Chapter 7 Kiera
Kiera
We rounded another bend, and a large meadow came into view. Dense forest formed a protective ring around it, and the mountains rose much closer, their peaks blocking out part of the starry sky.
In the meadow, dozens of domed lodges and tents glowed by the light of a dozen fires. Shadowy figures dipped in and around the little village. Dogs barked and horses grazed in a wooden pen. The sweet smell of wood smoke and roasting meat made my mouth water.
The river met the meadow on a gently sloping beach where other boats rested. As soon as our boat slid to a stop on the gritty sand, a shout went up within the village.
Once more, it was mayhem as dozens of Dags rushed out to greet our party. I jumped from the boat and skirted the tangle of hugs and conversation.
I spotted Nikella doing the same from her boat, but so did a huge Dag who broke off from the chaos and rushed toward her.
I tensed, taking a step in their direction. But then my mouth dropped open as the man swept her into a bone-crushing hug that knocked her hood from her head. She seemed to have expected it, though, because she angled her staff away from him. She gave him a one-armed embrace, then shoved him off.
“Enough, Jek,” she grumbled, pulling her long hood back up.
The handsome older Dag bowed, his silver grin matching his long hair and beard. “Of course, my beautiful Teacher. I just wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”
“And now you have.” Nikella straightened and strode to the village, leaving Jek to stare at her with what I could only describe as a love-struck expression.
I swallowed the incredulous laugh that rose in my throat.
Nikella seemed at ease no matter the task at hand—building bombs in a secret room of the Temple, keeping me prisoner, killing enemies with her spear, healing wounds on a ship. Yet this was the first time I’d ever seen the enigmatic Teacher uncomfortable.
I hurried after her, tucking that bit of information away even though I had no idea who to ask about it.
Nikella wove through the village until she came to a huge, central bonfire. She moved to the other side of it and sat next to Aiden, who reclined on a fur blanket, talking to a gaggle of wild children. A few of the older children beamed at Nikella and surrounded her as well.
Discomfort fishtailed in my chest. I fruitlessly rubbed at it.
They had people here who knew them and—by the looks of it—loved them. They belonged.
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be leaving soon, anyway. These aren’t your people. This isn’t your family. Remember who’s waiting for you.
I turned to leave, but immediately ran into Frieda, who gave me a gentle shove toward an unoccupied blanket.
“Stay, child. You must eat, and we must remember.”
I dutifully sat and was soon pinned in by Maz and Yarina, who dropped to either side of me.
We passed wooden plates of juicy meat and mugs of something that smelled like mead around the fire. I didn’t know what kind of meat it was, and I didn’t care. I tore into it like I was starving.
For the first time, the Dags were relatively quiet as they also dug into the hot meal.
But soon enough, friends and family sought out Maz and Yarina, or called to them across the fire, congratulating Yarina on her war wound and offering a myriad of interesting ways to dismember Korvin for Maz. This considerably cheered up Maz. As did his constantly refilled mug.
A young boy offered to refill mine as well. I hesitated.
Yarina nudged me. “Too good for our mead, princess?”
I glared at her and held out my mug. The boy filled it with a grin and moved on.
“When in Dagriel, I suppose . . .” I muttered to myself and gulped half of it.
“That’s the spirit!” Maz thumped me on the back, causing me to splutter. “It’s no Sunshine, but don’t tell Davka that.”
Davka cuffed him on the back of his head.
“Did you make it?” I asked her. “It’s lovely.” A small burp escaped me, which seemed to please her. She dipped her head at me.
Drums started appearing around the fire, and suddenly I was grateful for the extra mead. If only I had some hot, buttered biscuits to go with it.
My gaze couldn’t help wandering over to Aiden. The flames danced between us, but nothing could hide those green eyes when they met mine.
I felt warm inside and out. My ever-racing mind had slowed and centered.
Gods, he’s beautiful.
His black eyebrows drew down as if wary of my attention.
But then a slow drumbeat echoed around the camp, tearing my gaze away.
Frieda rose from her fur-covered chair. She thumped her staff, and an immediate hush settled over the crowd. Even the dogs stopped barking and lay down.
“Tonight, we thank the Four for bringing our warriors home.”
