Authors: Amber Argyle
24. Summer’s Gift
Ilyenna lay on the only bed in the women’s house, staring at the tiny beams of light coming through the holes in the roof. She held one beam in her hand. It left a tiny pocket of warmth on her palm.
“We just can’t leave her! You know what he’ll do,” Larina argued with the other women.
Ilyenna grunted softly. “As if you can stop him.”
“She’s your clan mistress,” Varris said hesitantly. “If she wants you to go, you should obey.”
“She won’t be my clan mistress much longer!” Larina blurted before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Ilyenna, I’m sorry.”
Ilyenna held back a smile. While she’d been away, Larina had taken it upon herself to become the Shyle clanwomen’s leader. It was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. But if Larina wanted to be a leader, it was time she learned some of the harder lessons. “Larina, you know the saying ‘Sometimes you have to lose a sheep in order to save the flock.’”
Throwing her hands in the air, Larina started pacing again. “You’re not a sheep!”
The other Shyle women watched her nervously. Ilyenna knew how desperately they wanted to run, how much they feared Darrien would change his mind and stop them. But they stayed. Partly, she guessed, out of loyalty, and partly out of guilt over leaving her behind.
With a sigh, Ilyenna released the little ray of light. She stood and gripped Larina’s shoulders, halting her pacing. “Don’t you understand? Raiders are coming over Shyle Pass. You have to warn our clan. You have to make sure your families are safe. Larina, if you’re going to be a leader, you must learn to put the clan ahead of the clanwoman.”
Wasn’t that what High Chief Burdin did?
a little voice inside her nagged. What they’d all done? By the Balance, it was hard to be the one thrown to the wolves.
Ilyenna looked at each of the women in turn before her gaze settled back on Larina. “You have to help Bratton. He’ll be alone.” Larina had loved Ilyenna’s brother for years. Ilyenna had never approved, but if it got Larina out,
all the better.
With a wistful look on her face, Larina gazed out the door, toward home. “But how can we leave you here with him?”
Remembering something her brother had said, Ilyenna released her. “Let the dead take care of themselves. You must concentrate on the living.”
Larina gaped at her. “You’re not dead!”
“I may as well be.”
Larina stared at her for a long time before she finally nodded. The other women kissed Ilyenna goodbye and slowly shuffled outside.
The last one out, Larina paused at the threshold. “The Shyle are strong as stone,” she whispered.
Ilyenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Supple as a sapling,” she finished. She lay back on the bed and waited for death or sleep—anything to take her away from her fate, if just for a moment.
Unfortunately, Metha came instead, barreling into the room with a bundle under one arm and a fat baby in the other. She set both down on the table and looked Ilyenna over with a critical eye. “No Tyran bride is going to look like she just walked a few hundred miles. Especially not one marrying the clan chief.”
To Metha’s credit, her voice didn’t waver. Ilyenna studied her, looking for hidden remnants of jealousy or anger. But Metha simply looked bossy.
Well, that’s nothing new, Ilyenna thought.
Ilyenna introduced Varris and Metha,
then said, “And I did just walk a few hundred miles.”
“That’s no excuse for looking like it.” Metha shook out a wedding dress. This one was old, simple, and beautiful.
Sky blue, the Tyrans’ color. Intricate embroidery lined the hems. Judging by the size, it had obviously been meant for Metha’s wedding.
“I can’t take your dress,” Ilyenna said.
“Humph,” Metha grunted. She hauled Ilyenna out of the bed. “Try it on so this girl of yours and I can get to taking it in.” She started pulling Ilyenna’s clothes off.
Helping only as much as was absolutely necessary, Ilyenna studied Metha.
The woman was obviously flustered, but not about seeing Ilyenna’s bare skin. “I thought you hated me,” she said as they tugged the dress over her head.
Metha pulled pins out of her mouth and stabbed them into the dress. Ilyenna looked away. If she was going to be jabbed, she’d rather not know about it until it happened. Metha had almost finished them all before she finally spoke. “You were right. Darrien nearly killed me and Harrow. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have done that, especially to his child.”
