Chapter 10
SOMEPLACE PRIVATE
Tyralk’s home was up against the cavern wall, reached by a series of wide, uneven steps, and I winced at how difficult this would have been on that crutch.
When Tyralk’s mother emerged, tall and broad-shouldered, she embraced both of them and then pulled me to her.
I gasped before realizing this was a hug, my face pressed against her bare neck.
She squeezed me once, said something before releasing.
“She says thank you,” Khal said quietly. I bowed a little, unsure what to do, how to show deference. She had some kind of dark markings, like ink, on her neck, sleek hair swept up on her head.
She called something in their rolling tongue farther into the house, and a familiar voice called back to her.
Khal leaned towards me to murmur, “Zhana also married from outside our clan. She was initially a captive from the Sheerk.” Tyralk came limping out from a low cave mouth, a wide smile on his face.
“Khal! Vrathgar! Rowena!” he said, and I realized I'd never heard any of them beside Khal call me by name. “Drazha didn't devour you yet!”
His mother Zhana made a scolding sound.
“Not yet,” Vrathgar grunted. “Piotr intervened. But you should have heard Khal bickering with her. He was one strike from declaring a schism in the tribe, or challenging someone with a knife.”
Zhana clucked at us, beckoning us inside. The wide, round room circled a sunken fireplace, their low ceiling hung with drying things, garlands of sliced mushrooms, hanging bundles of herbs. When we were seated near the fire, she pushed warm mugs into our hands. The brew was earthy, and sweet.
“So what? She wants to kick you out? She can't do that,” Tyralk looked to Vrathgar, like he searched for reassurance that he was right.
“Of course she doesn't want to throw him out.” Vrathgar threw back the contents of the cup, wiped his mouth on his wrist. “It's Rowena she's after.”
“But Rowena is gethriss- she's bound to Khal.”
“Not if she can nullify their binding ceremony.” He looked grim.
“Can she do that?” I asked quietly.
Vrathgar’s mouth twisted. “Can she pull support for a stupid ruling when she comes back triumphant, and we return unpaid with an enemy bride? Why not—"
“No.” Khal’s jaw was set, his eyes hard. “No, no one can break someone else's oath. And if she tries to throw you out, it will not end in her favor.”
I waited for more explanation, but no one seemed inclined to elaborate, all of them nursing these wide mugs of drink. “Not in her favor. But not in yours either, right?” Fear climbed in my chest. “What happens if she decides to do it?”
He set the mug down. “She won't.”
“But if she does,” the words tumbled out in a squeak, and I closed my eyes, tried to calm my breathing. I didn't need to annoy him, didn't need to change their minds about protecting me.
Khal’s answer had no trace of annoyance in it.
“If she sends you out, I go with you. Probably, some join us. We do not go alone.” He picked up a wooden ladle from the pot hanging over the fire, filled both our cups again.
His expression was distant, set, and I realized that he'd always known this possibility, that he'd planned for this, likely from before we'd met at Belnor.
“We continue our work as mercenaries, we accomplish great deeds, and in time, the chieftains welcome us back.
They say we've redeemed ourselves. We return heroes. Everyone saves face.”
None of them were looking at me. Regardless of the dangers of the world outside, the life on the road, they would not be this tense if this was their only danger. Slowly, I whispered, “...this place is a secret, is it not?”
None of them looked up at me. Khal nodded.
“Then surely sending me on my way is not her only option. If she doesn't trust me to live here, why would she trust me to leave alive?” I would kill, to protect a place like this.
Tyralk whistled through his teeth. Vrathgar scowled at him.
“That won't happen,” Khal said.
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because I can challenge the verdict in combat.” He wasn't joking.
“That's a terrible idea.”
Khal shrugged. “I'm good at it.”
“But what if you get hurt?”
“Then they still have to commute the execution.”
I looked at the others.
Vrathgar still wasn't meeting my eyes. “He'll be fine. Khal’s tough.”
“He's already injured.”
Tyralk nodded. “Yeah, the handprints are pretty wild—"
“The what?”
Khal hissed at him. “Tyralk. Shut up.”
He did.
My heart felt like it was trying to leap out of my chest. “Please. Won't someone tell me what's going on?”
Khal looked up. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you. This…we prepared for this.”
“Yeah, you don't need to worry, Rowena,” Tyralk jumped in. “We all talked about this. No one is letting either of you die.”
“I’m sorry,” I got out, “but may I ask Khal something?”
It was Vrathgar who grunted, “Go ahead.”
