When a Moth loved a Bee, page 43
Only once all three wounds glistened with whatever medicine he’d used did he help me sit up.
I didn’t remember lying down.
With fatherly softness, Solin captured my cheeks in his astringent hands. The herbs in the salve teased my nose, vowing that, one day, I would know what they were once I started my lessons with Pallen and her apprentices.
I clung to that vow, all while Solin came back into focus. He kissed my forehead and looked at the smoke hole above. Outside, a spritz of stars had appeared, dazzling in the new fallen darkness.
“It is done.” Letting me go, he stood and wiped both hands on the bison fur wrapped around his hips. “You will learn what you have agreed to the moment we step out of this lupic. I hope to every flame that you will forgive me.”
I shuddered with gathering discomfort. “Solin…w-what aren’t you saying?”
He didn’t speak or offer me his hand to pull me to my feet, knowing my palms and their new ash-oozing tattoos were beyond touching for now.
“Solin?”
He just shook his head and raked fingers through his hair, tangling in his woven braids.
Keeping my hands tucked carefully against my belly, I stood without too much of a wobble.
Syn whimpered and nudged my thigh, sending me tripping before I caught my balance. “It’s okay, Syn,” I murmured, raising my palms to study what Solin had done.
I gasped at his mastery.
The fuzzy, plump body of a bumblebee took up my entire right palm. Its feelers spread up the insides of two of my fingers while its six legs fanned out over the edges of my hand. Its wings somehow looked as translucent as nature intended. Faint lines scratched over the body of the banded bee before swooping up my wrist as if the bee hovered in mid-air, its wings pinned up and proud, the softest hum of its flight echoing in my ears.
“Solin…” I looked up with fresh tears in my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
He winced as if my praise hurt him.
Syn sniffed the balm coating my newly drawn ash bee. She went to lick me, but I pulled out of her reach, dropping my right hand and raising my left.
The second tattoo wasn’t nearly as intricate or detailed.
It was small and symbolic.
Directly in the centre of my palm, two bison horns curved with their points almost touching. Beneath the crown of sharp-tipped crescent moon horns existed a flickering fire morphing into a blazing sun.
Looking up, I frowned. “What does it represent?”
Fiddling with his braids as if they needed redoing instead of being pristine, he muttered, “It’s the mark of our clan.” Solin looked at his left palm, tracing the silver-ashed mark that linked us. “The bison horns are the emblem of the Nhil. We’re named after light, as you know, and only exist thanks to the generosity of the bison who share our grasslands.”
Dropping his hand, he shrugged. “Three marks for the three clans of Quelis. Everyone knows their mark, but only the chief, chiefess, and Spirit Master from each clan may wear the symbol on their skin, drawn into their flesh with the ash of the fire that chose them.”
Coming toward me, he cupped my cheeks once more. His eyes burned black with intensity, scaring me. “I wish I knew who you truly are, Runa. I wish you could remember so you could see that what I’m about to do is far, far greater than you and I. Far greater than my people, my kingdom, and everything I hold dear. I cannot see past the visions I am granted but I beg you to…trust me.”
He exhaled with a wince. “Trust me and…forgive me.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
. Darro .
I COULD KILL THEM ALL with a single thought.
That knowledge.
That sickening, suffocating knowledge slammed into me the moment I heard Runa’s scream.
I threw myself at the two guards barring the lupic with their flimsy, stupid spears.
I threw a fist into the jaw of one of them.
And a shadow mimicked me, attacking the other like a mirroring piece of my spirit.
Both men toppled sideways, their spears clattering uselessly beside them.
Natim bleated and bolted, disappearing into the night.
Zetas snarled, and I almost managed to snatch the lupic’s entrance before Tral proved to be a chief of his word.
In a flurry of action and well-orchestrated discipline, I was suddenly surrounded by weapons.
“Get on your knees,” Tral commanded from behind me. “Kneel, and you won’t be hurt.”
“Tell your people to get out of my way, Chief.”
“Take another step, and the first thing Runa will see when she steps out of that lupic is your corpse.”
Zetas snarled at the spear points angled at my neck. The Nhil never took their eyes off me, even as the wolf growled and snapped at the long lengths of their weapons.
They didn’t flinch or waver. I knew in their locked knees and braced shoulders that they would die before letting me pass.
I let my very willing, very lethal shadows rip murderously through the camp.
A spear pressed against my jugular as a male with almond eyes and jet-black hair demanded, “Do as our chief says and kneel.”
My shades clashed and clouded in response, buffeting his spear with enough force to make him trip backward, bumping him against another hunter.
I gathered another gust of darkness—
“Don’t.” Tral’s voice came from behind me again. “Don’t be suicidal.”
Didn’t he understand it was them who had a craving for death, not me?
Their hearts would stop well before mine did.
Runa cried out again.
My heart tore up whatever mortal parts of me still existed and opened wide to what I truly was.
My shadows knocked two hunters off their feet without a single command. Their different coloured braids clacked with beads as they flew backward, and the brown fur around their hips padded their jarring fall. They landed with pained grunts, scrambling upright as fast as they could, tripping forward to angle their weapons at my face.
