She was sore for days.
The reasoning for her soreness was mortifying, even if it the memory made her hot. Xavier had taken mercy on her and has not tried to make love to her in that way for the last few weeks. In fact, his lovemaking had changed completely. It was like he was a different person, because he never demanded. Never exuded force. When they would have sex, it would be almost virginal. She couldn’t understand it.
That was not like Xavier.
But she couldn’t deny that she was grateful in part for the small respite, because she didn’t think she would ever be ready for him to take her like the animals do again. Between her pregnancy sickness, and sex-induced-sickness, she had severely lacked in her duties as lady chief. So when she was finally able to get out of bed without wincing with each step, she started her day. First, she checked on the horses and livestock, as well as met with Aggod, the village healer, to ask for some herbs that helped ease fatigue. She was delayed when she had to settle a civic dispute, and break up a fight between two brothers fighting over the same girl. Which settled when said girl offered herself up to them both.
At the same time.
She shook her head with a wry smile. Sometimes, she swore that she was living in the Siraces village—where that kind of union was more commonplace—instead of the Izayges. Upon reaching the market square, Leawyn made a point to visit every merchant. The tradition started when Namoriee had dragged her out here early into her marriage. She had told her how there hadn’t been a lady chief of the Izayges for a long time, and that her village people were desperate to know her, if not a bit untrusting.
She made it her mission after that to try and know every single one of the people inhabiting her large tribe and gain their trust individually.
She smiled at Tutor, the old clay maker and one of her favorite merchants to talk to.
“You’re looking well today, Tu. Your wife must be taking good care of you.”
Tutor, whose hair would have been white had he not shaved it all off, waved a hand that was wrinkled and hardworking at her.
“Bah!” he spat. “Old bat won’t leave me alone, she will.”
Said old bat, whacked him with a damp cloth, scowling down at him. “Ya don’t die!” Yinna exclaimed. “Drop dead and maybe I will, eh?”
Tutor glowered, looking every bit displeased and grouchy, but he couldn’t hide his fondness for Yinna if his life depended on it. She shook her head in amusement, placing payment in one of the clay pots crafted.
“Oh no yer don’t, Lady Chief!” Yinna yelled after her, trying scoop up her payment and catch up to her already walking form. “Ya always be placing payment without a purchase. I will not be having it!”
“Goodbye, you two. See you again in a week!” Leawyn laughed. She ignored as they tried to argue with her, but then ended up arguing with themselves. Yinna and Tutor had a good business. Clay pots and jugs were wildly important, but she knew that Tutor’s hands have started to ache him more than he could start to handle. She couldn’t stand the thought of him pushing through his joint pain more than he had to.
Xavier and Leawyn usually didn’t have to buy or want for anything. But she didn’t want to be the kind of lady chief that just took from her people, without giving anything back. Which is why she always made a point to pay for services that she didn’t render.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and before she could react, they lifted her up in a hug, squeezing her half to death.
“Beautiful! When are you going to leave your husband and come to me, eh?”
“Tyronian, welcome back!” Leawyn beamed once she was back on her feet, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand. “How was the Siraces?”
Tyronian, her only fellow tribesmen who shared her blonde hair, shrugged. “It was well. They weren’t attacked like we were so nothing much has changed upon their return.”
Leawyn made a sound of acknowledgement, studying him. It had been a few weeks since she had last seen him. Although he greeted her in the same cheeky way he always did, he looked troubled. His lips that were usually easily pulled back into a smile were downturned, and his eyes held a sadness that she didn’t like.
She rested her hand on his forearm, quietly requesting his attention. He was scanning the village-port, which was always the hubbub of activity in the Izayges.
“Why do you torture yourself so,” she asked quietly. “Why don’t you just claim her?”
Want flashed in his blue-orbs before they settled desolately. “I made a promise,” he answered quietly, almost to himself.
He stepped back from her with a fake smile. “It was good to see you cousin. You grow more beautiful as your baby does.”
Automatically, her hands rested on her stomach and the bump that her dress hid.
“Shh!” she hissed, scanning their surroundings to make sure no one heard him. Xavier and she weren’t ready for the tribe to know yet. Well, she thought. At least I’m not.
Something that made Xavier very displeased. He had wanted to announce her pregnancy as soon as he recovered.
Tyronian laughed, walking backwards. “Until we meet again, beautiful.” And with a wink, he was gone.
She shook her head, turning around to finish her shopping, when a flash of movement across the way caught her eye. She stared, trying to convince herself that the person she was seeing wasn’t there.
It wasn’t possible, it shouldn’t be.
Because that person was dead.
She stumbled backward, her heart beating so forcefully, she was having difficulty drawing breath. She stared as blood started to stain the shirt her ghost was wearing, trickling in a spiral and expanding.
“You’re not real,” she whispered in horror. She clenched her eyes shut when the figure started to walk towards her. “You’re not real!”
She opened her eyes and jerked when they collided with the ones that used to be alive. They were standing face to face.
“Lea.”
She whimpered. She felt something on her palms, and when she looked down at them, they were covered in red.
Blood.
She screamed.
If Xavier had the ability to wonder anything passed his concern right now, it would be how the boy Castic always seemed to be the one to collect him when there was trouble. How the boy seemed to always be in the right place at the right time was boggling to him. He supposed that he should be thankful. After all, if it wasn’t for him practically barreling into him, panting and panicking, he wouldn’t have known where to find his wife who seemed to be having breakdown in the middle of market square.
His villagers gave him a wide-berth as he made his way through, their gazes concerned and locked on Leawyn, who had curled into herself, rocking back and forth. He hesitated, caught off guard by the sight. He pushed forward until he was crouched in front of her.
“Leawyn?”
It was as if she didn’t hear him. He moved the hair away from her face, his brows drawing together at the vacant glaze to her blue irises.
“What happened?” he barked at no one in particular. But of course, Castic was the only one brave enough to step forward.
“She just started screaming, Chief. I was helping my momma and I thought she was going to ask me to come over because she was looking right at me.” Xavier followed the direction to which Castic was pointing, noticing the fabric merchant stand that his mother, Jsaya, ran. Once Leawyn learned that Jsaya was Castic’s mother, she made a point to always purchase fabrics from her. He turned back to Castic.
“Then what happened? Did she say anything?”
Castic shook his head, looking distressed. “I went to her, I tried to ask. But she just kept screaming. Said blood was on her hands, but I didn’t see a cut.”
Xavier shook his head. Blame laid heavy on his shoulders. He was about to scoop her up in his arms when their eyes locked. It stopped him cold.
There’s only two instances that can put that kind of void in someone’s eyes. And Leawyn was two for two.
“Help me.”
The whisper was pure hopelessness.
He stood up with her in his arms, cradling her close. She ignored everyone standing watch by turning her face toward his chest, and his gaze alone warned of them of what should happen if he were to hear any whispers about her behind their back about this. He began his march back to their hut, and when the sky split open with thunder, and the rain drove down from above, he thought it was fitting.
Because he was done giving Leawyn time to entrust him with her secrets. To do it her way. He was going to be getting the answers he sought.
Even if he had to follow her into the dark and drag her out of it kicking and screaming.