by Claudia King
“You should never have sought me out,” she said under her breath. “Why couldn't you forget about me?”
“Only the spirits know,” he whispered back.
To Adel's relief Jarek stepped away when the warrior returned with a waterskin for her.
“Cut their bindings,” he told the man. Unlike the pilgrims, who had always been hesitant when dealing with their captive Moon People, the warrior drew the long blade from his belt and obeyed without question. Adel could not help but admire the polished sheen of the weapon. It was a glittering bronze just like the one Liliac had presented to her, though slightly marked and dulled from use.
She nursed her raw wrists as the cords came away, wincing as she touched the hot and sticky flesh. There was no doubt in her mind now that the wounds had become infected. Once Kiren had been freed she asked the girl to show her her wrists as well. To Adel's relief they were only a little chafed.
Before long Liliac's people were preparing their canoes for the river again, though it seemed that Adel and Kiren would not be joining them this time. All part of Thakayn's plan, no doubt, to ensure that no one suspected the pilgrims had returned with captives. Before they departed Liliac took a furry bundle from his canoe and handed it to Jarek.
“The sorceress wore this. A spirit totem, I think, so I kept it from her.”
Jarek stroked the fox pelt headdress in his hands, smiling down at it as he wandered back toward Adel.
“It's different,” he said softly, speaking in the language of his birth pack. It was a tongue Adel had barely used in years, but the moment she heard it the shapes of its words began filling her mouth again.
“Nothing lasts forever,” she replied.
Jarek frowned, and she sensed that she had finally shattered the whimsical joy that been sweeping him along. For her those feelings had only lasted a few moments, but Jarek had always been a romantic soul. What had he been thinking this whole time? That he could use his power to keep her safe? That she might stay here and they would be together again?
It hurt her to see the optimism drain from his face, but it was better this way. She took her headdress from him stiffly and set it back atop her head. Mother Fox's presence brought her little solace today. Her hands were trembling, and she hated to think that it might be a result of something other than her fever.
“Walk with me, will you?” Jarek said. The group of warriors seemed ready to depart, and the pilgrims were shoving their canoes off the bank one by one. Thakayn stood at the edge of a dirt path leading along the edge of the river, watching them thoughtfully from a distance.
Adel glanced around at the group and said, “Where else would I walk?”
“Away from the others, I mean. There are so many things I want to say.”
“Adel?” Kiren piped up behind her. “Where are we going?”
Glad for the excuse to ignore Jarek for a moment, she turned to the girl and explained the brief exchange that had taken place within the building. She mentioned nothing of her relationship with Jarek, nor that he was like them.
“We'll not try to run any more,” Adel explained. “I've no strength for it anyway. We are the guests of these Sun People now.”
Kiren nodded. “When you've rested, then. We should try to stop taking the poison they've been feeding us. As soon as we have our wolves then we can—” She stopped suddenly, a look of shock crossing her face as she looked over Adel's shoulder. “I think the dark man understands what we're saying,” she hissed.
“Perhaps he does. Don't concern yourself with it.”
“Don't concern myself with it?!”
“Not now, girl, please.” Adel rubbed her forehead, feeling the ache in her temples throbbing anew. She lacked the energy to think of how to explain it all to Kiren. How could she explain it? And what if the girl did something foolish that exposed Jarek to the Sun People? Despite all of her fraught emotions, she understood that her former lover was the greatest ally they had now. He seemed to hold power over these people—an alpha's power. Enough to challenge Thakayn, who had wanted to secret them away without anyone knowing. It chilled her to think of what the golden-haired priest had wanted to do with them that demanded such secrecy.
Despite Kiren's exasperation she fell in line when the group began moving, seeming relieved to be able to stretch her legs again. Three of the armoured warriors flanked her on either side with Thakayn walking behind them, but Jarek hung back. When Adel struggled to walk without swaying, he offered her his arm.
“Just bring me a staff,” she said.
Orec would have argued with me about that, Adel thought as Jarek called for one of the guards to bring his spear and remove the metal tip. She swallowed and looked away, trying not to think of how playful young Jarek had always known when to argue with her and when not to. It wasn't because he was subservient or weak-willed, no; it was because even after all these years he still understood Adel like a craftsman understood his flint. He knew when she was being stubborn and when she was sincere. Had he insisted on helping her she would only have rebuffed him even harder. Realising that, Adel almost stepped forward and took his arm out of spite.
Yet she did not. She didn't want to feel the shock of touching him again. She didn't want to remember the way she had always enjoyed seeing her pale skin contrasting against the rich darkness of his.
The warrior removed the tip of his spear with surprising ease. The metal part seemed to be fixed into a ring that could be twisted off with relatively little force. Perhaps so that it could be repaired? Had Adel's mind been clearer she would have dwelt on it further, pondered how the design worked, tried to imagine whether it could be done with flint spears as well.
Walking back to her, Jarek presented her with the spear haft. It would have been too long and awkward for most women, but Adel stood taller than any of the Sun People's warriors. Only Thakayn matched her in height, she realised.
