Chapter 2
MORCO
I followed the path of torches and stepped through the golden fireflies until I reached the Hall of Elders, the place where they lived together. I knocked, and one of the maidens on rotation answered.
“Morco.” She stepped aside and allowed me to enter. “I’m glad you’ve returned unscathed.”
“Is my mother well?”
“Yes. Sharper than the blade of an ax—like always.”
“Good.”
“Come with me.” She guided me to the large room in the rear, the place where the elders convened when they socialized. The fire burned in the hearth and filled the room with light. There were no windows, because a window was pointless.
Chairs and tables were placed everywhere, furs to keep warm on nights that were colder than the others. I took a seat and looked at the fire, tired from my journey but bound by my duty.
A moment later, my mother entered, dressed in her trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, her dark hair combed back, streaks of gray visible in some places. She didn’t carry herself like she was feeble, her spine straight as a soldier, her core tight, her elegance eternal.
The maid was at her side, ready to guide her once it was necessary.
“Morco.” She didn’t face me directly, but she was close, somehow knowing where I was in the room. “I feel you.”
I looked at her face, her skin tone different from mine because I was the spitting image of my father. But whatever softness I had, I’d received from her. I rose to my feet and grabbed her outstretched hands. “I am here.” It hurt to look at her, every fucking time, and it never got easier.
She squeezed my hands, her palms several sizes smaller than mine.
Her thumbs explored my knuckles and traced the veins that popped on the surface of my skin.
Her touch was her sight, and she mapped out features and faces with her hands.
“My son.” She stepped into me and hugged me, hugged me like she was the caretaker and I was the boy.
I rested my chin on her head and gripped her tightly.
“I’m glad you’ve returned as whole as you left.”
She meant well, but she killed me with guilt.
She pulled away and grabbed my hands again. “What do you report?”
I swallowed as I looked at her face, saw the empty sockets where her eyes should be, carved away by a sharp knife that had left scars all over her face.
I closed my eyes and took a breath, feeling tears form behind my eyes and start to burn.
I didn’t make a sound, gave her no indication of my sorrow.
She squeezed my hands to bring me back. “I can see your face perfectly, Morco.”
I felt the tear roll down my cheek, but I spoke with a voice as steady as my hand. “I was unable to steal the supplies we needed. But I will find another way.”
She didn’t admonish me for my failure. “We always do. We always will.” Her hands remained on mine. “Did the others make it back?”
“Yes. But we’ve brought another as well…”
She still formed expressions, even without her eyes, and somehow she conveyed confusion in the slight movements of her face. “Say what you mean, Morco.”
“The reason I failed is because a woman was cast into the Depths from above. She splashed into the water, and the sound was so loud that everyone within a mile radius heard it. Her unexpected arrival exposed our position, and we were forced to flee empty-handed.”
She processed that during a minute of silence. “And this woman is here with us now?”
“She followed me.”
“She wouldn’t have if you’d killed her. You spared her for a reason. We don’t have enough to feed ourselves, let alone another person, so state that reason.”
I’d tried to abandon her, but she’d followed my trail like she had some tracking experience.
She led them right to me, so there wasn’t much of a choice on my part.
But yes, I could have cut off her foot and left her there to be taken.
“Because she was scared.” Scared and alone, thrown into a new place with no chance of survival. It was barbaric.
My mother held her silence, looking at me head on like she could see me when she could only look at me through the memory of the past. “As you are Chief of the Obsidians, I trust your decision. But remember, you carry the weight of your kin in every decision you make. It’s for all, not for one.”
I’d spared her in a moment of weakness. Now, she had to be housed and fed at a time when we barely had enough to survive. Life was hard, and it was now harder than it’d ever been. “I understand, Mother.”
“The babies will be here soon. The mothers will need to eat to nurse their children. You must find a solution quickly.”
“I know.” I pulled my hands away from hers, feeling the weight of the responsibility that I’d taken before I was ready.
Now, it felt like a burden, to rule people in the worst of times, rather than the best like in generations past. Everyone turned to me to avenge our people, to defeat the enemy that had decimated us to a fraction of our population, to undo the decades of suffering inflicted upon us. “I will.”
She grabbed my hands again, and this time, she squeezed hard. “We always do. We always will.”
When I returned to the Gathering, Hanne was still there, at the edge of the campfire like she wanted to disappear from view but not step fully into the dark.
A petite woman at least five years younger than me, she had hair that was almost blond, a mess around her face because of the way it had dried after falling into the lake, a fall that should have broken her neck, if not every bone in her body.
But her most distinctive feature was her eyes—a color I’d never seen.
They were more than just blue, deep in color and brilliance, a color I could barely describe.
She was blessed with a royal appearance, high cheekbones and fair cheeks, a collarbone sharp like the curve of a knife.
I didn’t ask her many questions because the details of her past were irrelevant now. And to be honest, I just didn’t care.
My mind was full of my own concerns. Concerns that plagued me day and night. Concerns that haunted me in my sleep and jolted me awake. The respect and admiration I received from my people was suffocating and undeserved.
Caius was nearby with his back to her, like he was trying to keep an eye on her in my stead without making it obvious she was being watched.
I approached him. “Prepare one of the cabins for her.”