Varris gasped and stared at Metha and Harrow. Metha stopped her fussing to frown at her. Varris quickly looked away. “Why didn’t he marry you?” she blurted.
Pain crossed Metha’s face but was quickly replaced by anger. “Because he’d already taken what he wanted from me. I didn’t have anything else to offer.”
Varris studied Ilyenna. “Then what does he want with you?”
Ilyenna folded the sleeve for Metha to pin.
“To break me. And he wants claim to the Shyle.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And revenge for me killing his brother and for my father killing Undon.”
Metha froze, staring at Ilyenna. “Hammoth was a good man!”
Ilyenna looked away. “No. He was better than Darrien, perhaps, but good men don’t murder women and children and band with Raiders.”
“I don’t believe he did any of that.” Metha wiped her eyes as she struggled to pull herself together. “Even as a child, Darrien made sure anyone who crossed him paid dearly.” She shrugged. “I thought it would make him a good leader. It might have, if he cared about anything other than power.”
With quick, sure fingers, she undid the shoulder laces. The dress dropped to the floor, exactly as a wedding dress was meant to. Ilyenna shivered as her skin adjusted to being bare—and out of sick dread.
From the bundle Metha had brought with her, she pulled out a long sheet and a bar of soap. Normally, a procession of women would have accompanied Ilyenna from her home to the river. They would’ve helped her bathe, rubbed scented oils in her skin, and put flowers in her hair. Ilyenna was glad that part was not to be. She didn’t want the ministrations of unknown women.
Metha handed the sheet to Ilyenna. “You’ll be all right alone?”
She nodded. The only Tyran she had to fear was Darrien, and she couldn’t see him moving up their rendezvous. No, he’d make her dread every second of the wait. She wrapped the sheet around herself and hurried to the river. She did a thorough job, not for Darrien, but for herself.
Numerous fairies spun around the flowers. The blooms grew bigger, their scent stronger. It was almost as if the summer fairies were giving Ilyenna a wedding gift. Still, she left the flowers where they grew. She was halfway back to the women’s house when Hanie appeared. The girl’s face was red from crying. Ilyenna knew she’d just learned Undon was dead—by Ilyenna’s father’s hands.
Hanie shyly handed her a fistful of brightly colored flowers, saying in a voice thick with tears, “I picked these for you. No one else would.”
Ilyenna’s heart sank at the child’s honest words. It appeared the other Tyrans wouldn’t be eager to accept Ilyenna. “Thank you, Hanie, for your kindness. It means a great deal.” Her voice tripped over the last few words, and she realized how much she really meant them.
Hanie and Metha.
The only friends she had in this place.
With a small smile, Hanie turned and ran away. Ilyenna walked slowly back to the women’s house. Now that her wedding was so close, she wanted to delay as much as possible. She
kicked rocks and stopped to gaze into the woods. When she arrived at the house, she sighed and went inside.
Metha looked up. “We only had time to do a running stitch. It’ll have to do.”
Ilyenna smiled for Metha’s and Varris’s benefit. “No one will notice.” She didn’t care what she looked like on her wedding day, but she wanted them to know she appreciated their efforts.
Metha yanked the sheet off and tugged the dress over Ilyenna’s head. She ran a broken-toothed comb through Ilyenna’s damp hair. She weaved a stalk of wheat in a thin braid from ear to ear across Ilyenna’s head. The only time a clanwoman wore her hair down was on her wedding day.
“Where did you find all those flowers?” Varris asked as she took them one by one and handed them to Metha, who wove them through Ilyenna’s hair.
“Hanie brought them,” Ilyenna replied.
Metha’s fingers slowed and she said, “I knew she’d come around.”
When they’d finished, Metha held up a mirror that was so old the outer edges had black, spiderweb-like cracks around the edges.
“You did a good job,” Ilyenna said. Her black hair hung to her waist, dotted with flowers. The dress’s blue was the color of the winter sky. Though the seams were a bit rough, it fit her well. It was snug across her bust and waist. There was no overdress—nothing to hide or distract. A clanwoman’s wedding dress was meant to show off the bride. Unfortunately, it made Ilyenna feel more vulnerable. She wished Rone could see her like this, with flowers in her loose hair.
