Epilogue
TIA
A s we head into the city, triumphant, the door to the women’s quarters is the first thing to go.
Just seeing it with the bar across the door makes me angry. No one should be locked in. If they choose to keep themselves separate, that’s one thing. Locking them away like they’re prisoners? That’s wrong. I’m the loudest to cheer as Rem’eb smashes the door open with the heavy hammer he takes from a work station nearby.
Then, the entrance to the other side of the wall is open, and a woman steps forward. She looks a lot like Noj’me, her build delicate. She blinks at us, her gaze lingering on me, and then on Rem’eb. Another moves forward behind her, and it’s clear they don’t understand what’s going on. Neither one approaches the now-open doorway.
A choked sob echoes in the cavern, and a third woman races past the other two. She barrels her way through the gathered group, looking for someone. When she finds him, she squeals and dives into the arms of a man waiting nearby. He picks her up and races away with her, as if he thinks someone’s going to steal his mate back from him, and it just reinforces the feeling that this is right.
It doesn’t matter that Rem’eb’s father separated everyone with the best intentions. It was still misguided.
After that, Rem’eb explains to the women that they are free to move about as they please—that they could remain behind the wall if they were comfortable, or they could join their fathers, brothers, or mates. That no one would be forced to hide away again. Several of the women surge into the city, reuniting with family, and the cavern fills with joyful cries.
Some of the women and young girls choose to stay behind the wall, uneasy. That’s fine. I just want it to be their choice. I touch my stomach as I watch the joyful reunions, thinking. I want our baby to have choices. If they want to live down here in the village under the mountains, that’s fine. If our kid wants to become the Chief’s Fist just like their father, that’s fine, too. If they want to go visit everyone on the beach, they’re welcome to. I just want my child to feel as if they’re loved and accepted and wanted wherever they go in life. No one should be made to feel like an outcast, or unwanted, even amongst their own people.
After the doors that blockaded the women behind the wall are smashed, Rem’eb sweeps on to his father’s home. To my surprise, the chief’s house is a mini-palace, with multiple rooms and its own private gardens. It’s a far nicer home than anything on Icehome beach, or that I’ve seen on this planet at all. No wonder Rem’eb wanted to return, if this is the sort of living he’s used to. It’s not nearly as primitive as life on the beach, and the garden is lovely and artistic. I’m starting to look forward to what kind of house we’ll have here, too.
Cas’zor the Loyal meets us, relief on his face. “You have returned. I am so glad. Welcome back, Chief’s Fist.”
The two men grip each other’s forearms in greeting, and then Rem’eb looks around. “I am here to set things right, my friend. Where is Kin’far the Exile?”
“He ran the moment he heard you returned,” Cas’zor explains. “He is too cowardly to confront you. He knows no one is on his side. I suspect he will be hiding out in the tunnels and hoping we forget him.”
“I will not forget. We shall send someone after him, because he cannot do as he pleases. He is exiled for a reason.” Rem’eb glances around the cavern, watching as another woman embraces a mate, and then a young male that must be her son. He turns back to Cas’zor. “And what of my father?”
He indicates a door, and then Rem’eb kisses my forehead. “I must go inside alone, my mate.”
“It’s fine.” I’m not surprised. Whatever needs saying is probably best said between father and son without a stranger hovering over them. “I’ll help get the others settled. Are you sure it’s all right if we stay here in your father’s home?”
“I have invited you,” he reassures me, lifting my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles. “All of you. I think once my father adjusts to the idea, he will like having a great many people around. And until my people are used to strange faces amongst us, it is safer for all if you are where Cas’zor and myself can watch over you closely.”
“Okay then. I love you.” I reluctantly let go of him and smile at Cas’zor as Rem’eb strides away to his father’s quarters.
“Come,” Cas’zor says, beckoning us inside. “There are many empty rooms. Plenty of space for all.”
With Cas’zor and Noj’me’s help, we get everyone settled in the chief’s house. He’s right that there’s enough room for everyone – off of the inner garden full of colorful mushrooms and strange sculptures and the burbling fountain in the center, there’s a half-dozen large rooms, most of them heavy with dust and long unused. Lauren and K’thar and their son take the largest one, and I’m happy to see poor little Kki sitting atop K’thar’s head and preening. Underground, there’s no need for him to huddle for warmth.
If nothing else, Kki is going to love it here.
“Devi is going to be so sad she’s missing this,” comments Vivi, who takes her pack from her mate Skarr and enters their new room. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find her on our doorstep by the time the week is out.”
“There is room for more if they arrive,” Cas’zor says cheerfully. “Are you all hungry? I can make soup and serve some sliced mushroom. And there is plenty of fruited water.”
It’s been such a busy time that I’ve completely forgotten about the supplies we’ve brought. “Oh! Speaking of food—we’re going to have a feast tomorrow. We’ve brought food from above—fresh meat and roots and fish from the sea. We thought it might be a good way to introduce ourselves to everyone. And it’ll give the village a chance to gather and hear more about Rem’eb’s plans for change.” I bite my lip, glancing back at the rooms at the far end of the large house, where Rem’eb is no doubt talking with his father. “Do you think the chief will disapprove?”
