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An eager anticipation flowed through Kyx’s veins. Soon he would be reunited with Arie, and never again would his triad be separated from their mate.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
Arie was dreaming. She was aware of that fact but didn’t want it to end. She wanted to pretend that she was there again with her mates, even if it meant living in her memories. It was the day after the Withering Days had concluded and she was stretched out on her belly, the soft fur beneath her tickling her skin. Warol lay beside her, two of his hands buried in her hair playing with the long lengths. She smiled sleepily up at him.
“Your hair is so beautiful,” he murmured, flicking the end of a lock across her cheek.
She laughed. “Are you sure the sight of it doesn’t make you feel a murderous rage?” Warol gave her an odd look and she laughed even harder. “Among humans it is believed that bright colors, but especially red, causes the Ragoru to attack.” She hooked her fingers into claws and made a ferocious face.
He shook his head in amusement. “Is that why you were hiding in your hood when we met?” She felt embarrassed. She’d assumed that her triad chose to ignore their instinctive impulses. “No, my beautiful Red Arie. Red may draw our attention, but not for any of those reasons. It is because we hold the color to be holy. It is the color of life. The first flowers of spring on our homeworld were the brightest red. We called it Mother’s Blood for the first blood of fertility and bearing new life. The rising and setting sun is red. We consider any red to be blessed. This is why, for the color of his fur, Kyx could have had his choice of triads he could have joined.”
She frowned. “Doesn’t that strike you as a bit… wrong? Rager is cast aside because of his pitch coloring, but Kyx is elevated for his reddish hue. That doesn’t seem fair.”
Warol smiled sadly. “It is not right—you are correct. Darkness is connected to the shades of the dead and many Ragoru fear it, but I always considered that too a blessing, depending on how you look at it. Red may be life and black is the world of the dead, but I do not curse my ancestors. I look to them for guidance and hope that my beloved family, who now walk as shades in the next world, are looking upon me with favor.”
She settled in closer to her mate. “I think that is a wonderful way to look at it.” She pulled back and narrowed her eyes playfully. “You don’t just love me for my hair, do you?”
He chuffed again and pulled her beneath him. “I would love you even if you had not a hair for your mane. Your form is already oddly bald. But if you need reminding of just how much I love you, maybe I need to show you and refresh your memory.”
They made love with the sound of the snow blowing outside the cave entrance. At some point, Rager and Kyx had woken up and gotten into the action, and the four of them were together, a mesh of bodies, their fur brushing against her bare skin. She never wanted it to end. She never wanted spring to come and bring the huntsmen to their hiding place.
Better to relive the sweet days of winter when they had each other.
Arie woke with the sunlight creeping into her room and tear tracks on her face. One hand instinctively went up to her head and felt the sharp stubble on her scalp even as her eyes adjusted to the morning light and her waking mind became aware once more of where she was. Spring had come with the huntsmen, Kyx was dead, and she was her grandmother’s pawn. Tears slid down her cheeks faster and she wept until her face was puffy, her nose blocked, and her throat raw.
After that, Arie had no sense of how much time had passed. Hours, she knew. She’d watched the morning rise and the sunlight shift through the bars as the sun traveled through the sky. She supposed it didn’t matter. She couldn’t ignore the ugly little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like the girls she’d grown up with. She thought she’d long ago banished it into oblivion, but it had returned and fed off her sorrow. It whispered with hateful, dulcet tones, laughing as it danced about merrily in her imagination.
No one would be coming for her. Kyx was dead, and Rager and Warol would forget about her. Maddi was likely dead as well. Even the babe growing in her womb was doomed before it was even born and would never be held in her arms. Her life was now one terrible march toward a future filled with pain, regret, and grief. The voice mocked her, asking her what else did she expect, having been cursed from birth?
Arie shook her head angrily, her fury rising like a wave, pushing the voice away. That was not her. She was not cursed. She’d known love and happiness, and nothing about the future was determined yet. Her mates were looking for her, needing her as much as she needed them. They would never give up, and she would never just lie down and submit.
No matter how long it took, no matter the outcome, she would never be less than a thorn pricking at those who thought to subdue her.
The lock on the door rattled and her grandmother stepped through, her sharp features and dark widow’s attire making her appear more like a raven, or perhaps a buzzard, as she glided across the room with dire purpose in her eyes. Lady Vera’s pupils were blown wide with an odd fervor, and fever-bright despite the shadows around her eyes that no amount of face paint could entirely hide. It seemed her grandmother was teetering at the edge of mental stability.
Arie cracked a wolfish smile, her dry lips splitting painfully. “My grandmother, what big eyes you have.”
“Do not start any foolishness with me,” Lady Vera snapped. “Soon I will be rid of you and have achieved everything I have ever wanted. I will be celebrated and honored in this Citadel rather than existing as a has-been widow forgotten by my peers. As if any of them would have been anything without me,” she sneered, her fingers clenching tightly on her cane. “Time to remind them exactly who I am. The Lady Anwar has arrived through me, and me alone. The Mother blessed me!”
Arie snorted. “And yet this blessing, your only daughter, ran away from you as soon as she got the opportunity. She did not bare her neck and submit to your plans. She joined with a commoner and hid from you on the other side of the great woods. You gain nothing if you have to chain me down to gain my cooperation to do your bidding. And you will see that I too will escape you when my moment has come and leave you exposed to the truth—that you are nothing. You have abused the gifts from the Mother by your own greed. You are a ravenous wolf hiding in women’s clothing.”
The end of her grandmother’s cane struck the floor with a sharp rap. “I was chosen to unite the will of the Mother and the Anwar family with the Order. It was my destiny!” Vera shouted with fury.
Arie’s laughter grew louder. “Wrong! The Mother has used you to destroy the Order!”
“Enough! I have had enough of this blasphemy!” Her grandmother shouted, drawing deep, gasping breaths. She glared at Arie hatefully but eventually managed to compose herself once more and smirked down at her. “I will not indulge your word games any longer. I am here for a reason, not to play games with you or bear your insults. The time has come for your joining. It is a proud moment for you and our family. One I hope you remember well for the rest of your life.”
She rapped her cane twice on the floor and the maids, who’d doubtlessly been waiting on the other side of the door for her signal, scrambled in with their arms laden. They carried pots of face paint, a fine crimson bridal dress, and armfuls of flowers. Arie glared at the dress and seethed. The world feared all things red, rejecting and casting out their own people for a color they considered unfortunate. Yet even the ugly superstition that rose with the coming of the Ragoru couldn’t outweigh the tradition of wearing the color of the Mother in the joining ceremony. Her grandmother noted the direction of her gaze and smiled.
“Amusing isn’t it, that today the color that has been a bane in your life will be one that ties you unequivocally with the Order. The color is a curse on us all, but on this one occasion the terrible hue is one of sanctity and blessings of the Mother.”
“People are foolish then if they speak at one moment that a color is sacred and that it is cursed in the next breath,” Arie replied.
Lady Vera shrugged as the maids brought bowls of steaming water scented with floral oils. Arie’s nightgown was stripped from her, and they began the arduous task of bathing the unwilling bride.
“The fourth seer of the Order was clear on the reason for it. That it offends the Mother for the color to be shown by any except on the holy days of joining. It is for this reason she makes it irresistible to the Ragoru and gives them leave to attack any who dare to wear red tresses or cloth.”
