Morrighan (8 page)

I looked back at him, swallowing my disgust and shame. “You are nothing but an animal to me, same as the others.”

Steffan bolted toward me, spouting about lessons and my lack of respect, but Jafir stepped in front of him, knocking him to the side and advancing toward me in his place. He raised his arm, the back of his hand poised to strike me. “Hold your tongue, girl, unless you'd like me to cut it out.” He leaned close, his voice lowering to a growl. “
Do you understand?
Now, step back with the others.”

My eyes stung. Who was he? Not the Jafir I thought I knew. My vision blurred. “How could you do this?”

He glared at me, his face and chest glistening with sweat in the firelight. He smelled of horse, dirt, and deceit. “Step back,” he ordered again between gritted teeth.

I returned his glare. “I hate you, Jafir de Aldrid,” I whispered. “And I vow I'll curse your name and hate you with my last dying breath.”

“Enough! Ride out!” Harik yelled, turning his horse around. “We have what we want.” And then at Ama, a pointed glare. “For now.”

They left, Jafir last of all, following on their heels.

Their departure was hasty and wild, just like their arrival, and Pata screamed, scrambling to avoid a horse charging in her direction. She fell, but the horses kept going. One stepped on her, crushing her leg. She writhed in pain, and we ran to her aid. Carys examined her and said the leg was badly broken. Six of us gently lifted and carried her to what was left of the longhouse and cleared a place among the scattered debris to lay her down. Carys began examining her leg as Oni whispered words of comfort into Pata's ear.

Micah came running out of the darkness, dragging a bag behind him. “The last one dropped this! It slid from his saddle, and he didn't even notice.”

“Then we may at least have something to be grateful for,” Ama said, as she took an inventory of what might be salvaged.

One bag of wild oats.

I would not be grateful for it! And I would never stay my hand again when a knife was in my reach.

Chapter Eighteen

Jafir

The revelry lasted late into the night. They piled the plunder in the lodge, ate what was left of the boar, and drank generously from Harik's brew. Fergus was in high spirits, looking over the pile. “Our clan will leave tomorrow,” he said as if, with this much bounty, there would never be a better time. But Harik eyed the pile too. A hefty share was his. He and his men would stay the night, then head back to his fortress across the river in the morning. With the high water, it was too dangerous to cross at night. The water already lapped over its span.

I lay on my bedroll, staring up at the sky between the open rafters. Exhaustion raced through me. Every part of me had been tight and ready to pounce for hours. I'd done everything I could to lead them astray, even saying I had spotted fires in opposite directions. But when the strong smell of roasting boar wafted across our trail, there was no stopping them.

My muscles had coiled into knots, watching both Harik and Steffan, uncertain what they would do. Watching them all.

And then seeing Morrighan. Her eyes. Her expression.

I hate you, Jafir … I will hate you with my last dying breath.

I closed my eyes.

We were leaving. She'd be grateful for that. She would never have to see me again.

But I would always see her. Until I drew my last breath, it would always be her face I saw when I closed my eyes at night, and her face again when I woke each morning. I would force myself to forget the last words I heard from her lips. I would remember others.

I love you, Jafir de Aldrid.
Words that, now, I was sure I had never deserved.

I finally fell asleep just before dawn and woke late. When I walked outside, Steffan was sprawled on the ground, passed out and straddling the doorway, still reeking of Harik's brew. I stepped over him and saw Laurida and Glynis packing up belongings, tying many of them in the skins we had stolen last night. Down near the paddock, I saw others loading up horses with more goods.

“Fergus wants your help with the supplies down in the lodge,” Laurida told me. When I got there, he was alone, putting the supplies into stacks.

“Where are Harik and his men?” I asked.

“Gone.” Fergus didn't look up, still consumed with the goods, his eyes heavy from little sleep.

I looked at the supplies. They were all still there. “Harik didn't take his share?”

“His gift to us. I think he was reluctant to part without any, but the girl was enough. He thanked us for finding her.”

I was groggy from lack of sleep and thought I had missed something. “What do you mean,
the girl was enough
?”

