Chapter Six
Vonetta
When I wake in the morning, it is with a startled awareness.
No longer in our chosen spaces within the furs, our bodies have been drawn together in the night.
I lay on my side, curled against the lean male form in front of me.
My face is nestled in sandy hair that smells like smoke and sea air.
An arm is draped over my middle, and a large hand splayed across my stomach.
I don’t move. I don’t know how to untangle myself from them without disturbing their sleep.
My mind is filled with images of last night's Rite. Smoke and bodies. Oaths and the dream-like vision of the spirits. Full of the things that came after…Gentle hesitant kisses on my neck, a hand at my waist…Naedra. Warmth climbs its way up from my belly to my cheeks.
The space feels smaller now, and my nerves are magnified as I remember the things I was too elated to register as anything but natural last night.
I remain still, trapped between them. I take in Wren's profile from this angle.
He is beautiful, reserved even in sleep.
A lithe God carved from stone. He is smaller in build than Chiron, and softer, I think.
A body formed in the lifting of tomes and climbing of shelves—a scholar's build.
Though I cannot see him, I can feel the weight of Chiron behind me.
He is heavy and muscled; his strength and sculpting are not given him, but earned.
The contrast between them is the moon from the sun.
Both magnificently crafted, but by different hands and for different purposes.
I hear Chiron's breathing change, moving from the realm of sleep.
My body tenses because now I am being observed as well.
With a deep inhalation, his arm moves off of me, and Chiron rolls to his back.
His absence leaves a coolness at my back, but I feel immense relief to be able to move now.
I sit up in the furs and pull at my tresses.
The revelry of the evening has left them tangled and in need of a comb.
I chance a glance behind me to Wren, who is still very much asleep. Good, I think we’ll take these introductions one at a time.
I look over my other shoulder to Chiron, who is now propped on his elbows, a wary and crooked smile on his full lips. I smile too, tentatively.
Chiron is his own kind of beautiful. Dark hair has fallen across his forehead, sleep mussed.
It makes him appear younger than he is, more boyish, but his jaw is just as defined as I saw last night.
His eyes are brown, starkly so. Deep and loamy at the outer rim, and rich dark honey toward his pupil, creased at the edges but jovial now.
They are crinkled with his deep grin; he clearly finds this all so amusing.
But this is an improvement on the sad man he was last night, and I will take it. He speaks first, quietly.
“Wife, good morning.”
I choke on the gasp that tries to erupt from my throat. Wife.
I turn myself in the furs to face him, my legs folded beneath me, and I right my shift.
“You may call me Vonetta; that is perhaps a better place to start.” His grin widens with mirth.
“Well met, Vonetta. What a strange way to meet someone, in bed, after you’ve made sacred vows and slept together.”
Gods alive. My face feels like it's on fire.
When I shift my eyes, I see that Wren is awake and looking between Chiron and me. His expression is disoriented. There’s a hint of surprise there, like he’s only just realized he’s not where he fell asleep, but he is.
We are all exactly where we were always going to be. I smile tentatively at him. He blinks himself awake and raises his hand in a small wave. His voice is gravelly with sleep, but the words that come out are formal and awkward:
“Hello, Vonetta. Chiron. I’m Wren. Wren Ashyr.”
My smile now is not just polite, it's warm. I am not the only person here feeling awkward or unmoored, and that is a comfort, truthfully.
“Hello, Wren. Chiron.” We sit in silence for a moment, taking each other in for the first time in the light of day.
When the messenger for the Lady arrives, we are all sitting up, hair still disheveled but clothes righted and eyes cleared of sleep. We are called to the Lady’s home to break our fast with her.
I find a comb and boar brush on a small stool by the spring, along with a fresh gown.
It is grey and of a sturdy construction.
There are clean tunics and breeches for Chiron and Wren.
After I've dressed, I give the comb to Chiron and use the brush to smooth my hair and plait it behind me. I show them the pool and let them know they can use the water to clean up. I give them fresh garments to wear before we make our way to the Lady’s dwelling.
They are quiet as they dress, taking their own moments in the deeper cavern to freshen themselves from the revels of the night.
Our walk to the Lady is quiet, but not silent.
Sisters are about their daily work, and their faces are a mixture of tiredness from the revel and excitement at seeing the Trinity in the light of day.
Wren asks some polite questions about the layout of the Isle, and I answer them with surety.
