When Namoriee woke, Tyronian was not in bed with her. Sitting up, she winced slightly at the twinge of pain it caused her. Her face reddened when she recalled last night. She looked down at herself, eying her nakedness. She was no longer a maiden, her innocence taken from her.
Did she look different?
Namoriee studied her body. Her breasts were still the same color, small and unimpressive. Her legs were still the same length, and though her inner thighs had a light smattering of bruises from where Tyronian had gripped them, they, too, looked the same.
Namoriee reached down and touched herself lightly. Her mound was overly sensitive; even the slightest of pressure caused discomfort. She brought her hand up, studying the slim digits. Her nails were long, curved and uneven, but they were the same nails that had raked down Tyronian’s back in the bouts of pain, and then pleasure. She pondered last night.
By all accounts, the experience was nerve-racking and uncomfortable. She had been terrified when Tyronian came into the hut, and even more so when he started to undress her. It had hurt, a lot, when he entered her, just like he said it would. But then it had felt . . . well, she couldn’t say good because she still felt pain throughout the whole thing, but it had morphed so that the pain mixed with pleasure. She was warned that she would not climax the first time he lay with her, that she would be lucky to climax at all.
Yet . . .
He was fierce, determined, and gentle with her. He took his time. Namoriee frowned. Why?
Why was he so delicate with her? She had heard the stories from many women of their wedding night. Of how their husbands had bedded them after the ceremony mercilessly and ruthlessly. Leawyn herself said that her experience was horrific.
She didn’t deserve his gentleness, and she didn’t deserve to have him as a husband. She was nothing.
Worthless.
She was a slave, and she ruined his chances of chieftainship by marrying him. Bile rose in her throat as swiftly as her self-loathing. She made a promise to herself, right then and there, that regardless of what Tyronian felt, she would never allow herself to feel the same.
Tyronian was summoned to the northern borders of their land for an unseen amount of time. The Izayges had promising land, and it wasn’t unusual that their warriors occasionally had territory battles with those wishing to claim it for their own. Normally, Xavier would be the one to lead the charge, but since Leawyn’s pregnancy, he had stepped back to ensure he was there for her. Now, he reserved that duty for Tyronian.
Knowing that Tyronian was close to danger incited conflicted emotions from Namoriee. She didn’t want to be married to him, and if he were to be slain, it would free her of her marital bonds. It should be a good thing . . . so why did the thought of never seeing him again make her want to cry?
Namoriee shook her unsavory thoughts away and instead got ready for the day. Just because she was married to Tyronian now didn’t excuse her from her duties to Leawyn.
Moments later, she was knocking on Leawyn and Xavier’s door. After walking in on Xavier and Leawyn in a compromising position, which involved Leawyn on the desk and her legs thrown over Xavier’s forearms and—needless to say, she learned to knock first.
“She’s not there.”
She turned at the voice to be met with Tristan’s impassive face. He nodded in the general direction of where the pastures were.
“She’s with the horses.”
He didn’t elaborate any further, leaving Namoriee watching his back as he walked away and disappeared into the crowd of villagers.
Tristan still freaked her out.
He always seemed to appear and disappear from midair. She shook her head, pushing the encounter out of her mind, and headed down to the fields.
“How come you didn’t wait for me?”
Leawyn turned her attention away from the round pen, where Xavier was working with the solid black yearling, and shot her a look of surprise. “Why would I?”
“Because I’m your handmaiden, and it’s my job to help you?” Namoriee replied slowly.
“Namoriee, you’re married now. To my cousin at that! That makes you my cousin,” Leawyn beamed. “You don’t need to be my handmaiden anymore.”
She froze, hearing her words but not fully able to process them due to the ringing in her ears.
Not her handmaiden anymore?
Abruptly, she was robbed of breath; she gasped, doubling over. It felt like the air was sucked straight out of her lungs.
“Namoriee?” Leawyn frowned. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Namoriee!” Leawyn yelped, grasping her arm when her legs gave out.
Her breaths were coming out ragged, and she clawed at Leawyn in fear as she was lowered down.
“She’s having a panic bout,” Xavier said calmly from above her. She didn’t realize he had come over.
“Breathe, Namoriee,” Leawyn encouraged, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Calm down, and breathe.” She copied Leawyn, and gradually her heart rate slowed down until she could inhale oxygen more easily.