They glowered at me with ferocity, yet they couldn’t hide the trembling of their fear.
They feared me.
Their panic stunk like a decomposing carcass left in the sun.
“One last chance, Darro.” The chief’s voice slipped straight into fatal demands. “Kneel and this can all be forgotten.”
“She’s awake.” I chewed every word, crunching every letter. “She’s in pain. Let me see her.”
“Not before she comes out of her own accord.” Tral’s voice hovered directly over my left shoulder. “The pain is only minor,” he urged. “Every Nhil member goes through it. Some as young as ten when they’re first marked with their spirit guardian. I promise you; no true harm is befalling her.”
No true harm?
Didn’t he understand that any harm was unacceptable?
My vision blackened as my shadows grew so thick that the circle of hunters and their spears were cocooned in a cloud, blocking us off from the rest of the camp, intensifying over me in the centre until I moved in clotted night.
I pictured them all collapsed and silent on the ground.
I imagined every spear broken in half and every point crushed and dull.
I could eradicate them, not just kill them.
My shadows coiled to make my imaginings a reality.
My head tipped backward, my arms opened wide, and—
My mind split into excruciating pieces.
“Darro...”
I smiled and skated my finger down Runa’s body. “Umm?” Her skin glowed as luminous as the sun. Her eyes traded their mortal amber for the truth of what she was.
The truth that ought to separate us, ought to stop every touch, kiss, and love but only made us fight against the unfairness of our fate.
She arched up as my finger dipped inside her.
She moaned.
I’d kill for her.
Destroy for her.
Scorch the skies and poison the world for her.
“Darro—”
I silenced her with a wickedly deep kiss.
Her hips rose.
And I looked down upon the bed where we lay.
Bones.
Nothing but bleached and bloody bones.
I reared back as crimson droplets rained all over her face, splashing into her pristine white hair, staining the world a rich, ruby red.
Blood and bones.
The dynasty we’d promised not to cause.
Our bed of bones grew higher, higher until we touched the stars with our morbid mountain.
I screamed as shades poured down her throat, snuffing out her life, plunging the world into perpetual, ice-cold night—
My eyes flew wide as I gasped for breath.
I choked and clutched at the dirt with feral fingers.
Zetas whimpered beside me, her large horned head pressed to the ground, her yellow eyes glowing with worry. She licked my wrist hesitantly.
Her warmth seeped into me.
Her aliveness shed away the horror of my vision.
Just a dream.
Not real.
Breathing hard, my gaze locked on the closed entrance of the lupic.
Runa…
Had that truly happened?
Had I kissed her on a mountain of bones before suffocating her with my shadows?
Who are we?
Nhil hunters kept their spears trained on me, locking me in their tight circle. Their heights were different, their skin colours distinct, their eyes, fates, and histories were not the same, yet they all had one thing in common.
They’d been created by mortals who had birthed them.
They belonged in this world.
Yet…I had an awful suspicion that I did not.
That Runa did not.
That we weren’t…born.
And if that was true…
Perhaps, I was the monster here.
I shuddered at the thought of how close I’d come to murdering innocence just because it stood in my way.
Tral entered my spiralling thoughts, his voice heavy with concern. “Are you…okay?”
I refused to meet his eyes.
He was asking if I was okay?
After what I’d almost done?
“Darro?” He bent closer, studying me. “Are you well?”
I gave him a sharp nod. “I’m fine.”
“You collapsed.” His dark gaze travelled from me to Zetas and back again. “Perhaps the injuries you sustained from Lida and Kivva aren’t fully healed.” His eyes flared with another thought. “How long has it been since you ate or drank anything?”
I didn’t reply.
Curling my hands, I summoned back the shades. They struggled against me, making me fight to restrain them. They slithered and tangled, before finally obeying and fading from opaque to smoke, vanishing into my skin.
The hunters guarding me exhaled with a collective grateful breath.
Tral opened his mouth to ask more questions—questions I had no answers to—but the lupic’s entrance parted, and a happy, prancing lynx appeared.
Syn froze when she spotted me. Zetas rumbled quietly beside me. The two predators eyed each other up.
I went to stand—
Runa appeared.
All the ice in my chest and fear in my mind dissolved.
Every thought quietened.
Every worry disappeared.
My entire form shivered with relief.
I stumbled to my feet, swaying a little.
She froze for the briefest of heartbeats before she tripped into a run, flew through the sky, and launched herself into my arms.
I caught her.
I groaned.
The world made sense again.
“Runa…” My arms lashed around her, my nose nuzzled into her hair, every inch of us plastered into one.
The sound of disapproving inhales rippled around us.
I didn’t care Syn swatted my thigh with her claws.
I didn’t care Zetas tried to wedge her muzzle between us.
I didn’t care about my vision of bones and blood.
All I cared about was her.
I needed her.
To survive.
To stay good.
To remain in the light that was slowly dimming inside me.
