Twenty-two
She didn’t have anything to go on except that pull in her chest. There was some semblance of a road here, but last night’s snow had wiped out any footprints Ki’san might have made.
E’lar hadn’t seen his love since Ki’san was a baby—the crystal would hold him there for untold minutes, transfixed by So’yana’s image. Still, even with that irresistible tug drawing her along, Tara felt ashamed at having lured the clanfather away with it.
He’d have trouble tearing himself away from the image of his lifemate. He would also need some time to compose himself. He would arrive downstairs to the dining hall to find the guards already talking to their clanbrothers about a search party. There would be the initial confusion, and then E’lar would notice she wasn’t among them. He had vowed to put the crystal in her hands before he left. They would search the clanhall and the courtyard for her, worrying that she had perhaps taken a wrong turn or had some mishap . . .
Even with their speed it would take them time to organize, to figure out she’d gone into the mountains, to come after her.
Tara pulled the hood of her blue cloak up, holding the edges together. The g’hir had gloves but she didn’t have a pair, and only the fur lining of the cloak was keeping her hands warm.
Her breath showed as she trotted along the path, the drifts making it difficult to keep any great speed. The tree limbs hung heavy with snow, and the eerie silence of the alien woods engulfed her. The hills and craggy mountains meant the clanhall had long since fallen away from her sight. If Ki’san’s clanbrothers were following her into this wilderness, she had no sign of it—yet.
She hadn’t wanted to stop their search, only join it. She’d welcome the g’hir’s far more acute senses, their strength and speed. But E’lar wouldn’t endanger their enclosure’s new human clanmother. If those clanbrothers had already set out, it wouldn’t be long before they caught up to her. Once they did, E’lar would have her escorted back the clanhall.
She couldn’t let that happen.
In that spirit’s gaze was the warning that Tara was the only one now who could find Ki’san. Following the instinct guiding her along was the only way she’d do it.
A shadow off to her right, caught just at the corner of her eye, made her stumble. She slid to a stop, skidding on the ice, her gaze darting about the frozen forest.
Oh. She turned away, recognizing her childhood companion. You again.
Tara continued on, clutching the inside of the cloak, lifting it out of the way as the path’s incline steepened. Death trailed after, patient and steady as he had always been during his visits, untroubled by the cold or the rough alien terrain.
Yeah, I knew you hadn’t gone far. She glanced at her shadowy companion. Even when they did cure me. Since the moment on his ship when Ki’san found a way to keep me alive a little longer I’ve been on borrowed time, haven’t I?
The shadow offered a non-committal shrug, never one to take a hint that he wasn’t welcome.
She reached the top of the hill, angling her body and her feet to descend.
Sorry. If you want me, you’ll fucking well wait until I’ve found Ki’san.
He knew better than to disagree with her, that twilight fellow. They’d never had an argument she hadn’t won, and this time she wasn’t even giving him an opportunity to talk.
Tara alternated between protecting her hands by hiding them in the fur-lined cloak and protecting her face by holding the cloak closed. She’d left the clanhall without eating breakfast, she carried neither food nor supplies, and even Death shook his head at her impulse to hold some snow in her mouth to quench her thirst.
Snowflakes floated down. Soon they would obscure her own tracks, making it impossible for her to retrace her steps, less likely for the clanbrothers to find her—if that pull was taking her in the right direction. The A’rahan knew the location of their sacred cave; she could scarcely make it from eveningwear to the shoe salon at Bergdorf Goodman.
The path narrowed, far more trail now than road.
Anybody sensible would turn back right now and hope like hell to run into the rescue party.
But who’s got time to be sensible?
She stopped, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. To her left, far below was the lake, its azure water placid. To the right soared the tree covered mountains, their curve dotted with craggy outcroppings.
Any one of them could hold the A’rahan’s sacred cave. The instinct was taking her that way.
But her boot sank knee-deep into the snow when she tried stepping off the trail. Quickly she pulled back, tapping that boot against the other to shake the snow off. Some of the drifts here could be deep enough to bury her to her waist.
But there were rocks, bits of gray standing out from the side of the mountain. If she stuck to those, the way up would be a whole lot more sure-footed.
One of the suns—the older Brother—had reached his zenith by the time she reached the higher pass. It curved around the mountain, and while it didn’t get her to the level of those outcroppings, it got her closer.
He’d followed along, of course, his form flitting between the snow-weighted branches, edging a little closer with every step she took along that icy path.
Tara stopped short, her heart hammering. That wasn’t her old friend moving about.
There’s something else here . . .
She pushed her hood back, her glance darting about the woods. Her quick breath showed in great puffs, the cold stinging her cheeks as she pivoted.
Snow and ice and silence.
