“That is what it is. Come.” He nudged his mount to a quicker pace and she followed suit. “Keep watching.”
Watching nothing . . . until there was something. A slight ridge upon the ground ahead. As they drew nearer, a depression became visible—deep enough to conceal tents dyed to match the grasses.
In astonishment she looked to him. “There was nothing!”
“It is only a trick of the eye. Even from a short distance, there is nothing to see. Only the plain. An enemy either would be lucky or must know where it is to find anyone hidden within a hollow.”
So it seemed. Still bemused by the cleverness of that disguise, she rode with him into the small encampment. The Dragon rode behind them, along with two dozen other warriors who would stay secluded here. Hiding her away, so her father could not find her—and so that she would not suffer at his hands.
Yet the goddess almost never spoke clearly. And although Yvenne did not like to dwell on what couldn’t be known, she began to wonder if the suffering Zhalen would inflict on her would not be physical pain. For Maddek had seen so well to her protection. An entire army stood between her father and her.
But that distance between Maddek and her father would be erased. And if Maddek did not return from this battle, if Zhalen killed him . . . Yvenne would truly suffer.
She knew not if the same dread filled Maddek. But they had barely finished tending to their horses before he caught her up against his chest, carrying her to a private tent. Inside he kissed her, and it was with frantic need that she kissed him back. One night she had before he would leave, and then so much time would pass. Already those days were agony, and only by touching him could Yvenne seem to hold them back.
Fiercely she returned every caress, and his urgency matched hers. Rough he was, rougher than he’d ever been, his grip tight upon her arms and legs as he held her wrists to plunder her mouth and then devour her cunt, yet she wanted the bruises he might leave. She wanted to still feel his touch within her while he was gone, and Maddek fucked her so hard and so long that he must have wanted the same. Over and over he had her, kissing until she was breathless, making her scream and scratch and come. On her back, then riding him, then from behind, his grunts harsh in her ear as he branded himself on her, inside her.
Then he held her against him, her scarred back to his strong chest, arms wrapped around her and breathing in her hair. So quiet the tent was, only filled with the sound of their breaths.
She could not bear to sleep. Sleep would only bring him closer to leaving. Into the dark she whispered, “Did you think the tribe leaders would not approve of me?”
For perhaps that was why he’d waited to marry her, though they’d been on Temra’s altar. He might not have known whether he would have to choose between his bride and becoming Ran.
“No.” His voice was a quiet rumble. “All doubts were settled.”
“What doubts were those?” For she wanted very much to know what doubts might rise again in the future.
“About whether any lies were spoken.”
Oh. “That might change their vote if I had spoken lies?”
“It would.”
Not might. But would. So it was fortunate, then, that Maddek had accepted that she’d spoken truth about his mother, though his vow still stood while he was changing the habit of his view.
His hand swept up her arm, as if in reassurance. “You have no need to worry. They know that it was justified.”
She frowned, turning within his arms so that she might see his face, shadowed though it was. His eyes were closed and his voice had roughened in that lazy, drowsy way he had before drifting to sleep. “What was justified?”
“The lie you spoke. That my mother approved of you as my bride.”
He still did not believe her? Yvenne’s heart tightened painfully, and she sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes flew open even as she said, “That was no lie.”
“Yvenne—”
“It was no lie,” she said again, more forcefully. “I have never lied to you.”
“It matters not.” He caught her face in his hands. “My claws were at your throat. You lied to save your life. It was justified.”
“Justified? I need no justification. I spoke truth.”
Eyes closing, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Do you fear I will abandon you for it? I will never. We are allies. I know all else you have said to me is true.”
So sweetly he dug his claws beneath her breast. So gently he tore out her heart.
Throat raw as if filled with bloody wounds, she asked him, “This is what you said to the tribes? That I lied, but it was justified?”
“I did. And they agreed.”
“All of them? Did your Dragon say so, too?”
“They did. Of how we had attacked your carriage, seeking vengeance, and how you persuaded me to let you live. And then they spoke in support of you.”
“But did no one suggest that I might have spoken true? Did no one suggest that I might come and speak for myself instead of accepting your view of it? Is it so impossible to believe that she might have approved of me?”
“No,” he said quietly. “In time, she would have. As they do. As I do.”
Yet he still thought her claim had been a lie. Though justified. “So all is well,” she said thickly.
“It is.” Kissing her softly, he lay back again, drew her close.
Soon he slept. Because all was well.
Yet it was not.
Pressure behind her eyes and in her chest built, hot and aching. When she could bear it no longer, she carefully slipped out of his arms and collected her robe. Barely did she make it outside before her tears began to fall—and then there, too, she had to hold them back. For at the small fire were Kelir, Nami, and Seri sitting together, with Nami holding her daughter close. Everywhere were warriors quietly talking—and others had slipped away as she and Maddek had done.
Because the Parsatheans did not leave anything left unsaid. And before a battle, they took extra care to speak what needed to be spoken.
Yet what had Maddek said to her? That she was still a liar. Even though she insisted over and over again that it was truth. She was a justified liar. As if that made a difference when it meant he still did not trust her word. When he had said that never could he love a woman whose word he could not trust.
She had hoped so desperately that he had become entangled. So desperately she had wished for his heart.
Yet nothing had he said of love or affection. Only of being allies. Only of protecting her.
And no longer could she hold back the tears. Through the blurring of her eyes and the dark, she searched for somewhere alone. She found it at the edge of the hollow, where a small stream spilled into a pool that reflected the bright stars above. No moon there was this night; Vela’s face was turned away, so even the goddess would not witness these tears.