21. Hauyne
Progress back to Enduvida is slow. With such a large party, what would’ve taken us one or two turns of the sun has easily turned into three or four.
While no one would fault the women who have come with us, it is a burden we are all happy to bear. There is a desperation that comes from having Estela back with me and not having more than a few moments alone. Adding in thirty-three women has made privacy a long-lost luxury.
All the tents that were brought have been sacrificed to the humans.
Niht has taken to going with the elves daily to hunt in order to supplement the stolen slave supplies. It takes a lot to feed around sixty people, especially when most are not yet sufficiently healed to assist with food preparations.
It’s quiet most days, much quieter than I would’ve expected. Everyone is tired and cold, and I can see many are drenched in pain, both emotional and physical. Estela spends every stopping point healing those she can. Several have infections, four are pregnant, and, just like the slaves from before, they are all malnourished.
She worries about herbs and fevers, and I worry about the cold. This has raised tensions in the camp and…
Estela.
She is returning to Rahda after hours of bandaging wounds.
Every thought always comes back to her.
She told me Mikal was gone when she went to save him, and now my beautiful mate looks… different. Not only has the hollowness returned to her face, but the look in her eye rips up my soul. I know the look of torture. I know fear.
In many ways, I worry that we are in a worse place than where we started.
I finish helping Ra”Salore set up the tents for the women to huddle inside.
One of the women approaches and gives us a long look. Her long dark hair is drawn over the side of her shoulder, and Ra”Salore eyes the unbound locks like a starved man seeing meat.
“You are very warm, as a people,” she says. “It would be nice if you would sleep inside the tents to raise the body temperature.”
Ra”Salore shakes his head. “We are too large.”
“I wouldn’t mind lying on top of you to help save space.” The woman grins.
The silent stone bender sputters. “I?—”
Niht comes over, a squirrel on his arm.
“Melisa, look!” He holds out the squirrel. “You said you liked these fluffy tail devils. Though, if you ask me, they are more rat than pet.”
The woman named Melisa laughs and holds out her arm. The pet scampers up and wraps around her neck.
I turn away from the chatter and find that Estela is gone. She’s likely back with the women.
I frown. We need a quiet, warm place to speak.
A part of me is frightened to peel away the layers of her mind and find out whatever is lurking beneath. Not because I am afraid to take on her pain, but because I worry about what it means to confront such emotions when this journey has brought out a great deal of brokenness in my own consciousness.
My one hope is that the two of us may carry each other’s pain together.
I wander away from the tents. When I find what I’m looking for, a cave with a warm, slightly sulphuric smell leaking out of it, my heartbeat increases.
As I push into the entrance, I find it mostly clean. It takes little time to use a discarded branch to sweep out any mess and tidy everything up. I lay down the sleeping roll I brought and take a deep breath.
Blood has been pounding through my veins, and there is an urge to claim and comfort, one that strains against my pants with surprising insistence. But what the cock wants and what the mind needs can sometimes be two different things.
As I head out of the cave and trek back to the camp, I see her from several dozen paces away. Estela is indeed checking a woman’s arm, as is Ulla.
The women watch her with that same unsettling silence as she bandages wounds and Ulla sings them closed. She must sense my coming because she turns and smiles at me with the same shy, weary sadness that has been pasted on her face since we first saw each other.
A lump rises in my throat.
“Amor?1,” I say in the human tongue. “I need you to help me with something.”
Estela’s finely arched brows draw together, and a few of the others exchange knowing looks behind her back.
I ignore them.
They are allowed to think whatever they will about me, what is most important to me is a moment alone.
“Here,” she says, handing a few things off to one of the women with dark hair who they call Melisa. I’m surprised she got away from Niht and Ra”Salore so quickly.
Melisa smirks at me as I hold out an arm and wrap it around my mate.
My hand grazes her cloak and cold flesh. The Fuegorra keeps her warm and safe from frostbite, but the itchy white fabric underneath is… bothersome.
“You should change,” I say conversationally.
She shakes her head. “Between you and the cloak, I am warm enough. Any spare clothing needs to be used for them and their wounds.”