Cheers and whistles answered her. Maz lowered his head, staring into his mug. I tentatively squeezed his arm. His hand shot out and kept mine there. I squeezed harder, the memory of clutching his bloody, unconscious body in the Wolves’ wagon still too vivid.
I slugged back the rest of my mead. Gods damn it, that was good.
Frieda thumped her staff again. “We also gather to remember those we lost. We may not have bodies to burn”—sad murmurs rippled around the fire—“but we have their names, their memories. We have the love we bore for them, and we will carry that in our hearts until we meet them across the Abyss.”
Resounding agreement thundered. I found myself nodding along.
“Zolta, brother of Halka. Bronwyn, daughter of Dietra and Gamli . . .”
The drums continued their sorrowful beat as Frieda listed off the dead. Soft cries fell like rain, making me feel cold again.
What had become of their bodies in the Den? Perhaps Renwell had burned them where they lay. Or they’d been gifted . . .
Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard.
Don’t think about him. Don’t think like that. The gods will find their souls. They will. Their loved ones will see them again.
A woman’s singing lifted my blurry gaze. A short, round woman had replaced Frieda. She was wrapped in fur and a dark red skirt. Her graying braids coiled around her head like thick weaves of yarn. And her voice . . . was beautiful.
“Everything given
Must be returned
Every story
Must be earned.
Take their ash
and take their bones
take their souls
to your thrones.
See our tears
and hear our cries
when you take their souls
beyond the skies.
Remember our love
remember their fate
remember we lose
what we choose to hate.
We sew our souls together
And our stories to skin
To find each other
Again and again.
We remember . . .
We remember . . .”
Many voices joined hers in the last lines, tears glistening on cheeks, including mine. Several men and women clutched colorful, patched scarves to their chests, eyes closed.
Maz let go of my hand to stroke the tree tattoo on his arm. Across the fire, Aiden drained his mug.
“Are all Dag funerals like this?” I whispered to Maz.
He nodded. “That’s why we fight so hard in life. So that when we mourn, we mourn only what we lost, not what we refused to give.”
“No regrets,” I murmured, glancing once more at Aiden.
He was already staring at me. His eyes burned and warmed at once. The intensity made me ache all over. For what, I didn’t know.
His black hair was wild, as if he’d been running his hands through it. Or perhaps it was from his furious ride earlier.
I licked my lips, tasting mead and salt.
His jaw tightened, and his hand that had been dangling over his knee flexed and clenched. He looked angry now.
He beckoned the boy with the pitcher, who filled his mug again. As he drank, I tore my gaze away from his pulsing throat.
The man who had hugged Nikella—Jek—stood and told a story about one of the deceased. His deep, powerful voice had a very soothing effect, and I couldn’t help smiling at the memories he shared.
After him, it was another storyteller, then another. I lost count. Just as I lost count of how many times that boy filled my mug. I felt warm and soft and good. Like the mead, the food, and the stories had created a thick blanket around my heart, keeping away the cold, dark feelings.
Soon, a cry rose, “Another song! Another song!”
I cheered, looking around for the next performer, when Aiden rose to his feet with a slight sway. The cheers grew louder, people stamping their feet and clapping.
“Aiden! Yes, Aiden! Sing! Sing!”
I hiccuped and shouted along with them. When in Dagriel, right?
Aiden stood in front of everyone, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. My heart beat faster. I’d only heard him sing once, through a door, at a horrible moment, and it’d made me sob. What would he do to me this time?
He opened his mouth, and instead of a sad song, he sang a bawdy drinking song. The crowd roared with approval and joined in. Maz stumbled to his feet and staggered up to Aiden. They slung arms around each other and swayed, singing.
I gaped.
Yarina leaned against me, her eyes wide as well. “Is Aiden drunk?” she asked in a slurred whisper.
“I think he is,” I said in awe.
“He never gets drunk. Fucking Four, I’m going to enjoy this.”
She clambered to her feet and joined her brother and Aiden, who kept singing. Even drunk and singing about a man who got drunk, couldn’t find his own tent, then made love to an innkeeper, his voice plucked at my heart.
All around me, people were getting to their feet to dance and sing along. The drumbeat picked up, and the dogs started howling in harmony. Laughter bubbled out of me. Gods, when was the last time I’d laughed?
Aiden’s gaze shot toward me as if he’d heard it, and his face lit up with a smile.
