Season of Glory (9 page)

She finished her work and again allowed us to return to our chambers and slumber.
On the third day, I roused enough to be disgusted by my stench and the grease in
my hair.

“I really need a bath,” I moaned to Bellona when I saw her stir. A small gas lamp
was lit in the corner—I'd dimly recognized that a woman came several times a day
to refill our water pitcher and leave food, which we took turns at nibbling and drinking
before falling back into our deep slumber.

“Maybe if we bathed, it would help us break out of this eternal desire for sleep,”
she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

On the far side of the room, Tressa sat up, her auburn hair a crazy nest of curls.
“We have to
do
something,” she agreed. “Do you think it's sleeping in the cave? In
such darkness?”

“I think it's so many weeks of trauma,” I said, forcing myself to rise too. “If you
think over what we've done . . .”

“And how many miles we've covered,” Bellona added.

“Yes,” Tressa said, nodding while she yawned. “It makes sense. Even though I'd been
resting here while you two were busy escaping Pacifica. So . . . where do we bathe?”

“I think the Citadel has its own sauna, showers, and baths near the latrines,” I
said. “But I'd rather show you another spot. There's a mineral spring my father used
to take me to.”

“Oh, up past Thumb Rock?” Bellona asked.

“Yeah! Have you been there?”

“A few times,” she said. “That'd be good. Still a crop of sweet william up there
to use?”

“Yes, but I have something better,” I said, waggling my brows. I rose, stretched,
and went to my bag. “Jorre left me a bar of lavender soap the night we returned.”

Tressa clapped and looked instantly more awake. She rose and went to the corner of
the room to look through a pile of clothes that the maidservant had brought for us
to choose from. Underneath were several towels made from a fine, soft cloth. After
Bellona and I had each chosen new leggings, shirts, and sweaters—as well as new underwear
and a bra band that I was so happy to see that I nearly hugged it—we left our room
and walked down the corridor and past the guards, as if we did it all the time. I
felt some guilt leaving without telling Ronan where we were going, but I didn't want
him to see me as I was. I wanted to surprise him tonight, looking rested and clean.
Besides, Bellona was with us, and she carried her bow and quiver of arrows, as I
did my sword. We weren't going far.

Outside, Bellona told the guards where we were going, in case anyone asked.

The man grinned and tucked his thumbs into his front trouser pockets. “Well, now,
I think you girls might need a man to watch over you there.”

Bellona didn't return his smile. “Come anywhere near us, and I'll make certain you
never see a girl again,” she growled. “We'll be back in an hour or two. Tell no one
but Remnant or Knight where we've gone.”

I smiled as the man paled in shock at her words. We turned and climbed a trail that
wound through the boulders, then up through a small ravine to the left. At the top,
there was a rock that resembled a fist with a crooked thumb extended, which had spawned
the name. There, across a small meadow with underbrush that was becoming drier, signaling
the end
of Harvest, was a bubbling pool at the edge of a creek. The air was tinged
with the slightly foul smell of sulphur, and I knew Tressa's worry before she looked
at me.

“Don't be concerned,” I said to her. “Between the creek water and the lavender soap,
we won't smell like that. But the hot spring keeps it blessedly warm.”

It was more than warm, I found out. With the dwindling creek stream as Harvest waned,
there wasn't as much fresh water coming through. But we undressed and eased in carefully,
and found the hot, steaming water soothed the remaining knots in our muscles. We
lathered our hair and bodies and sank under the steaming water to rinse, then we
did it again and rinsed clean in the creek, the cold doing its good work to help
us feel more fully awake. “Come Hoarfrost,” I said to them, “we'll return here and
roll in the snow between soaks.”

“That's the best,” Bellona agreed.

“Or we can simply use the Citadel sauna,” Tressa tried, rubbing her bare skin, which
was covered in goose bumps.

I handed her the comb after I was done. “Trust me, it's worth a visit, even in snow.”

“Maybe you can come with your husband,” Bellona said, arching a brow. “It's long
been used in the Valley as a spot for young lovers to steal away for . . . well,
some bathing,” she said meaningfully, an uncommon grin on her lips.

Tressa blushed. “Yes, well, we'll see,” she said, wincing as she hit a particularly
stubborn knot in her hair. “I still can't believe the elders approved our binding,”
she added. “But tell me. In Zanzibar, I've only known of betrothals, not bindings.
I mean, on the streets, I heard of it. But I don't know . . . What I mean is, does
it . . .” Even flushed with the heat of the spring, we could see the blush rise on
her cheeks.

“You want to know how much intimacy bindings entail,” I said gently.

She gave me the faintest of nods. “The elders bade us to remain chaste, but does
that mean we cannot even . . . kiss?”

“It's up to the newly bound,” Bellona said gruffly. “Commonly decided between them.
Some decide to avoid kissing. Vidar and I will definitely be making
that
decision,
of course.”

I smiled with Bellona, knowing how she chafed at what was to come, then looked to
the swirling steam rising above the water.

“Is it what you truly want, Tressa?” I asked her. “I've known I loved Ronan for some
time. And I had the idea that you and Killian . . .”

She took a deep breath, putting her fingers to her lips, thinking. “Yes. It is what
I want. I simply had not allowed my mind to go there. But the thought of ever being
without Killian . . . Of bonding with another man as I have my Knight . . .” She
lifted her eyes to the quaking leaves above us, most of them already umber, and shook
her head. “No, the choice is simple.”

“But it goes beyond a Remnant-Knight bond between you, yes?” Bellona asked, sitting
down on a rock a few steps away, naked from head to toe and yet utterly at ease as
her skin steamed in the relative cool. “I am bound to Vidar. I admit that. But there
is no way I'd ever want to bed him.” She shivered at the thought, and I laughed.