“He thinks she has the knowing, like her grandmother. He went to get her before he crosses the bridge.”

“He's taking her? Now?”

“It's his right. She's—”

“No!” I shook my head, turning in all directions trying to focus.
Think, Jafir.
“No. He can't—”

“Stop yapping like a wounded coyote!” Fergus snapped.

I whirled back to face him. “How long ago did he leave?”

“An hour ago. Maybe more.” He stared at the stolen goods and began to tell me how he would parse them out among the horses. “Along with our own supplies, there will be enough to—”

I grabbed a large sack of grain, pulling it from a stack. “I need this!” He moved to stop me, and I shoved him away. “I'm taking it. Stay back!”

His eyes filled with disbelief, then rage. I had never challenged him before. He lunged at me, and I swung, connecting with his jaw and knocking him to the ground. He lay there stunned by the blow. I grabbed the sack of grain and ran to my horse without looking back.

Chapter Nineteen

Morrighan

“You are all teeth and elbows! Stop fighting me, or I'll drag you by a rope behind us!” Harik's hand clamped around my arm, and my breath caught with pain. I nodded so he would stop. I had already pleaded, begged, and cried out for Ama, who had struggled to follow us. She was far behind me now. Nothing would sway him.

I rode on his horse in front of him, and two men almost as big as Harik rode on either side of us, with two more riding behind. Harik's chest was a massive wall at my back, and his arms curved around me to hold the reins, imprisoning me like a giant shackle. Sobs still caught at my throat.

“And stop that noise!” he ordered. “I am your father!”

“You are no father of mine,” I seethed. “You are nothing!”

“The old woman has poisoned you against me.”

“No poison was required. You've earned my hatred all on your own.”

“Morrighan,” he said, not to me, but to the air. He grumbled a low sigh, as if the name brought him grief. “She chose that name long before you were even born. I cared for your mother.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to hear about my mother from him. I spat to the side, wishing I could turn and hit his face instead. “You cared so much that you stole my aunt too?”

“I stole neither. Venda came on her own, and your mother never left the tribe. She met with me secretly. Neither of us knew her heart was too weak to bear a child.”

“I don't want to hear any more,” I said.

“Shut out the truth if you wish, but you must face the fact—”

“The truth?” I yelled. “The truth is you tricked my mother! You deceived her! Just as you deceived Venda!”

I felt his bulky chest rise against my back in a deep angry breath. “That is Gaudrel's truth. Mine is another. Be silent now, girl. I'm weary of your chatter. You'll contribute to my household from this day forward. That is all you need to know.”

One of his men snorted as if Harik had already allowed me to speak too much. I was less than a prisoner to them. I was property. But I knew I was something else too. Something so shameful even Ama wouldn't speak of it.

I was one of them. Half scavenger. Was that why she had lied about my father being dead? Had she hoped that by erasing it from memory, she could erase it from my blood, too? Was there some part of me—his part—always in danger of coming to the surface? My skin crawled thinking of it, and I wished I could banish the knowledge of him from my head. The fortress on the other side of the river grew in the distance, hideous ruins that would soon be my home. I thought of my last glimpse of Ama reaching out for me, and tears welled in my eyes again.

We had been making a pallet to carry Pata when they came. In another hour, we would have been gone, but no one had expected a return visit so soon. We had nothing left for them to take—at least that's what we had thought. I had already been choking back tears all morning. The sight of Jafir jumped again and again through my thoughts, the flash of events swirling, his words, so strained and measured,
Do you understand? Now, step back.
Something about them didn't feel right, didn't fit with everything else.

One of Harik's thugs slowed his horse and stood high in his stirrups, squinting into the distance. “Someone's coming,” he said. They all stopped, and we turned to watch the rider racing across the barren ground, leaving a long trail of dust behind him. I shook my head, confused. I knew who it was.
What was he doing?

The brute sat back in his saddle. “Only one of the Fergus clan.”

