But then he ruins his uncharacteristic soberness by kneeling at my feet.
His voice rings out. “My beloved’s womb will bring me life; I worship at her garden.”
I remember the poem now, it's one of the long ones we pass down through generations. He reaches inside his vest and brings out a small brown square package. I already know what it is. Seeds.
A Uthilsen traditional courtship gift, though they all are. Rathhur is saying with this packet of seeds that he'll be with no other, no matter the circumstances, for the rest of his life. That his children will be mine or no one’s.
“Steady,” Hatthar whispers, smiling at me. He holds out the packet, and I take it slowly.
“I can’t accept my beloved's gifts, until he fulfills his oath,” I say. “But on the day he does, and not one day sooner, I will blood him as mine.”
He rises, then bends down and kisses me on the cheek. “I'm glad you're home, Ky’a.”
Once I blink the tears out of my eyes I turn my head, searching for Rath. When I find him standing just beyond the edge of the bonfire, his arms crossed over his chest, our gazes meet. He gives me a slow half smile, the look on his face gentle.
I start to return the smile, but he straightens abruptly, scowling, and a moment later my sightline is cut off as a male steps in front of me.
NINE
“You werebold to come back, girl.”
Leick has aged, and he’s only second gen, the first generation born to the original crash survivors—who are still walking around because Immortals.
There’re crinkles at the corners of his eyes, eyes that stare at me as if the hostile meanness in his soul is now his sole personality trait. His braids are scruffy, meaning his wife hasn’t tended to his hair in some time. No one looking at him right now has any love in their eyes.
Next to me, Iloni is rigid. I don’t respond; it’s not my place. I told Rathhur what my requirements are.
“You answer when I speak to you, girl.”
“You didn't ask a question, or make a statement that requires a response,” Iloni says.
“You'll pay for disrespecting your Mother,” he snorts at his daughter.
Iloni gives him her bored look. “No, I won't. It's female’s circle business, and you'll stay out of it unless you want the circle to respond.”
His expression darkens. If he has an ounce of sanity left, he won't escalatethatline of discussion. No one messes with a female’s circle, even a fractured one.
Uthilsen females turn savage in a second. And what do we call a group of savage Orc females?
An annihilation.
Leick scowls at Iloni, then shifts his attention back to me. Smart. “You go on, now. You're not welcome in my clan. If not gone by morning, you’re meat.”
At those words all talking stops. I stare at Leick, unsurprised despite the shock on faces around us. That kind of threat. . .it's just not done. Ever. Even with a non-clan female. Bullying and harassment, ordering Rath to make my life hell in secret and influencing the clan to shun me are all one thing—though in a healthy clan that never would have happened either—but threatening me with mass assault?
He's gone too far.
From the way his expression twists, he knows he crossed the line.
Iloni stands. “Da, I'll give you one more chance to retreat and let the female’s circle handle Harry’s daughter.”
My judgment must be slipping, because I think he's about to retreat but instead he backhands her.
There's a collective feminine snarl, and several of the females begin to approach. Iloni absorbs the blow, blotting the blood at her split lip.
“Well, you did it now, you old troll. And don't blame Ky’a either.”
“You’ll answer for your behavior, Leick,” an older female calls out, her voice firm. “Iloni’s well within her rights to?—”