Tara screamed as the snowbank to her right exploded outward, a shadow flying at her in an icy burst.
She threw her arms up to protect her face as the thing charged. She backpedaled, losing her footing on the path. She tripped, landing in a soft snow drift. The snow creature’s roar shook the trees, already on her—
“You,” he pressed a hot kiss to her mouth, “have just been captured.”
“K-Ki’san?”
He sat back on his heels, his brow creased, his brilliant gold gaze searching her face. “I never intended to frighten you. I made enough noise to wake a hibernating santh.” He shook the snow from his dark hair. “Did you not see me?”
“No. Human, remember?” Tara pushed up to sitting, heart still at a gallop. “But you’re all right! I thought—” She stared. “What happened to your face?”
“To become a physician is mentally challenging.” Ki’san flinched when she touched his cheek. “To become a warrior apparently involves being hit.”
“By who?”
“By what.” He caught her hand to press a kiss to her palm. “Ruga are ill-tempered on the fairest day, far more in winter. They particularly do not like to be disturbed while napping.”
“I thought you were hurt. I thought you were dying.”
“Clearly the All Mother would not have me by her hearth just yet.”
“But . . . what happened?”
“I escaped the beast.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “I would not be here if I had not.”
“I mean at the cave!” She shifted on her fur lined cloak. “What happened at the cavern?”
“I spent the night looking out at the Sisters, waiting to hear the voice of the All Mother, begging Her to set me upon a warrior’s path.”
“Did She?”
He grinned. “I just hunted a mate, did I not?”
“But . . . Are you sure? You said she put it in your heart to be a healer.”
“She did set me upon a healer’s path—to bring me to you. She brought me home to make me a warrior. She calls to me now to be both healer and warrior. Tara—” He sat back on his heels, his puzzled gaze swept the woods. “Where are the clanbrothers who should be guarding you?”
“Probably back at the clanhall.”
“You have been wandering the woods alone?”
“No, he’s . . .”
She glanced at the woods but her shadowy companion had vanished. Had he come to take her or tagged along to protect her? Her mind jumped back to all the other times she’d seen him, raged at him, cursed at him. Maybe he’d come then to safeguard her too.
Well, great, now I feel like a total bitch. . .
“Yup,” she gave a nod. “All alone.”
“These lands are dangerous in winter! I bid my father to protect you until my return.” He scowled. “I will have words with him when we return.”
“Yeah, he might have a couple words of his own when we get back. I sort of distracted him. Then I took off.”
“Into the forest, alone, in winter?” Ki’san was appalled. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“I saw . . .” She gave a helpless shrug. “A ghost.”
“And you ran from it?”
“Actually I took directions from it. I mean, her. Your mother. I was up all night, waiting for you, and she was there, looking out at the mountains with me. She looked at me and—and somehow . . . she told me you needed me.”
“Then her spirit spoke true to you.” His bright gaze softened. “For I do and always shall.” He held something light blue up between his fingers. “For you.”
“I’m not really—”
He held it to her mouth, his luminous gaze expectant.
Sighing inwardly, she let him feed her, chewing and swallowing.
“Uh,” she hedged the next he held up another for her. “What are these again?”
“Winterberries.”
He looked so happy at popping the next in her mouth that she tried hard not to make a face as she chewed the tart fruit.
“It is not turtle pie,” he agreed with a chuckle. “If you prefer I will return to the ruga’s lair, hunt it and bring you meat of it. I should have it ready and roasted in a few hours.”
“Let’s stick with the winterberries.”
“I think two will suffice. Water?”
“Please.”
“Captured, food and drink taken from my hand.” His nod had no small bit of triumph. “By these rituals, you have accepted my protection.”
“Two berries and some melted snow. What can I say? I’m a cheap date.”
“I wanted to make my claim quickly. Unfortunately, at this time of year, in the mountains there is not much both edible and quick from which to choose.”
“Well, you did make those fantastic meals back at Heatherbell, so let’s just call it even.”
“I will prepare you a proper meal, with the other berries cooked and sweetened, when we reach home.”
“Can I get up now? My butt’s getting cold.”
“We must return to the clanhall swiftly.” He grinned. “So that I may help warm it up.”
“So we’re officially lifemates now?” she asked as he helped her up. “Weren’t we already?”
“To fully honor tradition,” his gold eyes sparkled, “we will have to join.”
“Well who am I”—she put her arms around his waist. He was warm even now—“to argue with tradition?”
“And it is the time of the gathering. We must say our vows now that the enclosure is gathered to witness.”
Tara blinked. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
“I did not just ask you. I pledged my heart to you under the stars of your world. Now,” he rumbled, bending to kiss her. “Allow me to pledge my life to you under the stars of mine. . .”