I switched to the Old Tongue and looked into those liquid amber eyes, still shadowed from lack of rest when he was bringing me back from the conflagration at Rowton.
“Khal,” I said, and he froze. “Will the rest of our lives together be like this? Finding secrets the other has kept from us, bigger things that change our lives?”
Tyralk coughed, awkward. Khal blinked, took a breath. “No.” He stared at me. “No, this is the last time. I'm sorry. This…was not how I meant to start.”
“Okay,” my voice was small. “When…” I switched back to Common. “When do we find out what will happen to us?”
“This evening,” Vrathgar's mouth was a grim line.
There would be no time to gather my strength, then, to be ready to burn someone. Not that roasting one of his clansmen alive was likely to help either of us.
A warm hand rested, gently, on the top of mine, like a question. Khal looked at me. “It's not as bad as it sounds,” he said, his eyes apologetic, searching. “I am a chieftain's son. I was always going to have to fight for my place, someday. We just…decided we could risk moving that battle closer.”
“How can it be worth keeping me when it makes so many people angry?”
Vrathgar snorted, and then tried to cover it with a cough.
Khal shot him a look, but spoke to me. “I've always made people angry, Rowena. My existence has made people angry. If I spent my life trying to win over the people who hated me, I could never help.” His hand squeezed mine.
“People like Sephar will not convince me to give up one inch of what should be mine.” He looked so calm, so sure.
Tyralk leaned on his crutch to add, “Don't worry, Rowena. This was always his plan.”
Vrathgar muttered, without venom, “Yes, his stupid plan.”
“This is why you apologized, that first night,” I realized. “You said there was good reason to put me in danger.”
Khal winced, hesitated. “...yes.”
His hand was warm on mine, the fire warm in front of us, and I memorized the lines of his face. “Alright,” I said. “Then tell me how to help you.”
He fumbled, again, looked away.
“I want to live,” I pressed. “I don’t…I don’t want you to lose your home protecting me for…for however long we’ll be together. If there’s something I can do…” I shut my mouth. Because the things I could do, even the horrifying things, they wouldn’t work now, would they? Not empty. Not like this.
Khal moved his hand off of mine, clumsily clapped my shoulder, as if I was another friend. As if I was Tyralk. “I’ll handle this. I can handle this alone. This is my family, my struggle. Just…trust me.” He still didn’t look at my face.
And I couldn’t ask the boy with scars from carrying too much too far to let me carry some of it. Not when I had no idea how long I’d be something he had to carry. “Okay.” I looked away, too. “I'll trust you.”
A bit of sap crackled in the fire.
Vrathgar stood. “So you’re going to eat with her?”
Khal nodded. “Da will have her mollified somewhat by the evening.”
“She’s less likely to murder someone who ate by her hearth,” Tyralk piped up. Vrathgar silenced him with a glare. So we were reducing the likelihood of being murdered.
“No one is going to be murdered,” Khal said. He took another long draught from his mug.
Vrathgar grabbed something out of the rafters, some tiny bundle, and sat again. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. No offense, but you’re not the kind of backup I need.”
Vrathgar shrugged, looked at him appraisingly. “Is she still stronger than you?”
“Maybe,” Khal said. “But I’m faster.”
I almost choked. “Do you have to fight your mother?”
Tyralk snickered. Khal shook his head. “No. Vrathgar is just…offering you additional protection. Which you do not need, because it will not come to violence tonight. Especially not for you.”
“Is she going to hurt you?” Horror was squeezing my throat, but Tyralk busted out laughing, and Vrathgar coughed.
“No, no.” Khal turned back towards me, speaking quickly.
“No, parents don’t hurt their children, not like…
I’ll be safe with her. No, if I fight someone, it will be someone else, alright?
I am not fighting my mother. Vrathgar is talking out of his ass, alright?
” And Vrathgar snorted, but I watched Khal read my face, worry and pity in his eyes.
I looked away. “That’s fine then,” I said, meaningless words. Everything had been broken since the start; nothing was fine, but no one was going to bother to explain, because I was deadweight.
“Do you have what you need?” Vrathgar was asking.
“Yes. All I need is the staff.”
Vrathgar shook his head. “If you’re fighting a monster, you use tools for a monster. You’re good with the narik, just use it.”
Khal sounded like he was miles away. “My cousin isn’t a monster, heart-brother.” His friend gave a snort. But I didn’t need to understand; this was not my people, this was not my place, and I didn’t need to understand-
A hand fell on my shoulder, and I jumped. Tyralk’s mother, Zhana, pulled back. She gestured towards me, and spoke, that flowing tongue. I wished I had power left to understand.