I purse my lips, but I don’t say anything more. We have had this conversation more than once, and it has never ended positively.
We make it a few more paces toward the cave when she gives me a sidelong gaze.
“What did you need help with again?”
I take a deep breath and run a hand over her now-braided hair. I can’t stop touching her, reminding myself that she is real and we are going home. Everything is not fixed, but it’s… gentler now that she is near.
“I didn’t say.”
She stops at the entrance, her face draining of color.
“Teo, I have to—they need me—” She’s breathless, but we’re almost there.
I can’t let her run off again. Not yet.
“They will still be there in an hour or two,” I say, finally reaching the cave and pulling her inside.
She takes a deep breath and leans into my arm.
I immediately feel her discomfort. It’s highlighted in every part of her face and punctuated with the sad song that plays in the air.
I prod her mind and find it carefully closed. Doubt enters my heart.
“Do you still want to leave?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
After a few moments, I guide her over to the bedroll on the ground and sit down across from her. The silence between us is almost as thick as mud, only eased by the low mating song flowing from our Fuegorras. I look at how she nervously glances at the warm spring, confused.
“Are you… all right?” I ask after a few moments.
She looks at me with large eyes, and I realize she’s trying not to cry. “I am fine. I just want to help those who are coming with us.”
She feels so far away from me, but I resist pulling her in. We’ve done this many times already; I know she will bury her face in my chest, but her thoughts remain far. She must say the words.
“What happened?” I ask gently.
Her lips begin to tighten as if trying to hide a quiver.
“I—” She takes a deep breath. “They tortured me.”
I watch the column of her throat contract, and I hear the roar of blood rushing in my ears. Then, a tear falls down her cheek.
“They didn’t whip me, and Rholker never raped me. I told him that the Fuegorra would kill him if he tried, and it burned him every time he touched me.”
Only a fool would know such abuse is the only way for a man to hurt a woman.
“But?”
“But he brought in these women. The Six. They are human, and they have magic. I never thought I’d see something like that.” Each word is slightly staccatoed and she closes off her emotions.
I don’t push. I just listen.
I do, however, wonder why her Fuegorra was burning people. It is a magic I do not know.
“They ruined some of my memories to turn me against you. They shattered them like glass on a jagged rock. Rholker wanted me to be his, so they tried to erase you.” A flood of tears finally spills down. “But they didn’t, they couldn’t. I tried to be strong. Oh gods. Teo, I am so sorry. For everything I’ve ever done—I was pathetic and scared. I’ll never be that person again. Please. Please forgive me,” she sobs, reaching forward to take my hands.
My heart cracks apart.
“Estela, my star. Stop. I forgave you long ago.” I pull her into my lap. “You helped save all those women. I saw you kill the giant. You are strong.”
She melts into me, but I catch her chin before she can hide again and tilt it up. Her face is puffy, red, wet, and perfect. She nearly knocks me over when she is the one to kiss me.
It’s a ferocious action, one borne from our weeks apart.
It doesn’t stop with the pressing of our lips together. Eventually, she grazes the seam of my mouth with her tongue. I can’t help but groan. It’s been too long since I tasted her. If this would bring her pleasure, then I would give her anything. Anything to take away the pain and make her smile once more.
I know enough for now.
It’s not until her hand slips under my shirt that I pause and pull back.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask.
She nods.
“Please. I need a new memory of you.”
I swallow. “Tell me if it becomes too much at any point.”
She nods, her chest rising and falling.
It’s only then that I reach forward toward her breast band filled with the Enduar diamonds. One quick tug, and it’s torn away from her flesh. There’s a little build-up of dirt, and whatever cosmetics they put on her have smudged and smeared, but the sight of her breasts with small, lovely rosebud nipples is one I would savor for the rest of my life.
She sucks in a sharp breath at being exposed to the air, so I bring my mouth to each peak, working to warm them so that she doesn’t feel the cold. The song crescendos into the room as her pulse quickens at my nearness. There’s no shocked pause, only a pleased groan when I relish as much attention upon her as possible.
I put my hand on the strange skirt and tear it off too.