With the aid of the pole she found walking much easier, though she still lagged behind the rest of the group. If the warriors were nervous about Jarek accompanying her alone they showed no sign of it. Did they even know who she was? Did men this loyal ever question their leaders?
Eventually, when they had fallen far enough behind to be out of earshot, Jarek said, “Do your people always greet one another like that these days?”
She looked over at him. The fool was grinning and rubbing at the marks her fingernails had left on his neck.
“What did you expect me to do?” she said hotly, but as soon as the words left her mouth there followed a surge of guilt. Had she not that very day spoken to Kiren about judging people for what they were rather than blindly following her first assumptions? It was a lesson Adel was still struggling to learn for herself, apparently.
Jarek said, “Perhaps I expected you to give me your kisses, scold me for my jokes, rage at me about your father?” He took a flat stone from a pouch on his belt and skimmed it out over the river. Adel ignored his jesting. Rather than sounding hopeful, he now seemed reflective.
“Tell me what happened,” she said. She needed to know. It was a question that had been burning at the back of her mind for years. It had driven her to the brink of despair so many times, and now finally she would have her answer. “What happened to you when my father sent me to Alpha Khelt's pack?”
Jarek fell silent, and for a moment there was only the sound of their feet trudging the dirt path together.
“Your brother came to try and kill me.”
It had been so long ago. Adel thought she had started to forget her hatred for her father and the dull-witted brother who had followed his every word, but as Jarek spoke of him she felt herself gripping the spear haft tightly.
“I thought so,” she said, her voice surprisingly devoid of emotion. “He wouldn't tell me, but I remember the guilt on his face. I never knew whether it was guilt for having killed you, or guilt because he failed.”
“I waited for you, you know,” Jarek said. The sudden sombreness of his words
sent a chill down Adel's spine. “I don't know how many days I waited by our pool. I hoped you might slip away from Khelt and come looking for me. In the end I realised I could either lose my mind waiting forever, or I could leave.” He flicked another stone out into the river. It skipped once and then sank. “I suppose you are still Khelt's mate?”
“I was never his mate,” Adel said quickly, trying to ignore the regret welling up inside her. He had waited for her. If only she'd gone back to look... But she had been so full of anger in those days. So afraid of sparking a new fight between Khelt and her father. “Why did you come here?”she said. “Why not go back to your own people?”
“Neman would have made war on your father had he known what your brother did, and your father might have made war on us if he knew I was still alive. I knew you wouldn't want that.”
Adel nodded bitterly. Those foolish alphas. Their bloody feuds had been the cause of so much strife. “These days your people tell tales about how I beckoned you away into the spirit world,” she said.
“You may as well have.”
Her chest tightened, and she had to breathe in and out a few times before she was able to speak again. When she did, it had to be about something else. Something far distant from their shared past.
“How are you an alpha to these people? How do they not know what you are?”
Jarek hesitated, though it seemed more out of habit than any genuine reluctance to tell her. “Only one of them does, and he is the only one who matters. The Dawn King found a lost boy of the Moon People wandering his lands long ago, and he made him a high priest. It was a fool's luck, I suppose.” He gave her an apologetic look. “They must have fed you the same herbs I take to bring you back here. I'm so sorry it happened like this.”
“Save your sympathy. Tell me of these herbs. They put our wolves to sleep?”
“Quicker than any sleeping medicine. Whenever I feel my wolf rising, whenever I take a wound that begins to heal too quickly, I sprinkle some into my water. Then I am no different from anyone else. I even made sure I caught the winter sickness one year when the whole temple was suffering with it.”
She felt him looking at her, and kept her eyes fixed ahead. The walk was already exhausting. Perhaps it was the fever making her breath short, her legs weak, pressing tears into the corners of her eyes.
“Adel, Adel,” Jarek mused. “Is it true? Do you lead all the people in your lands now?”
“What foolish tale is that?” she gasped. “I have a pack. The clans fear the sorceress who leads it, but they do not follow me.”
“Still, your legend spreads all the way to these heartlands. I knew it could only be you. The only woman to challenge the strength of alphas.”
“I am not the only woman.”
Another stiff silence. It was getting harder to talk. Harder to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The sun beat down on her back mercilessly.
At last Jarek spoke. “What I need to know, Adel—”
“No.”
“No what? No I don't need to know? No you won't answer?”
“Stop it.” She turned on him, the world swimming before her eyes. It was the fever. It was the angry tears blurring her vision. It was the upwelling of suppressed pain in her heart. “I forgot you. I held on as long as I could, and it was breaking me! Tell me you forgot as well. Tell me you have a woman waiting for you over in that village.”
He shook his head with a sad smile. “There was never any other woman. Not like you.”
Adel stifled a sob. She swung the staff at him, stumbling as it hit him lightly across the chest. “Why not, you fool?! Why didn't you try to forget me? Why hang on?”