Chiron is quiet but observant. It occurs to me that he’s never been here before, while I have never been away.
We arrive at the Lady’s in good time, and when she answers the door, her smile is nothing but welcoming. Vestera places her hand on my cheek, and I smile at her as if to say I am okay. All is well. She nods her approval as she turns to my bonded.
“Chosen, welcome. Please sit. My sisters have prepared a meal for us here. Break your fast with me this morning, and we can speak of the day ahead.” I choose a light fare from the bowls, soft fruit, and bread.
Wren’s plating looks much the same as mine.
Chiron chooses some of everything, and this makes sense to me as he converses genially with the Lady, answering questions about his parents and his journey to the Isles.
He has an ease in conversation that I have never felt myself.
“I traveled three days and nights to get here, the most direct crossing from Ilyora.” He says, taking a bite of the thick, crusty bread. Wren remains quiet, but he appears reverent of the Lady and listens in earnest.
The meal is light but nourishing, and I feel better grounded because of it. With the Rite behind us now, my thoughts are clear to think of our journey. Nervous anticipation swirls the food in my stomach.
When next the Lady speaks, she’s shifted from convivial to serious, and the energy in the room flexes with her change.
“You leave today for Elemyr; your trials await you. Not to test your worth—you are chosen. The coming days will test your bond. What grows between you is entirely your choice. The realms will ask something of you all. What? I cannot say.”
When the meal is finished, sisters arrive to take the plates of food away.
Others bring leather packs. Mine is familiar and worn, my own, and I appreciate the sight of it.
Inside, I find a fresh aubergine gown, dark riding breeches, and a cream tunic.
There is a lined water skin and rations, dried meats and fruits from the Isle, enough for many days.
I see my bone hairpin and comb tucked deep into the bag as well.
My bow and quiver are set by the door. Truthfully, I haven’t seen them in many days, since before that first day at the mirror pool. But I’m comforted by their presence here now. Our travel will be long, and we’ll have to hunt for our meals when we are between towns and villages.
Chiron and Wren take stock of their packs as well.
A long sword is placed on the table. I can only assume it belongs to Chiron and was in the care of my sisters last night.
Wren’s pack has a rolled map inside, light linen parchment, and is functional, not ornate.
A small sickle wrapped in a leather scrap, and some light camping supplies, too.
Chiron is given a thin but densely woven quilt for sleeping, along with whatever he traveled with in coming here.
The Lady brings me a fine cloak, one that I recognize.It is a grayish purple and tightly woven, warm but not heavy.
“Vestera, Lady. This is yours. I cannot take it.” I say breathlessly. Her smile is knowing, maternal, and sure.
“You will, child. It is both a gift and a comfort. I pray that you take this piece of the Isle with you to your new home.”
My eyes sting as the truth of her words sink into me. I nod graciously, hoping that no one sees this crack in my composure as I don the Lady’s cloak and fasten it at my clavicle. Its wide hood fans out behind me, and I pull my braid free of the fabric.
The Lady travels with us to the eastern shore. She whispers quiet reassurances to me as we walk, hand in hand.
“I never dreamed of leaving here, Lady,” I say to her. Her hand fastens tighter around my own.
“Netta, sometimes we do not dream our destinies. We must live them to know they were what we needed.” She looks to each of my bonded ahead of us.
They speak in quiet tones, taking in the sights of the land before we leave.
It could have been nice to linger here, to get to know each other in this sacred space, I think.
The Lady’s words break my wandering thoughts.
“The Isle will remain your home. But you’re bonded, they too can be that for you. If you choose.”
When we reach the sands, a small flat craft awaits us.
A long pole is propped against it, and I know this vessel is for us.
The waters between the Isle and Elemyr are shallow, and the journey isn’t long.
One can punt across the clear water smoothly.
I press my head to the Lady’s, one last time.
To bolster me, to quiet my quaking spirit…
to say goodbye to the only mother whose face I can imagine.
“Naedra keep you, my child.” Her voice is warm as she bids us farewell.
My lip quivers, but I lift my chin. Chiron boards first and reaches his hand out to steady both Wren and me on the small boat. We are bound for the Nanburrow Forest, the shortest crossing between the Isle and Elemyr.
I stand at the prow, and when I look back, the hooded figure of the Lady on the misty shore cracks my resolve. One silent tear falls as my Isle shrinks behind me.