“Yes, it goes beyond our Ailith bond,” I said.

“Far beyond that bond,” Tressa agreed, in little more than a whisper, her big, blue
eyes full of understanding, as if she were just coming to terms with it.

Bellona sighed. “I don't think I could
take
any more bonding with Vidar.”

And that made the three of us laugh until we cried.

We saw Vidar and Killian sitting on the rocks outside the Citadel, keeping watch
on the path we returned upon. Bellona turned at once, hand tightening on the curve
of her bow, until all of us recognized it was Ronan's presence behind us. “I told
the guard to tell you they were safe,” she grumbled.

“Yes,” he said, grabbing my hand and turning me around, looking me over from head
to toe. “I just had to be certain.”

“You didn't—” I started, horrified that he might have seen us.

“No, no,” he said with an impish smile. “As much as I
wanted
to. I just kept watch
on the far side to make sure you didn't get any
unwanted
company. When I heard your
voices fade toward the Citadel, I followed behind.” He reached up and pushed the
hair out of my face. “You look beautiful. And clean. And rested. And . . . beautiful,”
he repeated.

“So do you,” I said with a grin as he interlaced his fingers with mine.

“Yeah,” Vidar said, jumping off the rock as he fluttered his eyelashes in Ronan's
direction. “Bellisimo.”

Killian was already tugging Tressa along a side path, probably intent on stealing
a moment alone before supper. Bellona had continued along the trail, barely pausing,
and Vidar trotted after her. “Some guardian she turned out to be,” he huffed, with
no real malice in his tone.

And at that moment, I realized we were alone ourselves. Ronan lifted his arm to the
rock behind me and leaned in close. He closed his eyes, and let his lips drift a
hair's breath
away from my cheek, my nose, my other cheek, and into my hair. “Dri,”
he breathed. “Heavens, you smell wonderful.”

He did too. I lifted my hands to his new, clean shirt and tugged him closer, kissing
him then, ignoring how it reminded me of my healing ribs. His other hand pressed
against my lower back, pulling me firmly against him. On and on our kiss went, and
I realized that a few years from now I wouldn't blush when I thought of him seeing
me naked by a pool. We could know one another fully, as husband and wife, at that
time. Feeling my desire for him—along with his for me—I began to not only sense both
our emotions, but I could almost see them in explosions of color.
Vermillion red.
Verdant teal. Valley green . . .
I swallowed hard and edged away. “We should . .
. we should go back,” I said.

He nodded, his eyes full of desire, before resolutely stepping back. “We should.
Because here . . . in private . . . it's hard to keep that chaste boundary firmly
in place.”

I smiled mischievously. “Agreed.” I stepped closer and went to my tiptoes to kiss
him once more, softly on the lips.

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” he said softly, his voice nearly cracking
from feigned strain. He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked into mine. “The
Maker will give us the strength. We will figure out what we can do and what we cannot,
and wait until our true betrothal.”

“We will,” I said, offering my hand.

He took a firm grip of my hand and matched my easy stride back toward the Citadel.
“Ever think you were given the gift of sensibility over empathy?”

“Oh no,” I said, letting out a deep, long breath. “Because I just felt every bit
of my desire
and
yours. I'm most definitely an empath.”

And that made him grin all the wider.

CHAPTER
9

ANDRIANA

O
n the appointed evening, everyone in the Community dressed in shades of white—a
far
better
choice than the Pacificans' matrimonial blue, I thought—and trekked to the high meadow
on a wide path that was easily lit by the massive moon above us. Mom and Dad walked
beside me, arms entwined with mine, their collective emotions almost a burden, even
though it was mostly joy. I knew Ronan walked directly behind us. Fear and consternation,
as well as wonder and bliss, swirled like a tornado within my chest, until I concentrated
on asking the Maker to show me what I felt myself. Alone. And what I discovered there
was simply joy and peace.

We reached the top of the hill and gazed out at the wide meadow, full of thigh-high
grass that was now brittle brown, the green of its blades long spent. Our trainer
had brought us here over the years, to spar and perfect our methods of
crawling through
grass undetected. Even as children, we'd recognized it for what it was and avoided
fully looking each other in the eye until we'd left it. But now all I wanted was
to look Ronan full in the face, and have his look into mine.

Dad led us to the far side of the meadow, where the hillside fell away to a spectacular
view of the mountain ranges that protected our valley and the silver, winding river
at the center of it, now glittering in the moonlight. We could see all the way to
where the desert sands met the first trees, and beyond that to the bumpy dunes of
the Central Desert. It was a rarity, such clear skies and horizons—but as pretty
as it was, I couldn't wait for what was about to unfold, right here.

Mom, Dad, and I faced Cornelius and Ronan, all of us in a fit of smiles. Another
elder was on one end, and Kapriel and Azarel on the other. I didn't know how Raniero
had talked the elder out of his own binding to Azarel, but there had been no further
word of it. I was too focused on Ronan to think about it for more than a moment.
Around us, countless other couples faced one another, each surrounded by those closest
to them among the Community. Three women in long, white gowns moved to the center
of the meadow, each carrying a torch and a triangular bell that dangled from their
wrist. When they reached the center, they stood back to back. Together, they rang
their triangles three times, and the sound stilled us all.

“Ronan of the Valley,” Cornelius said, the timbre of his voice warm and joyful. “Andriana
of the Valley.” He nodded to each of us in turn. “Long have you both been loyal servants
of the Community, and tonight you pledge to love and serve the other for life, as
thoroughly as husbands and wives taking their full matrimonial vows do. Are you prepared
to do so?”