action.
Garat blew out a huff of air, and fidgeted, wondering how long he’d have to wait—if the queen would agree to see him at all. He used the opportunity to size up the sentry. The hood of her gray utilitarian robe was pulled back to reveal short, dark hair, and while her face was not unattractive, it was pinched with distrust. Tension had stiffened her stocky, muscular frame. In general, Sharona tended to be smaller, softer, more rounded, but he supposed ones in her position were chosen for their brawn. Still, he didn’t doubt he could overpower her and force his way into the village.
Except the EID evened the odds. He’d been hit by a disruptor blast once before. It had knocked him out and on his ass. When he’d regained consciousness, he’d found himself supine and chained to a hard wooden-plank bed, a Sharona on top of him. Enveloped by her scent and essence, his body had betrayed him.
He’d just matured into manhood. Lust had been a steady companion, and he’d hoped to meet a Sharona. He’d pored over The Goddess’s Book of Pleasures, a tome she’d inspired to prepare her people for mating. Reality had turned out much different from how it was described in the book or in his eager expectations.
Passion could distort one’s expression, but revulsion, not lust had twisted the Sharona’s features as she’d stolen his volition. That he could respond to someone who loathed him shamed him. Under the influence of rapture, he’d given his name when she’d demanded it. She’d not shared hers. He would never forget her face—or how he’d found his son’s blue, frozen body many months later.
Among the numerous Sharona who inhabited the villages, the chances of encountering her would be slim. But what if he did? Could he set aside personal concerns for the good of his people? His promise to himself to avenge what had been stolen from him competed with his duty to secure his people’s future.
His needs vs. the Lahon’s.
/> The massive gate clanked open, and the returning guard brought three others. “The queen will see you,” she said. She narrowed her eyes with warning before beckoning him to follow her into the compound. Two others moved to his flanks, while another took up the rear.
Their route meandered the twisted alleys of small hamlets, a trail chosen to confuse. Had the guard taken this course to deliver his request, he still would have been waiting outside the gates.
Female children gawked with a mixture of amazement and fear; women of age stared with equal parts interest and distrust. He could tell right away which ones were in fever by the heat and length of their glances. The wind carried a flickering scent of mating pheromone, but he turned his mind away and focused on his objective—while scanning faces for the one in his nightmares.
When they finally emerged from the narrow byways, the palace towered in crystal glory, its blocks hand-chiseled to precise specification by Lahon artisan craftsmen of yore. Did the Sharona credit the Lahon for building the palace in the time before the Goddess had determined her children could not live in harmony and separated them? Or did they choose not to acknowledge the contribution of their adversaries and sometimes mates?
They marched through an arched entrance into a grand hall.
Inside, the mating scent grew stronger, but his body noted it as a weak tug upon his loins. Numbness, boosted by Meloni’s unguent, shielded him.
Dressed in floor-dusting robes secured by gold-and-cyan braids, the Sharona swayed about their business like swans on a pond, gliding along corridors as if marble were water. No Lahon moved in such a fluid manner. These Sharona were different from their compatriots called to guard duty. Their shoulders were more slender, their hips wider. Their chests appeared neither flat nor muscled, but rounded, bountiful. Smaller in stature, they had to look up to meet his eyes—though few did, and even the bravest ones never held his gaze for very long. Without the levelers of the mating fever to subdue a man’s spirit and a charged EID, the Sharona didn’t have a chance against a Lahon’s much greater strength. He knew it. And so did they.