She wished it was him coming to her door. Instead, Metha left to tell Darrien that Ilyenna was ready.
While Metha was gone, Varris’s gaze darted from the door to Ilyenna. “Listen to me, Ilyenna. Mother sent Riesen clanman to the border. They’re waiting for us.”
Ilyenna bit her lip. “We’d never make it.”
Varris gripped Ilyenna shoulders and shook her. “Rouse yourself, Ilyenna! I know you’re fighting the sadness. I know it’s overwhelmed you, but you have to keep trying! You can’t give up and go quietly.”
Tears stung Ilyenna’s eyes. “How will I get away?”
Varris gripped her knife and held it out, hilt first.
“You want me to kill him?” Ilyenna gaped at the weapon. “They’ll hang me!”
Varris shook her head. “Mother and I spoke with Clan Chief Burdin. You’re a clan mistress. Any crimes you commit will be tried before the Council. They would never convict you. In fact, they will claim you killed Darrien for treason.”
Ilyenna tried to piece the fragments of her soul back together. “I’d have to escape first! There are Tyrans everywhere. How will I make it to the Council?”
Varris nodded toward the stable. “I’ll have horses waiting. After Tyranholm sleeps, we’ll run for it.”
Ilyenna took the knife and stared at it. It felt heavy in her hand. “I’m a healer, not a murderess.”
Varris closed her hand over Ilyenna’s. “How many innocent people are dead because of Darrien? How many more will die if he lives? This is the only way the Council can do away with him without stirring up a civil war.”
Ilyenna shot to her feet. “You’ve had this planned for days! Why did you wait until now to tell me this?”
Varris winced.
Ilyenna’s fingers tightened around the knife. “The Council planned this from the beginning.”
Varris pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Ilyenna. They’re just trying to save the lands.”
Ilyenna threw her hands up. “They’re using me! If keeping me alive sparks the civil war they so fear, they’ll hang me anyway, despite their promises.”
Varris went stiff. “That won’t happen. Mother and I would smuggle you out before it got to that point.”
Ilyenna tipped back her head and laughed. “You really are as naive as I was. If you smuggle out a murderess, they’ll hang you in my place. Are you willing to risk that for me, Varris?”
Tears filled the girl’s eyes. “I risked my life to come with you. And I’ll risk it again when we escape. Isn’t that enough?”
Ilyenna’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”
A knock sounded. Ilyenna started and stared at the door.
Varris took the knife and shoved it up Ilyenna’s sleeve. “The Council came up with a way to ensure your freedom. Take it.”
Ilyenna waited for her emotions to drown her, for tears to well in her eyes. But nothing came except an immense sadness. When a man and a woman came together, they joined the opposite sides of the Balance, making a circle. The Link. Marriage to Darrien was anything but balanced. It was a mockery of what she’d had with Rone.
The door flew open. Darrien gave a slight nod of approval and stepped inside. Ilyenna’s mouth suddenly went dry. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.
He smiled wickedly at her. “You can come on your own or be dragged.”
His obvious delight at the prospect finally did it. He would never touch her. Just before she left the house, she turned to look at Varris. The woman stood rooted to the spot, her face ashen. “Take it,” she mouthed.
Ilyenna gave a slight nod. Walking past Darrien, she started toward the clan house. Already, twilight was coming on.
He hurried to catch up. “Eager are we?”
She wanted to vomit. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He grabbed her arm, steering her away from the clan house. Just below his fingertips rested Varris’s knife. Ilyenna felt sweat bead her brow.
If he felt it . . .
But he hadn’t noticed it yet. “It’s not often a clan chief marries,” he said. “We have people to greet.”
He was actually going through with the traditional parade? Would his foolishness never end? “Your clanmen are leaving for war, and you want them to celebrate? Give you gifts? Besides, as soon as the steward comes, you’ll be disposed.”