She burst into tears.
“Namoriee,” Leawyn said softly, brows creasing in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything is changing,” Namoriee sobbed. “My life is moving too fast, and I can’t keep up.”
She heard Leawyn sigh before she felt her lady chief’s arms wrap around her in a hug.
“Is this about your marriage to Tyronian?”
“It’s everything!” Namoriee wailed despondently. “My marriage to Tyronian, my living arrangement, the fact that I’m expected to carry his heir, and now I find out I can’t be your handmaiden!” She looked up at Leawyn, meeting her blue eyes. “My life might not have been glamourous, but I had purpose. I liked being your handmaiden. I can’t . . . I can’t h-h-handle any more changes.”
“Oh, Namoriee,” Leawyn whispered compassionately. “I understand how you feel, I’ve been there.” Namoriee took a shuddering breath, wiping her cheeks.
“Tyronian is a mighty warrior, and a good man. He cares about you, and I know he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you.” Leawyn’s gaze turned firm. “He deserves a chance to prove that to you.”
Namoriee’s eyes glittered, guilt flooding her. “I know that, it’s just . . .” She trailed off, turning away.
She couldn’t explain it. Everything Leawyn said was true, and Namoriee knew that he cared about her, but she couldn’t help the feeling of fear every time she thought about him. Or the resentment. She deserved the chance to make the decision to marry him because she wanted it. He took her choice away, and that was difficult for her to look past.
Even if her heart yearned for his affection as much as she dreaded it.
“You don’t need to explain it to me.”
Leawyn’s gaze told her that she understood where she was coming from more than anyone else possibly could. She followed her gaze to Xavier, who must have gone back to the pen sometime during her episode. Leawyn’s look turned soft, reflecting the love that Namoriee would never understand.
“All I ask is that you try to look past the feeling you think you should have, and search for the ones that you already do have. Those are the ones that matter.”
Leawyn stood, offering her hand to help Namoriee up. Her dear friend smoothed back a piece of her hair before cupping her cheek.
“If you truly wish to continue with your duties, I won’t refute. But you aren’t my handmaiden. You are simply my cousin, whom I spend time with throughout the day. Okay?”
Namoriee sighed in relief, a weight lifting off her chest. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. Leawyn waved her off.
“I love you, Namoriee. You were never just a handmaiden to me.”
Namoriee looked around, wanting to change the subject now that the panic she felt had subsided and embarrassment was taking its place. “Where’s Xillik?” she asked when she couldn’t find him.
Namoriee’s eyes followed the direction Leawyn pointed to. Xillik was in a different pen with Deydrey, who didn’t seem at all bothered by the toddler who was trying to catch her tail as it swished back and forth.
“I promised him a ride after Xavier was done with Knox, though from the looks of it, it may be awhile,” Leawyn said in amusement. They both turned their attention to Xavier.
Knox was the yearling that was the product of Leawyn’s mare, Deydrey, and Xavier’s great war horse, Killix, who was notorious for his stubborn and wild personality.
“How’s the training going?”
She watched as Knox pounced around proudly in a fast circle, head held high and defiant against the long rope attached to his halter that Xavier held as he rode him.
Suddenly, Knox stopped, attempting to throw Xavier off as he hopped sideways before rearing. Xavier was quick to respond, yanking Knox’s rope to the side, forcing his nose towards his hindquarters.
“Not well, apparently,” Leawyn said dryly once Xavier gained control of Knox.
Namoriee grinned. “He’s so much like Killix already. I’m sure Xavier is happy.”
“I don’t think there will ever be a greater horse than Killix,” Leawyn whispered. “But I am happy to know his son. I know only the best warrior would be reincarnated inside Knox.”
Leawyn was talking about the legend of Saviero and Ianna. It was the Samaritan’s belief that once a great warrior died, they were then reincarnated into a horse. Their history told of a great warrior named Saviero and Ianna, the goddess that had cursed him to roam the land as a horse when he had broken his promise and fallen in love with another. Saviero died when a terrible foe had tried to kill the woman he loved. Ianna was so moved by his sacrifice that she turned him back into a man and promised that any warrior who showed the same heart would be reborn as a steed to serve another great warrior.
“Momma! Look!”
