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“My Elena, are you okay?” I say, worried.
She blinks her long lashes lazily at me. “I’m good.”
“No, you are not! We must get help. Orvell is skilled with healing, he can—”
“Why do you need healing?”
“Oh, my Elena. It is not me that is hurt. It is you.”
Her eyes look down at her thighs, which are smeared with blood. It’s just a little, but still, it could mean she’s damaged greatly.
“That’s…normal…”
I exhale a sigh of relief. “I will never get used to your cycle blood.”
“No, that’s not it. When women have sex for the first time, they bleed a little. Just a tiny bit.”
I cock my head to the side, confused by the revelation.
“Just…hold me.” She bites her lower lip in a way that maddens me. “Please don’t tell me you think it’s weak that I want to be held.”
In Tempest, the woman would go to another male to be filled further and further, until she was spilling over, wanting the best chance at quickening her womb.
But Elena sees only me. And I, her. Nothing else matters when she’s in front of me. The world falls away. My people are distant. The whole of Tempest seems so minuscule.
If her wanting to be held makes her weak, then I must consider myself weak as well, because I want it just as badly.
For my feelings for Elena are bigger than I could have imagined, and stronger than any I have ever known.
21
ELENA
Calling a council meeting is something I’ll never get used to. That any smart, noble-blooded woman would even listen to me is still beyond my comprehension.
But Meg, Nori, and Araelya answer my call, following me to where Grixis has brought his men.
It’s a cave a little further inland, and I’m shocked to see that some of the stone has been worked into intricate carvings. Back on Penticar, we had such abilities to work stone, but this place seems too primitive for such embellishments, even with the men’s tools.
Very aware I can’t let my self doubt show, I hold my head high as I join the half-formed circle, the other women following my lead.
The men are chattering in harsh syllables. Words I can’t make out. Their ‘high speech’, as they call it.
“When the women are present, we talk lesser tongue,” Grixis says firmly.
Ramsey snorts. “Are they incapable of learning high speech?”
“You’ve seen their intelligence at play. Why make them learn something unnecessary when we can easily communicate with them?”
“If they must learn, let it be in time,” Eddard adds.
“Elena and I have called this meeting because, over the course of our interactions, we have learned that there are several differences between our cultures, and some could have led to dire situations.”
“What dire situations do you speak of?” Ulof asks.
I clear my throat to speak, remembering that I must sound unwavering. “First, there were the men who wanted to mercy kill some of my people for their woman’s blood. What made that worse was that you wouldn’t believe me. It was Ramsey that assuaged the situation.”
“Huh?” Meg’s mouth gapes in offense.