I had to catch my breath. My chest felt too tight.
Maz roared my name and beckoned me over. I went without hesitation, letting him tuck me under his sweaty arm. We swayed in a big group. I caught on to the chorus and belted it out with the rest of them.
My singing was awful, but nobody seemed to care as the mead continued to flow and the world grew ever brighter.
One song led to another. The swaying turned to dancing, where I found myself twirled and passed along between strangers who laughed and showed me the steps.
But then the crowd began to disperse. Couples snuck off to tents. Others cuddled and kissed in front of the fire. Some fell asleep right where they stopped dancing.
Nikella had long since disappeared. So had Jek. Together?
Aiden had vanished. Sigrid and Davka were also gone. A tall woman towed a flushed Maz into a lodge. Yarina was in the lap of a handsome Dag man, her lips fused to his. The sight awoke a strange fire in my belly.
Was Aiden also enjoying eager company somewhere in the village?
Suddenly, I needed coolness and air.
I lurched away from the fires. Away from the tents. One of which I hoped held a bed for me.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped further into the meadow. The cold night air had a bite to it I wasn’t used to. But it smelled of leaves and grass and . . . was that the pine Maz had mentioned? Gods, it was delicious. And so clean. I could cleanse my lungs with this mountain forest air.
The soft whicker of a horse drew my attention to the fenced-in part of the meadow.
A dozen horses flicked their tails and grazed in the darkness. A man leaned on the fence next to one of them. He was watching me.
My feet brought me to him of their own accord.
His words echoed in my mind from another night in the woods. “Lately, it seems I can’t run in any direction that does not lead me to you.”
I halted a few steps away. His expression gave away nothing. He merely waited.
“Aiden,” I murmured.
“Princess.”
We were back to that, were we? “Failed assassin,” I snarled.
His smile was sharp and nothing like before. He straightened away from the fence, stepping closer to me. “Successful spy.”
“Murderer.”
His arm shot out and wrapped around my waist, crushing me against his hard body. “Liar,” he growled.
My heart beat so hard it hurt. My fingertips dug into his chest, piercing his own rapid heartbeat. But I didn’t push him away. His nose brushed mine. Almost a nuzzle. But no. He wouldn’t.
“You lied to me too,” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine. “And you stole everything from me, little thief. It’s time I stole something back.”
His lips crashed into mine, obliterating my senses. My heart was falling, flying, trying to survive. He kissed me like he was angry. Or desperate. His mouth demanded payment.
With a tight groan, I kissed him back. My fingers seized his shirt like they might rip it to shreds. My body melted into his, surrendering. Just for a moment.
He made a noise deep in his chest. Approval. His warm lips coaxed mine apart, and he tasted my tongue. Breathed me in. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck and clenched.
I shivered, and he kissed me harder. I shoved my hands in his hair and met every stroke of his tongue, every press of his lips with my own hunger.
The heat was nearly unbearable. My clothes felt scratchy and heavy. All our anger and sadness. The hurt. It was burning. Burning away. I wanted it to burn away our clothes, too.
Aiden’s fingers wrapped around my braid and pulled my head back. I gasped as he trailed his lips and teeth down my throat.
“Fucking Four . . .” I hissed. “I can’t . . . I can’t even remember why I hate you.”
Aiden stiffened. Slowly, painfully, his mouth left my skin. The air between us suddenly felt much cooler. He drew back to stare into my eyes.
His cheeks were still flushed. His pulse still beat rapidly in his throat. But his eyes were hard once more.
“Perhaps because you don’t hate me at all, princess,” he said.
I scowled and shoved away from him. His hold on me broke easily.
“Just as you don’t know me at all,” I spat.
His jaw clenched, and he rubbed his thumb over his lips as if he could still feel me there. “I’m starting to think the problem is I know too much.”
What in the deep, dark, wandering hell did that mean?
My fists clenched. “Gods damn you, Aiden.”
He gave me a bitter smile. “I’m sure they already have.”
Snarling in frustration, I whirled around and stomped back to the camp. My head pounded, reminding me of all the mead I’d drunk.
We were both drunk. That was why we’d kissed. And my emotions had been running high because of the funeral. Otherwise, I never would have . . .
It didn’t matter, anyway. It would never happen again.