“I’m going to rip out Rholker’s eyes the next time I see him for looking upon you like this,” I growl.
Her scent fills the air, and it turns on something that has long since been dormant.
My blood pumps harder, and my mouth waters. I lean her back, taking in those large, sad brown eyes.
“You want a new memory? I’ll give you one you’ve never had,” I say, my voice low.
Then I lay her back and lower myself between her legs.
“Teo, oh gods, wait,” she says.
I pause, looking back up at her.
“We’ve been traveling.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve only had time to clean with a washcloth and herbs,” she says.
“Perfect. Can I continue?”
Another second passes while I look at her large eyes. “You don’t have to do this. What if… what if you don’t like it.”
I stroke her thigh. “Estela, this is instinct. I will like it.”
“But I—all right.”
“Thank you.” I growl and then tear the remains of her ridiculous costume apart with my teeth. She yelps and then gasps when my tongue makes contact with her skin.
She’s sweet, and wet, and I languish both her cries and the way she squirms and grips my hair. I work slowly, memorizing the way her belly muscles tighten and twitch. Her need is directly tied to my own, and when her release comes, my senses are overwhelmed completely.
“My star,” I growl, coming up for air while she pants. “You are the most perfect creature who ever has and ever will walk the face of the earth.”
Her eyes are glassy and contented, and the worry lines that have marred her skin are now smoothed over. The pain forgotten, if just for a moment.
But I’m not done. I want to seal this fire between us, to plunge into her softness and feel her next release shoot me into the heavens. It isn’t until she nods that I realize I accidentally sent that thought directly to her mind.
Her expression softens impossibly further, and it’s as if a part of her is mended at seeing what I saw when we came together for the first time.
My clothes are discarded in a matter of moments, and she wraps her legs around me as I lift her up to take her to the water and wash away any trace of Zlosa.
After two steps, she freezes and breaks our kiss. She looks down at the water and holds her breath.
I feel the panic rising up inside of her, and it almost shocks me. It’s equal parts exhilarating and heartbreaking to be so close to her emotions once more.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as she stands there, frozen in terror.
Then she starts to shake.
“They… they used water to hurt me. It felt like I was drowning every day.” Her breath grows increasingly shallow, and the moment retreats as the passion is doused.
“Sh, sh,” I coax, cradling my naked mate to my chest. “All is well. We don’t need to go near the water. Not now.”
Her silent trembling continues for a few more moments as I try to relax her with the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest.
“Would you like to go back to camp?” I ask.
She pulls back.
“But you—” she reaches down to grasp my cock, but I bat her hand away.
“Later, amor?2.”
“Later,” she whispers the word as if it were the sweetest promise I’d ever made.
I nod my head again, and then set her down. I put on my pants and boots, but then dress her with the rest of my gear. When she protests, I silence her with a finger pressed to her lips.
“No. We will leave this here. You should never wear anything like that again. That’s another promise.”
She closes her eyes as if she wants to protest but instead thinks better.
“I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise, thank you, and I’m so?—”
“Stop. I’ve already told you to stop apologizing for everything. I am here now, and I forgive you for everything you can think of.”
She doesn’t speak. Her wide eyes look at me like I am something impossible, and I see what my heart has known from the moment the song started in my chest.
We belong to each other.
I dwell on every inch of her face, hollow as it now seems. I wish to know everything about her, from what brings her joy, what startles her laughter, to what soothes her wounds.
These were questions held back from us. Our pain used to be our points of connection, but now I see such a vast sea of possibilities in the distance.
I see her belly swollen with my child, our tending to her gardens, cooking in the kitchens. I hear her voice scolding soldiers and blessing marriages. She holds my head in her lap, stroking my skin and singing her tunes. There is peace.
Goodness.
She is brilliant, shining, life incarnate. A life given back to me and made whole.
“My sweet wife, like the little minx you are, you have snuck in and stolen all my sadness. Please, never give it back.” I reach out, brushing a curl behind her ear, and then we head out of the cave.
The memory of this place will be my first gift.
I shall spend every waking second thinking of more.