Leawyn looked over at Xillik, her smile dying when she saw what he was about to do. He had gotten bored of Deydrey and had migrated to where they kept the weanlings. One of which he was reaching out to pet.
“Xillik, no!”
Too late.
Namoriee opened the door to the healer’s hut so that Leawyn could walk through first. The familiar scent of herbs, ointments, and sage greeted her senses. She had spent many of her days here in this hut since she had been the healer’s assistant before she became Leawyn’s handmaiden.
“Aggod?” Leawyn’s worried tone had Namoriee’s attention, and she frowned at how pale the old healer was.
“Aggod, are you well?” Namoriee rushed over to her when she went to stand from her bed and wavered. Though Aggod was as stern as a thorn and didn’t always treat her the best, she was all Namoriee had for a while; it worried her to see how ill the healer looked.
“I’m fine,” Aggod wheezed, batting away Namoriee’s hand with a glower when she went to feel her forehead. “Stop yer stressing, idiot girl. I’m fine!”
Her response would have been more reassuring if she hadn’t broken out into a coughing fit after.
“You feel warm,” Namoriee said, ignoring Aggod’s attempt to escape her. “How long have you been like this?”
“I said I’m fine! Now let me up. Can’t you see I have a patient?” Aggod grouched, and she started to stand up.
“You aren’t!” Namoriee scowled and pushed her back down. She matched the healer’s glare with one of her own. “How many times have you told me that a fever, no matter how mild, is dangerous? You’re going to rest, even if I have to stay here and tie you down.”
“Now listen here, girl, I don’t take orders—” Aggod started to cough violently, her withered body meandering to the side from the force. The cup of water Namoriee handed her noticeably wobbled when Aggod brought it to her lips.
Namoriee and Leawyn shared a concerned look with each other.
“Please Aggod, rest. I’m worried for you.”
Aggod looked over at her, and Namoriee’s expression must have convinced her. “Fine,” she said begrudgingly. “But as the head healer, I’m telling you I’m fine.”
“I’m sure.” Namoriee smiled, helping Aggod get comfortable as she lay down. The healer let out a tired sigh, and it only took a few moments for her to fall asleep. Namoriee stood, walking over to Leawyn.
“I don’t like how sickly she looks,” Leawyn whispered, concerned.
Namoriee looked over at Aggod, noticing how uneasy her breathing was. She felt the same worry as Leawyn. Aggod had been the Izayges healer for many years, her age second to the village elder, who was a remarkable seventy winters. If something were to happen to her . . .
“I’m going to stay with her,” Namoriee decided, looking back to Leawyn. “She’s a stubborn old bat, and an even worse patient.”
Leawyn smiled. “I’m sure that will be wise.” Her smile dimmed slightly, and she shot a look at Namoriee that made her feel nervous. “What about Tyronian?”
Namoriee looked away. “There’s no telling when he’ll be back. Besides,” Namoriee said, turning back to Leawyn, “I doubt he’ll care. I can look after Xillik. I know that’s why you came in here,” she said, gesturing to Leawyn’s son. “Though, I think he’s fine, minus a nasty bruise.”
They hadn’t managed to stop Xillik in time, and as a result, he had been bitten on the arm. Luckily, Kitchu hadn’t put much pressure into the bite, but it still terrified Xillik.
Leawyn gave Namoriee a look that ensured her that she knew she was purposefully diverting her attention, but a mother’s worry was too great of a distraction. Leawyn’s expression softened when she looked down at her son, brushing the wisps of blond curls away from his forehead.
“I overreacted, I know,” Leawyn said, watching as Xillik blinked sleepily. He looked moments away from a nap. “Did you know my father never taught me how to ride?”
Namoriee’s eyes bulged in surprise. “What?” she choked. “But how? I mean, you ride so well. How is it possible if you never . . .”
Leawyn grinned at her spluttering. “I found Deydrey on the beach when I was a child,” Leawyn explained. “Her leg was fractured, I think. She’d been abandoned by her herd and left to die, but I found her. Asten, he . . . he wanted to kill her. Said the best thing to do for her was put her out of her misery.” Leawyn smiled softly, her eyes lost in the memory. “I begged him not to. I told him that if he were to kill her, it would be as if he were taking my life, too. He never liked to see me cry, so . . .” Leawyn’s smile dimmed, and her eyes flared with pain.
