Fortuitously—or by design?—Aylaniś had released the net. One arm wrapped about her ribs; she was laughing herself into hiccups.
Palatan rose, sputtering, shaking his head and hands. Tokela had to laugh—Palatan resembled a midLands wildcat gone for an unplanned ducking. Našobok trod forward, water curling and foaming, and scooped Palatan from the water with one arm. Setting him upright, Našobok gave a fond tug to his companion’s sopping temple plaits. To this liberty, Palatan responded with a laugh and a cup of his palm at Našobok’s nape.
More yelps of encouragement greeted this.
“Give him a ducking, Alekšu!”
“The bloodfins are spawning, not you!”
And a snort from the elder playing out Tokela’s net. “Too old to indulge in that sort of play! But what to expect from an outlier and a horsetalker!”
Tokela barely heard. His notice had riveted to the cling of Našobok’s hairtail, like a trail of ink down his well-muscled back and dipping into the cleft of buttocks outlined by his clout. Or the slick-lithe, knowing language of Palatan’s back, arching for just that much too long beneath Našobok’s embrace, fingers clenching at Našobok’s nape, pulling the thick, black tail of hair to glide along Našobok’s back then swing sideways. The glint of Palatan’s teeth could have been snarl or smile, but Našobok didn’t take offence. Instead he gave a cheeky grin, one that made Tokela dizzily wonder how bees had taken sudden residence in his belly. That fascinating tail of hair flipped over one shoulder and snagged on Našobok’s left nipple—actually, a silver ring piercing that nipple—for a heartbeat.
Perhaps more, for Tokela’s heart hammered, sudden-quick and so loud he swore it was audible. As Našobok released Palatan at the bank, Tokela kenned the reason he was getting dizzy. He’d forgotten to breathe. He sucked in a huge gasp, and as if in answer River swirled about him, a quick eddy that nearly pulled him from his feet, a caress that rippled up his thighs and tongued his belly.
Našobok stiffened. Palatan asked a question too low to be heard, and Našobok shook his head. But as Palatan turned away, Našobok darted a quick gaze about, a frown quirking his brow.
Tokela hunkered down in the water, tearing his gaze away.
It was then the whisper tickled at Tokela’s nape, not just sound, but making talk:
He is mine. You are mine. My own.
Sucking in a harsh breath, Tokela slid beneath the tree limb and sloshed from the water. By the time he reached the banks, he’d started to run.
ANAHLI SAW him, tearing away from the tributary as if fleethounds were on his heels.
Strangely comforting, to see that she wasn’t the only one who found the playful wrangle of wyrhling, Alekšu and horse-chieftain upsetting. Somehow.
Why would Tokela be upset? Why would she be herself? Even if part of her wanted to laugh, join in.
“Inappropriate.” The soft, bitter voice merely encouraged more acrimony. “Like foolish oških, those three, with eyes only for the long-lost lovemate.”
Anahli refused the bait. “I’m oških. And people laugh to see their joy.”
“The joy will sour, as soon as those here remember that Alekšu openly courted an outlier.” For all her bulk, Chogah could move with grace and speed. She gained Anahli’s side with barely a pebble disturbed underfoot. “Why aren’t you with your own playmate, oških, instead of eyeing outliers and fools?”
Of course she knew Anahli had a new playmate. Chogah seemed to ferret everything, one way or another.
“I’m resting, Aunt. Even here, they allow time for rest.”
“You are too bold. Defiance gains little without the proper stealth for success.” Head tilting, Chogah moved closer. “I tried to change your dam’s mind. You know you don’t belong here, any more than that one”—her chin jerked the way Tokela had fled—“does.”
N’da, I don’t know. I know nothing about you, and sometimes too much…
“But I am alekšu tuk, in power no longer, and now your dam gives me only what respect she must. Instead the respect I earned goes to her spouse—a male, nothing more—who stole my place.”
“He stole nothing.”
“Stole my place, and my rights!” Chogah spat. “And if you do not stay with your People, take your place, then how will we overcome what has been taken from us?”
“It’s time I proved my place, aunt. What if I just want to be what I choose, not what you keep saying I must be? You, with your secrets and suggestions. Are you any different, truly, than my mother or my father, who also try to say what I must be?”
Chogah was smiling, in her charming, pitying, oh-my-heart sort of way. “Oških will challenge. It’s their way and their right, eh?” The smile slid into a sneer. “So we have a new Alekšu who hasn’t even the wherewithal to shun a wyrhling as he should. As he must, if he is to keep his place amongst firstPeople.” A sigh. “I only wish your parents could see what fools they are made. Thankfully you are not so easily played, Cousin. You saw the wyrhling for what he was, from the beginning.”
N’da, only from the time a second father had abandoned his family, let his River quench Fire.
And played by whom? The thought had come to Anahli, more and more. She was no longer the ahlóssa that had hung upon every web a powerful and supposedly-infallible Alekšu had once spun.
Anahli kept her thoughts her own, and her ebony eyes upon Chogah, gauging. Uncertain.
FESTIVITIES HAD been postponed until nextSun’s rising, when the successful harvest of bloodfins would be given their due honour. Shifts of preparation had begun, of course, and would continue over the coming Suns to ensure none missed more than their share of First Running. For now, many guests and residents rested, tired and satisfied with thisSun’s work, eager for a large meal and good sleep.
Tokela had no wish for the latter. And after a quick stop by the ahlóssa den for his pouch, his nose led him to the former, tantalised by the peppery scent of fat dripping onto Fire’s tongues.