Cas’zor just smiles. “I think he will love that his son is becoming the leader he has always wanted him to be.”
After everyone is settled, I’m led to a smaller room off to the side. It’s Rem’eb’s childhood bedroom, complete with a narrow pallet for sleeping, a few decorative pillows tossed upon it, and an old cloth doll that looks like a mushroom with a froglike face atop the cap. I clutch it to my chest and stare up at the lattice ceiling that isn’t truly a ceiling, and wonder at how tomorrow is going to go.
I wonder about the feast. How Lauren and her mate, and Skarr and his mate, will get along with everyone – and them with us. I wonder about the baby we’ve made. Mostly I just wonder if Rem’eb is all right, because I know he worries about his father.
I drift off to sleep, clutching the doll. Some time later, Rem’eb enters the room, weariness evident in his large form. He strips off his kilt and sandals—clothing he switched to the moment we entered the warmth of the fruit cave—and then joins me in the bed. He pulls me close, resting his cheek on my breasts, and I nudge his large, arching horns out of the way so he maneuvers his head and they don’t press against my face.
“How did it go?” I ask, brushing his hair back from his brow. “How’s your father?”
He sighs heavily. “Deep in his sadness. He has not moved from his bed since I left. My betrayal made him despair, and when he saw me, he wept. He did not even care that I told him I was changing things. He was just so relieved I had returned.” His arms tighten around me. “I did not realize how much I would hurt him.”
“You had to do what you thought was right,” I reassure him, stroking his brow. “Would you have changed your mind?”
Rem’eb thinks for a moment. “No. It was the right thing to do. He had no right to keep you. No right to lock the females away, either.”
“Then don’t dwell on it.” I trace his brows lovingly. “All you can do is be there for him now. Your people need a leader, and if he’s not going to be chief, it’s up to you to take the reins.”
“What are reins?”
I bite back a chuckle. “Let me rephrase. If he’s not going to be chief, you need to be chief.”
Rem’eb grunts. “He said the same thing. He wants me to take over.” He strokes his hand down my side. “And he is excited for our child. Will you meet with him?”
“Tomorrow.” I run my thumb over his lips, my arousal sparking. “There’s a lot to be done tomorrow. I want to meet with the weavers and give the half-completed project back. I want to learn from one of them if they’ll have me. I want to talk to the women and reassure them about the changes—which means I have to hunt down Noj’me and get her to interpret, unless you want to do it for me.”
“I will happily be at your side.”
“And then we’ll have to make sure Lauren, Vivi, and the others are all settled and see how they feel. And, oh gosh, I’ve forgotten entirely about the feast.” I give a little groan. “Did I mention we’ll be busy?”
“Once or twice,” Rem’eb teases. “And you will need to learn more of our words.”
“I will,” I agree. I can talk to Noj’me about how much—or how little—of the ancestors’ language their “oracle” has. I’m guessing I’m going to have to learn to speak their language so I can talk to them. I can understand them when they speak but I’d like for them to be able to understand me. It’s fine—I rather like a challenge.
Rem’eb sits up, gazing down at me. His expression is worried. “If I am taking over chief’s duties, there will be a great deal that needs attending to. The rebels have nothing to rebel against any longer, but I am certain they will need soothing. There is Kin’far and making certain he remains in exile. There is establishing trade with your people. We must ensure the women feel safe and as if they have a choice as to where they dwell. We will have to watch carefully for sickness, too. So much is going to be changing that we must be firm and resolved in our decisions. And…I worry that this is not what you envisioned when you agreed to come with me. It will be a great deal of work.”
That’s sweet that he’s worried about me. “I don’t mind work. I’m excited about the changes we’ll make together. Just promise you’ll always hear me if I have opinions about something and we disagree.”
“I am excited to hear all your opinions,” he tells me earnestly.
“You say that now,” I chuckle. “Wait until the pregnancy hormones kick in and I start making insane demands of what I want to eat.”
His eyes flare with excitement, his gaze skimming to my belly. “I look forward to your insane demands, because it will mean our child is growing.”
“You’re too good,” I tease him, stroking my fingers down his neck and to his shoulder and twining in the pelt there. “Are you happy to be back?”
“I am.” He leans down and kisses me, settling his bigger body over mine. The affection in his gaze turns to hunger, and he pushes my short skirt up. “My beautiful stranger. You are more than I ever dreamed of when I hoped for a mate.”
“Am I still a stranger, then?” I slide one leg up, hooking it around his hip. The thin blanket over me gets pushed to the side, and then we’re skin-to-skin on arms, legs, and stomach. I caress my mate, appreciating his large form and the strength in his body.
“No. You are the mate that handles the Fist.”
Oh god. I will never live that down. “Can we go with something else? That sounds filthy.”
Rem’eb looks down at me in surprise. “It does?”
I make a hand motion of jerking off.
“Aaaaah.” He gives a bark of a laugh. “While I like your hands teasing my frill, I like your cunt more.” Rem’eb slides down over me, nibbling his way over my cleavage and then continuing farther down, his fingers dancing over my stomach. “So if I should not call you my stranger, what should I call you? Tia the Perfect? Tia the Clever? Tia the Tasty?”
“Maybe you just call me yours?”
Rem’eb flips my skirt up. “I can do that.”