Her skin to my skin. Her heart to my heart. Her scent and sweat and—
I inhaled a spicy, iron smell.
Blood.
Pulling back, I held her at arm’s length, searching for the wounds I could smell. “What…what did he do to you?”
Biting her lower lip, she spread her palms, revealing the artwork in her skin. “I’ve been given a spirit guardian of my namesake and the adoptive mark of the Nhil.” Twisting her wrist, she revealed the carefully scribed bee and its intricate wings fluttering up the inside of her arm.
“You’re awake.” Her attention slid all over me, lingering on my jaw and temple. “Are you hurt? Did Olish—”
“I’m fine,” I murmured.
Her face whitened as she looked past me to the guards ringing me with spears still pointed. She frowned. “Why are your weapons drawn?” she asked the hunters. Her amber stare met mine. “Why were you on your knees?” Looking from me to Tral, she demanded. “You said he’d be welcomed. You promised—”
“And he is welcomed. No harm came to him.” Tral crossed his mighty arms and raised his chin as if needing his physical strength to justify his actions. The way he watched Runa wasn’t the same as when I’d spied on them the night Syn bit me.
Back then, he’d looked at her as a guest: an unknown, nameless girl who may or may not survive a trance that he unwillingly approved. But now? Now, he watched her like she might burst into flames at any moment. As if she was as powerful as any witch that might exist in other kingdoms that I’d never seen.
“He wasn’t allowed to go into the lupic until you and Solin were fully coherent,” Tral stated. “The ash tattoos needed to be completed, but he heard you cry out and—”
“I tried to get to you.” I ran my hand down her arms, immensely grateful that the burn between us was still there. The hum in my crescent-moon mark comforted me, threading with my pulse, almost as if our blood pumped through the same heart. “I hated hearing you in pain.”
She smiled just for me. “I’m okay, Darro.”
My name on her tongue did things to me.
Things that made a shadow slip free and slip through her hair with a night-ribbon caress.
The Spirit Master appeared behind Runa.
Tral’s disapproving expression broke into the broadest grin.
Striding toward the other tall male, Tral exclaimed, “By the fire, I was so worried. Three days, Solin!”
The two males embraced. They were almost the same height, although the Fire Reader was slimmer and leaner than the chief. Their hair shimmered with the same blue-black shade in the moonlight, and their noses carried the same straight shape. Even their dark eyes were similar, revealing to anyone who noticed that they were more than just leaders but kin.
Their embrace was fierce and fast.
“Don’t do that again.” Tral laughed, patting Solin on the shoulder and tugging on one of his braids. “You should’ve told me your duties as Fire Reader were getting too much for an old man. Next time you need a break, tell me before taking a nap that lasts so long.”
Solin chuckled. “Next time I propose a shared trance, remind me not to.”
“Deal.”
Solin glanced at Runa. “Then again, I’ll have no need to do another.”
I couldn’t stop the flare of night.
It whipped out of me, tangling around my waist.
The Fire Reader’s jaw clenched; Runa subtly moved to my side. She ran her fingers over my knuckles, leaving a wake of heat.
Swallowing hard, I yanked back the shadows, flinching as they dissolved unwillingly.
Tral shook out his bulk and tried to return the conversation to something somewhat normal. “So, brother, are you ready to feast after such a long nap?”
Solin rubbed his bare stomach. “I could eat an entire bison.”
“Good because that’s what’s been roasting all day.”
Runa gave Zetas a half-pat, careful to keep her wounds free from wolf hair. Syn stayed by her hip, glaring at me with warning.
It seemed we had yet another fanged chaperone.
For the first time, I actually questioned their steadfast attempts to keep Runa and me from touching.
My back tensed as Solin padded barefoot toward me. The bison fur around his hips hung low, and a string of animal teeth clicked softly down his moonlit chest. I narrowed my eyes and stood to my full height, grateful that even though the Fire Reader was tall, I was taller.
His eyes locked onto mine.
I tensed for a fist or a curse, but he surprised me by saying, “Thank you for keeping Runa safe. I don’t know how she woke from the trance without me or how she slipped unseen from the lupic, but she told me you found her.” He glanced at Runa. “I’m grateful you were there at the right time.”
His entire demeanour changed to one of affection and pride the moment he looked at her.
I didn’t like this male.
I didn’t trust this male.
The way he watched her.
The love he held for her…
My hackles prickled, and I rested my palm on the small of her back, stroking the beads of her spine with my thumb.
She inhaled and caught my gaze but then relaxed into my soft petting, leaning closer and soothing the darkness snapping with its black fangs inside me.
Solin didn’t miss the way she swayed toward me.
Clapping his hands, Tral raised his voice at the milling crowd, “Our beloved Spirit Master has finally awoken! Gather around the fire. Pass around the feast!”
A crest of happy hoots and hollers spread around the night-kissed camp.
The hunters dispersed from around us, placing their spears down and going to join their loved ones passing large platters of food around. The central fire blazed with fresh fuel, and the energy around the camp switched from waiting and worried to one of celebration and contentment.
