Her silence did not mean punishment. It meant she was hurt. All this morning she had been.
Maddek did not believe it was her shattered knee that had pained her. Often it must have, yet she’d still spoken to him. “So what reason for your silence?”
A careless shrug lifted her shoulders, yet his question stole the light from her eyes. “I only wished to be left to my own thoughts.”
Thoughts of what hurt her, no doubt. But also thoughts she clearly had no wish to share. Maddek could allow her that, as there was much he did not wish to share, either. Such as the hot jealousy within him, or the clenching of his chest whenever he recalled Yvenne saying she regretted her choice of husband.
“I imagine a queen has many clever thoughts to occupy her,” Toric said, blushing more deeply with every word.
“More clever thoughts than the king she will marry,” Kelir observed, earning a grunt of agreement from Maddek and a laugh from the others. “So your bride will have long silences like Danoh’s.”
The mention roused the quiet warrior. Frowning, Danoh looked up from her plate. “I do not wish to be left to my thoughts. I hold my tongue out of habit.”
Kelir appeared chagrined for teasing her. With a nod, he stuffed his mouth full. The others looked everywhere but at Danoh, except for Yvenne, who waited for more explanation.
When none came forth, she asked for it. “Habit . . . because you hunt so often?”
Danoh shook her head. “The habit of not saying words best left unspoken.”
Yvenne’s curiosity sharpened. “Do you often want to?”
“When I was a girl, quite often. Now the desire is gone but the habit is left.”
“Until we see your mother again,” Ardyl said dryly. “Then the desire will likely return.”
Danoh’s grin flashed. “Screaming at her is only habit, too. Once, I believed it would make her hear me. But she only hears my father . . . and that will never change.”
With a heavy sigh, Banek shook his head. Uncertainty pinched Yvenne’s mouth as she glanced from him to Danoh, clearly wondering what she meant by that but also clearly sensing that tender ground was being tread upon.
Danoh caught that uncertain glance. “My father was one of the Destroyer’s warlords.”
And the Destroyer’s armies violated all they defeated. Yet it was the female warriors who’d had to bear more than the pain and humiliation of their rape.
“I see.” Sympathy and understanding warmed Yvenne’s response. “We cannot always choose our fathers—or heal our mothers.”
A slight smile curved Danoh’s mouth. “No, we cannot,” she agreed. “And something in my mother was injured more deeply than in others. Most warriors took the half-moon milk afterward. There were some who wanted a child and cared not how it came to be. My mother . . . she would not take the half-moon milk but neither did she want me. So I spent many years wondering why give birth to me if only to hate me and beat me? And I was angry for it.”
“It was a disgrace,” Banek muttered. “Both what she did to you and how long it took others in your clan to see.”
“I was almost a hunter’s age before I was taken from her,” she said to Yvenne. “But in those early years, after the Destroyer, many were blinded by grief and pain. How many were lost? How many violated? It must have been difficult to see through that to one young girl.”
“You are more forgiving than you should be,” the old warrior told her. “You were right to be angry.”
“And angry I was.” Danoh shrugged. “Until she told me that she gave birth to me because the only way she could make my father pay for what he did to her was by making his child pay.”
Anger tightened Maddek’s jaw. “Such words should never be spoken.”
“I’m glad they were spoken,” Danoh replied with an unexpected laugh. “I wanted her to be a mother as yours was. And yours. And yours.” She looked to Kelir and then Toric. “But after she told me that, I knew she would never, and I stopped wishing for what could not be.”
As every warrior should. Still Maddek shook his head, because it should not have been so.
“I feel no anger toward her now,” she continued. “I pity her. My mother is a warrior through and through—and she makes use of what she has. But the Destroyer’s warlord did not leave her much.”
“He did not,” Banek agreed softly.
“So that is the story of my mother,” Danoh said as she turned again to Yvenne. “And your mother killed the warlord who was my father. So I ask Banek for more tales of her than of any other—and I would rather hear new songs of Queen Vyssen fighting the Destroyer’s armies than another of Ran Bantik.”
“If there are songs about my mother, I know none of them. And I hope Banek will share them with me one day.”
“That I will, my lady. Now?”
“Perhaps another night, as those songs will only be new to me. Not to Danoh.” Yvenne looked to the warrior beside her. “My favorite tale about my mother is not likely one you’ve heard, as it happened after the alliance was formed, after she slew the demon-queen, after she was imprisoned in the tower. The poison weakened her body, and she was weakened further after giving birth to Lazen. Still, whenever my father tried to visit her bed to get more sons upon her, she tried to kill him. So he had her tied down before his visits to the tower.”
“By your father’s personal guards?” The same who’d helped rape Maddek’s mother.
Yvenne nodded.
“We will kill them all,” he vowed softly.
A pleased smile curved her full mouth before she returned her attention to Danoh. “When Aezil was born, my mother bled an ocean of blood—and for many days afterward, she did not open her eyes. Even after she awakened, however, it was as if her mind was no longer there. She had to be fed and cleaned and dressed as a babe, and she never spoke or moved from her bed. Still my father tied her, for he feared it was a deception.
“When Bazir was born, she made no sound, but lay in silent labor until he emerged screaming from between her legs. When Cezan was born, it was the same. Her body labored but she made no sound of pain. Still my father had her tied. But one night, either the guards who secured the knots were careless, or the knots loosened while he rutted. And in the moment when my father spent his seed, when he was most unguarded, my mother grabbed hold of his hair and with her teeth ripped out his throat.”
Maddek gave an approving grunt and saw his enjoyment in this tale reflected on every other warrior’s expression—and Yvenne’s too. Her face was alight as she continued.