He took the staff and set it gently back against the ground. His fingers brushed hers. “Because your spirit always kept coming back to me.”
“What, then? Do you hope I can be your mate now? A woman of the Moon People, in these lands?! Or will you run away with me back to the mountains? I wonder if my father will find a reason to try and kill your family then!”
“I know,” he said, and the solemn understanding in his voice stopped her dead. He sounded like a child who had just lost something precious. A boy accepting the death of a relative after praying for days that they might come back. Could it be that he had been anticipating this moment for years? Hoping, yet preparing himself for the worst at the same time?
“What do you know?” she demanded.
“I am a high priest. This is my home. These are my people, and yours are a long way from here.” He smiled at her, and now she saw the shimmer of tears in his eyes too. “I know it can never be. I am only happy that I got to see you again. I'm happy I have been given the chance to remember what we had. It was wrong for it to end the way it did.”
Overwhelmed with emotion, Adel felt herself falling forward against him, tears spilling down her face. Her warm cheek met his bare chest. His arms encircled her. She no longer feared his touch, yet what she felt now was almost worse. Old, fading memories. Hope sparked anew and then lost. A touch she had longed for, and could never have. The heat and the fever she could endure. This, she could not.
“What are you doing?” Thakayn's sharp voice called back at them.
“The seeress is only resting,” Jarek replied, though his voice, soft and warm against the top of Adel's head, seemed almost too gentle to have been meant for Thakayn's ears. “She will be well again soon. I fear the sun is too much for her this day.”
—16—
The Dawn King
Kiren wished she could have been with anyone else. Netya, Kale, Vaya; all of them would have been fine companions to find solidarity with in such a trying time. Netya's mate Caspian would have had a simple, pragmatic way of handling things too, or Huntress Fern, who was a little like Vaya, but with a much softer temperament.
Yet Adel was Adel. Aloof, withdrawn, slow to act and quick to judge. For a brief time during the beginning of their captivity Kiren had hoped the den mother might be willing to take the action necessary to win their freedom, yet ever since their first failed escape attempt she had done nothing but sit and wait. Perhaps she was scheming something, or perhaps she just thought she knew better than everyone else. Whatever the case, Kiren still did not trust the den mother fully, and as they approached the Sun People's village at nightfall she felt more troubled than ever by their predicament. How long would they be captives here, and what, if anything, was Adel planning to do about it?
The settlement looked as if someone had kicked a fire's embers down the side of the hill, spreading bright little orange coals along the slope alongside the dark husks of houses. The house at the top was very big indeed, bigger than any Kiren had seen so far, and she counted a great many embers shining through the holes in its walls. She found herself dreading the place. What did the spirit of the hill think about this glowing crown the Sun People had built around its head? Were all those lights inside fires, or were they the angry breath of the spirit itself?
As the house drew closer she imagined the largest light at the front as the spirit's mouth, and all the smaller ones around it as its eyes. It seemed like a spider, then, with the angular corners of the house forming the crooks of its legs. For a moment Kiren was afraid, wondering whether there was a pit inside that house like the one Ilen Ra had thrown her into, but she swallowed her fear and set her eyes back on the path ahead of them. Staring at that house was only making her an enemy of her own imagination.
The high priest called Thakayn had eventually taken the lead after watching her for most of the journey, and now he was speaking to one of his warriors in hushed tones. Kiren could understand a few words in the Sun People's tongue, and she had been getting better at it during their time on the river, but she was not yet able to untangle the meaning of full conversations. Part of her was almost reluctant to try, for it was Ilen Ra who had begun teaching her the language, and she had to think back to his lessons every time something confused her. She wanted nothing from that man, not even his knowledge.
Kiren glanced back over her shoulder to see the den mother and the dark-skinned high priest still walking a short distance behind them. Adel had been behaving strangely all afternoon. She'd spent a long time with that man now. He was strange, too, and not just because of the way he looked. He reminded Kiren of some of the men she had seen at the great gathering, and she wondered whether there were dark people like him everywhere in the world. The way Adel walked beside him, the way they seemed to talk, it was all wrong somehow. The den mother no longer seemed like the stern, tightly composed woman Kiren had known back in the valley.
She rubbed her sore wrists, frustrated by the lingering sting. The pain was taking far longer to fade than she would have expected, and thinking about Adel was not helping her mood. She'd still not forgiven the den mother for the way she had treated Vaya. But Vaya was gone, and Adel was her only friend in this strange land now.
Judging by the size of the village, Kiren had expected it to be roaring with life the same way the gathering had been, but as they drew nearer it seemed strangely subdued. The path had turned toward the settlement at a ford in the river, thickening and growing muddy with the tracks of the people who had waded across. Up ahead of them a line of men were rolling a huge log into the village, and when Kiren looked back she saw another handful of figures dismantling a raft made from similarly enormous lengths of timber.
They must be the ones from the forest village, she thought. Perhaps the Sun People brought all of their building wood from the forest, for she had seen no trees in this land large enough to make the canoes they used.