“He helped me train her. Taught me everything he knew. She hasn’t left my side since,” she finished quietly.
Leawyn stared off in the distance sorrowfully but was brought out of her trance when Namoriee gripped her hand in comfort.
“Sorry.” Leawyn wiped away her tears, embarrassed.
“He was different then, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Leawyn replied, voice hollow. “He was.”
“Would you . . . would you like to tell me some stories about him?” Namoriee asked tentatively.
Leawyn looked down to Xillik, who had fallen asleep sometime during their exchange, before meeting her eyes again, hesitant.
“I would like to know,” Namoriee admitted. “I only know one part of him. It would be nice to know the other, too. More than that, I think you need this, my lady. So, please.” She turned, sitting down on the chair by the fire, gesturing for Leawyn to do the same. “How did you get Deydrey to safety if her leg was hurt?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Leawyn chuckled quietly, rearranging Xillik once she sat down. “First, we had to figure out where to put her . . .”
“Do you know where your wife is right now?”
Tyronian’s brow rose. He had just returned after successfully driving back the wanderers who had tried to encroach on their land. He was tired, hungry, and just about to sit down for the evening meal, but before he could even think about sliding into his seat, Leawyn was there, hands on her hips and a glare of death on her face.
“What—”
“Why does she seem to think that you wouldn’t care where she’s at?” Leawyn interrupted him.
Huh? Tyronian thought. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Leawyn, I—”
“What did you do? Because I swear to all the gods and the goddess, I will cut you if you hurt her!” Leawyn once again interrupted him before he could get a word in. Tyronian’s brows rose higher at the threat.
Was it just him, or did Leawyn seem particularly more violent with this pregnancy?
“When I told you to break her heart, I didn’t mean as soon as you wed!”
At this point, Tyronian was beyond exasperated. “Leawyn!” he yelled, cutting her off mid-rant and gaining the attention of everyone in the hall, including Xavier. “What are you talking about?” he asked when she finally quieted.
“What’s going on here?” Xavier came up behind Leawyn, leveling Tyronian with a dark look over her shoulder. Leawyn leaned back against Xavier’s chest, welcoming his embrace when he wrapped his arm around her waist. The move was both protective and possessive.
Tyronian almost rolled his eyes. He would never hurt Leawyn, and Xavier knew it. But that didn’t stop his chief’s crazy tendencies when it came to his wife. Bastard still growled whenever he thought a man was looking at her longer than what he felt was appropriate. Which, unfortunately for him (or maybe unfortunately for them?), was often. Leawyn was a beauty, and people noticed regardless. Tyronian was surprised Xavier hadn’t locked her in their hut forever.
Oh wait, he’d tried that once. It didn’t work. Now he just stuck to growling and stabbing and killing.
Tyronian shook his head. He needed to get back on topic.
“I’ve had to send Castic to deliver Namoriee’s meals the past few days because she seems to think that you wouldn’t notice, or care, that she plans to stay with Aggod until she’s well.”
“What happened to Aggod?” Xavier asked.
“Quiet, Xavier. The adult is talking right now,” Leawyn shushed. Xavier scowled.
Tyronian didn’t miss the insult she’d aimed at him, either. He sighed and rubbed his temples where a headache was rapidly forming. Leawyn’s pregnancy mood swings were driving him crazy. He couldn’t wait until she popped the kid out.
The sudden silence made Tyronian realize he’d said that aloud. He winced at the dangerous look he was receiving from both of his cousins.
“Get your ass over to Aggod’s hut and fix whatever you did, or else you’ll really see what pregnancy mood swings can do to you,” Leawyn growled, jabbing an angry finger in the direction of the hall entrance. His eyes widened at the threat.
“Leawyn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“GO!”
And like a puppy with his tail between his legs, he did.
The only time Aggod stayed awake for long was when Namoriee woke her to feed her. It worried Namoriee greatly, but she held on to the hope that the deep sleep was Aggod’s body trying to heal itself. She had just finished setting up her makeshift sleeping space on the floor when the hut’s door opened. It was probably Leawyn checking up on her again.
“I’m fine. I was just about to settle in,” she called over her shoulder.
“Avoiding me again, wife?”
Namoriee whirled around with a gasp.