“So, she’s staying?” he asked, his disappointment clear.
I glanced at her, where she tried to hide in the shadows. Her eyes found mine, like she knew I’d come for her. “You know what they’ll do to her.” I looked at Caius again. “She said she didn’t have a sword, like she’s used to having one. Perhaps she’ll be of use to us.”
“Her only use will be to bear sons, but she’s not one of us.” He only spoke to me so candidly because we were alone together, out of earshot of the others. I wasn’t the type of leader that demanded unflinching loyalty and ironclad obedience. We were too vulnerable to have such an ego.
“Prepare the cabin, Caius.”
This time, there was no disagreement. He walked off to follow my orders.
I approached her, releasing a heavy sigh when I drew near.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she took a step back when I came too close, like she didn’t trust me even though I’d guaranteed her safety.
But her eyes told a different story—that if I lunged at her, she would lunge right back.
The contradiction between her stare and her body language was prominent.
“Caius is preparing your cabin.”
“Will I stay there alone?”
“Yes.”
“Does the door lock—”
“No one will hurt you here.”
“Really? Because I don’t feel welcome.”
“It’s not personal.”
“Does the door lock or not?”
“Yes.”
Her arms remained crossed over her chest. “May I have a sword?”
“You don’t need one right now.”
“I disagree.”
“I said, no one will hurt you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“As Chief of the Obsidians, I do.”
Her hypnotic eyes flicked back and forth between mine once she understood exactly who she was dealing with. “I thought you might be in charge, but the leader usually sends others to do his bidding.”
“We have too few people for that.”
“What were you doing—”
“It’s been many days since I slept.” I didn’t feel like explaining a lifetime of war and conflict to a stranger. “Rations are served twice a day. Earn your keep here, and the others will accept you.”
“That means I can stay?” The hardness in her eyes faded, and now she looked scared again, abandoned to a fate that was worse than death, in my opinion.
There were no guarantees. I wouldn’t put the one before the many—even if I did pity her. “Only time will tell.”
I bathed then had dinner alone in my cabin, the fire burning low to warm the home after it’d gone cold in my absence. Dead tired and ready for bed, I sat in the chair in front of the fire and reflected on everything that had happened.
I needed food for my people, and I’d failed.
It was hard to hunt game in the dark. Traps worked sometimes. There were fish in the lake, but they were so few and far between, it wasn’t a reliable meal. We couldn’t grow our food without the apricum, so we were slowly starving.
And it was up to me to fix it.
A knock sounded on the door, and then it cracked open.
She helped herself inside without waiting for my invitation, her long, dark hair past her tits, her eyes hungry for my flesh.
She came to me where I sat in the armchair and immediately straddled my hips and dropped her bottom onto my lap.
“I missed you.” She cupped my cheek, and then she kissed me hard like she wanted me to take her to bed.
Overwhelmed with responsibility that was about to crack my spine in two, I pushed her off.
“I’m not in the mood, Allegra.” I rose from the chair and walked to the opposite side of the room, in the comfortable trousers I wore whenever I was home, which was almost never. “And I don’t think you are either.”
She stood with her back to the fire, her eyes slowly cracking at the accusation. “You know what is expected of us, Morco.”
To conceive the next generation, to repopulate as quickly as possible, to replace the people we’d lost, as if they were replaceable in the first place. “I don’t want to do it.”
She stepped closer to me, moving slowly like I was an animal that might scurry off at her proximity. “You need an heir.”
“Why would I have a child and burden them with responsibility that no person should have to bear? All we do is survive, and I don’t want to have a child, just to watch him have the same life that I’ve suffered. He deserves more.”
“Morco, I understand—”
“You don’t understand at all, Allegra. You’ve only chosen me because I’m the chief, because of the royal blood in my veins, because I’m the strongest and the fittest here.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “Yes, that’s exactly why I’ve chosen you.”
“I don’t want children. And if I did, it would be under different circumstances, and it would be with a woman I’ve committed my life to, a woman I love. None of those circumstances applies here, Allegra. Choose another partner.”
“But the Elders, including your mother—”
“I don’t care.” I wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t take on the additional responsibility of a child when I carried the responsibility of our entire tribe. “And I don’t love you, Allegra. If you want to fuck for pleasure, you know where to find me. But I will not fuck to conceive.”
I saw a subtle flinch across her face, like something I said got under her skin. Her eyes even flicked away. “Morco, I don’t want to choose someone else. You’re the man I want to father my children.”
“How many times do I have to say it?”
“I want to give my son the best chance to survive—”
“Do you think we’re going to survive?” I asked incredulously.
“Some of us will starve to death. Some of us will succumb to disease. And the children who are born of these horrible circumstances will be forced to fend for themselves. We continue to tread water like a ship is coming—but there is no ship.”
Her eyes watered, and she started to step back. “You don’t mean that. You tell us to keep going.”
“It’s all a bunch of bullshit. We’re all going to die in horrible fucking ways.”
She continued to back up to the door. “The basilisks—”
“That will never happen, Allegra. The apricum will change, and if it’s in our direction, we’re fucked.” The light would transfer to another root bulb and illuminate our area, and if that was the case, the Knives would find us. “We’re fucked, no matter what.”