Harik slid from his saddle and pulled me down with him, announcing we would make a short stop while we waited for Fergus's messenger. He shoved a skin of water toward me, but I refused it. “You will drink sooner or later. And thank me for it.”

“I will never thank
you
for anything.”

His brows pulled down sharply as if his patience was spent, his chest puffing up, and I thought he might strike me, but then he paused, studying me, and something else passed through his eyes. He blinked and looked away. I wondered if he had seen my mother when he looked at me. Ama said I looked just like her except for my hair.

The wild thud of hooves descended on us, and Jafir pulled back, bringing his horse to a quick stop. He slid from his saddle but avoided my gaze, looking only at Harik. He wasted no time letting him know the purpose of his visit. “I've come to trade. I have a bag of grain for her.”

Harik stared at him, then finally laughed, realizing Jafir was serious. “A single bag of grain? For her? She's far more valuable than that.”

Jafir's eyes turned molten. “It is all I have. You will take it.”

There was a drawn moment of held breath and then low snickers from Harik's men. Their hands went to the swords, eager to draw them from their scabbards. I stared at Jafir, his feet planted as if nothing could move him. All he carried at his side was a dagger. Had he gone mad?

I would cut out my own heart before I would let any harm come to you.

“Do you hear yourself, boy?” Harik asked. “Are you still drunk from last night?”

“I am not drunk. I am waiting.”

“And if I don't make the trade, then what?”

Jafir's hand went to the dagger at his side, resting but threatening. “You are a man of reason. And you know value. You know what is best. You will take the grain.”

Harik rubbed his chin as if amused by Jafir's audacity, and his other hand curled around the hilt of his sheathed sword. I inhaled, choking back a moan. Harik's gaze shot to me. I couldn't breathe. He studied me, his expression impossible to read, and then he finally grunted, shaking his head. “So that's how it is.”

He looked back at Jafir, deep lines furrowing across his brow in a scowl. “You are a fool, boy. I am getting the better deal. She is trouble, this one. Have it your way! Take her!” He shoved me toward Jafir, and I stumbled, almost falling at his feet. I got my footing and looked back at Harik uncertainly, wondering if it was a trick.

His eyes lingered on me, and then he abruptly turned to Lasky and yelled, “Take the grain from his horse, and let's go!”

I watched them ride off, galloping toward the bridge.

“Get on my horse, Morrighan,” Jafir ordered from behind me. “We don't have a lot of time.”

I whirled, staring at him, his eyes still full of fire. Fury reignited in me, and my hand flew toward his face. His hand shot up, catching my wrist in midair. Both of our arms strained against each other, our gazes locked, and then he pulled me to him, his arms holding me tight, my shoulders shaking, his chest wet with my tears.

“I had no choice, Morrighan,” he whispered. “I had to ride with them. Steffan told them about you. I tried to send them off course, but they caught the scent of the roasting boar.”

He stiffened and pushed me away. His shoulders pulled back. He looked different to me. Distant. Older. There were lines at his eyes that hadn't been there yesterday. “I'll take you back to your camp now.”

“So you're not
buying
me with my own sack of grain?”

His nostrils flared. “You'll never have to see me after today. I knew you'd be happy to hear that. I'm leaving with my clan. They still need me.”

I stared at him, a new ache worming through me. My mouth opened, but no words would form. “You're leaving,” I finally repeated.

“This can't be all there is,” he said. “It is no way to live. There has to be a better place than this. Somewhere. A place where the children in my clan can have a different life than the one I've had.” His jaw clenched, and he added with a harder edge, “A place where someone can fall in love with whoever they want and not be shamed by it.”

He grabbed his horse's lead and motioned for me to get up.

All I wanted was to get back to the tribe, but I hesitated, feeling a strange nudge, his last words settling in some forgotten hollow.
Somewhere.
He motioned again, impatient, and I slid my foot into the stirrup. He got up behind me, reaching around to hold the reins as he had so many times, but now his arms felt rigid against my skin, as if he was trying to keep from touching me. We rode in awkward silence. I thought about the grain he had traded me for.
My grain.
Not his. I had a right to be angry. I owed him nothing.