Pulling only slightly away from Kane, I leaned toward her and whispered, “Is he a danger?”
She shook her head no.
“Will it be a bad thing for you, emotionally, to have him along?” I asked.
She shrugged slightly.
“You love him.” I felt the irony in me asking the very accusatory question she did Kane just recently.
She nodded yes.
“He loves you, too.” Her eyes went wide, not having left him the whole time.
I squeezed her hand. “I still need you.”
This statement broke her of her tortured gaze. She blinked and looked me, her jaw a little slack. “I’m so sorry. Yes. Of course.”
I smiled weakly. “Will you tell me when there’s not so many ears?”
She let her eyes wander back to him and smiled. “Yes.” When he looked her way, she blushed, her eyes going wide, and went back into the carriage, leaving the door open for me.
Kane pulled his shirt off and turned it inside out. Wiping my cheek, he grinned. “Once we are far enough away, we will stop somewhere safe and clean up more.” He used the torn fabric to attempt to clean off as much of the blood as he could.
“Thank you.” I tried to tuck my hair back that fell into my face.
Turning to the others, Kane switched to his commanding tone. “Unless there are any further delays, we are leaving.” He went to the back of the carriage, he opened a trunk that was strapped there, pulling out a fresh shirt and slipping it on.
Wulfgar came around him on his horse. “Are you sure it is wise to bring along the Emalne after all of this, especially with Dorian already being uneasy?”
“What I think is,” Kane pulled out another flask and closed the trunk, taking a long pull from it, drinking deeply, “the more allies we have, the safer it is for her.” His eyes came to rest on me.
“Are we sure they are allies?” Wulfgar questioned.
I nodded, prompting Kane to do the same. “Yes.”
Chapter
Fourteen
Picking Up Strays
The sky was dark and starlight shone above us as we pulled away from Thillatheas. It would have been quiet if not for the sounds of more than twenty horses and the wheels of the carriage that echoed off the trees that lined the old, dirt road.
My heart barely found an easy rhythm, but as we got further away from the village that had brought so much violence, I finally started to breathe easier.
I scooted over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Watching Kane as he spoke to Aeden, Lochlin and Wulfgar, I relaxed. All of them had put away their weapons and rode in stride.
I felt a hand on my shoulder which made me jump. “Indrell!”
She laughed. “Well yes. Who else?”
Embarrassed, I leaned back, letting the curtain fall back into place. “Of course. Sorry. I guess I’m just jumpy.”
It was her turn to stare out the window, wistfully. “I would not imagine anything less.”
Hearing the distance in her voice, I tilted my head. “Are you going to tell me?” Besides, the distraction of the conversation would be welcome.
Momentarily stunned, Indrell sat up before realization hit her. “Oh. Aeden?”
“Yes. Is he married? Are you? Do you have feuding families? Why are you two not together?” I leaned forward, propping myself up on my knees.
“No. None of that.” Indrell dropped her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap.
There was a sadness in her reaction that seeped into me. “Have you been too shy to tell each other?”
“No.” Her reply came out quickly.
“Then why are you not together?” I reached forward and took her hands in mine.
She squeezed my fingers. “We have not been blessed.”
A single tear fell down her cheek. I looked for a tissue or something to give to her, my heart broke as the floor of her sadness rushed into me. “Not blessed?”
She pulled her hands away and leaned back. “In my culture, the Emalne people do have a marriage ceremony for those in love. But those in love are not permitted to be bound by it until they are blessed by the god of nature, Ianoth.” She made a gesture with her hand, waving it over a cluster of the markings on her arm and then made a pulling motion before lifting her fingers just below her lips and blowing gently across them.
“Was that a prayer?” I asked.
“Sort of,” she replied. “It is my villages way of telling Ianoth we worship them. Our markings whither and fade when we die. The action represents that we would give our essence to them if they so wanted.”
“It was beautiful.” I replayed the movements in my mind, wanting to remember the simplicity of her faith. “But how does Ianoth bless someone? How do you know?”
For a fleeting moment, the corners of Indrell’s mouth curved up before disappearing back into the heartache that was written in her features. “When two Emalne are in love, they pray on their own to Ianoth. If they approve of the union, both Emalne receive an identical mark on the center of their wrists. A unique mark that combines the essence of the two, symbolizing their union. Then, the village does the ceremony, and they are bound.”
“And you have not received your marks,” I state as I watch her rub the area on the back of her flawless wrist.
“I have not prayed.”
I shot up. “What? Why? Does he know?”
“Aeden is the most incredible men I have ever met. We met on the road between my village and Thillatheas while I was returning home from a healing job. He was
