Winter Queen (11 page)

“See, you are cold.”

Not trusting herself to speak, she bit her lip. His hands seemed to linger as he rubbed in the ointment.

“Your skin is as pale as moonlight,” he said.

“So was my mother’s,” she said without thinking. She was usually careful not to speak of her mother. Memories always dropped a smoldering coal of guilt in her chest. After all, it was her fault Matka was dead. But now Ilyenna had started, she couldn’t seem to stop. “Do you remember her? She had hair the color of a midnight sky and eyes as dark as earth.”

“So do you.”

Ilyenna turned to face him. “If only I were half so beautiful.”

Rone’s brow furrowed. “I don’t see how she could be any more beautiful than you.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

Rone threw his hands up. “I’m sorry. I never know what to say to you.” He turned to leave.

She snatched his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . do you really think that? That I’m beautiful?”

He stepped closer, the intensity of his gaze surprising her. “Yes.”

Her eyes shifted to his arms, the bulge of his muscles visible beneath his undershirt. How would it feel to have those strong arms around her? She couldn’t help herself. Her gaze rested on his lips. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it.

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. Unable to bear it, she looked away.

Rone took a small step forward, still watching her. Was he mocking her?

If he starts tickling me, he’ll have more to fear than Darrien’s axe, she thought.

Calling up her courage, she matched his step, her eyes trained upon his lips. He leaned toward her, so close they breathed the same air. She closed her eyes.

“What are you two doing?”

They jumped back like thieves caught stealing spring lambs. Ilyenna’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. If Darrien found out . . .

But it was Narium who appeared through the trees, her expression twisted in disapproval. Crossing her arms, she glared at the two of them. Ilyenna dropped her gaze and stared at the ground in a mixture of embarrassment and shame.

“Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone else saw what I just did? They’d kill him, Ilyenna. They’d kill my son.”

“They’ll kill me regardless, Mother. The slightest slip—”

“And you think to leave your death on her hands?” Narium interrupted. Her gaze softened, and she stepped forward and placed her small hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be selfish. You’re not the selfish kind. I still need you. Our clan still needs you. Ilyenna still needs you.” She dropped her hand. “From now on, I’ll see she receives food, but not from you.” Narium’s face was hard as flint. “Not anymore.”

Rone took a deep breath. “I am clan chief. I’ve the right to—”

“Silence!” Narium said with all the power of a clan mistress. She turned to Ilyenna. “Please understand, he’ll die.”

Ilyenna dropped her head as tears blurred her vision. “I’m sorry. I’m s
o sorry!” She turned and ran.

11. Healer

Though her blankets were spread before the hearth, Metha was nowhere in sight. Ilyenna was glad to have the kitchen to
herself so she could stitch up her overdress—her underdress would have to wait until she had both light and privacy. With fingers accustomed to a needle and thread, she worked quickly, not wanting Darrien to catch her in the kitchen in nothing but her underdress.

She sighed when she pulled the mended overdress over her head. It was such a relief to have her back covered. Suddenly, she heard voices beyond the door—a man and a woman arguing.

“Why are you doing this?” the woman asked, and Ilyenna recognized Metha’s voice.

“Shh! Do you want to wake my father?”

That was Darrien. Ilyenna cringed. The voices moved toward her. As fast as she could, she ducked outside and pressed her back against the cool river-stone wall. She heard the kitchen door creak open.

“I will not ‘shh!’” Metha said loudly, “You told me you loved me. You told me we’d marry! Now everyone knows I’m with child. My family has thrown me out, and still you won’t give our child a father!”

Ilyenna braced herself against the river stones to keep from falling over. Darrien was the father to Metha’s child? She wanted to marry him? It seemed so preposterous. Ilyenna couldn’t help herself; she peeked through the door, which was slightly ajar. Darrien shoved Metha into a chair and pressed his palms into the table behind her, boxing her in. “If you weren’t carrying a child, I’d beat you for speaking to me that way. I will be clan chief. The daughter of a wheat farmer will never do.”

“Not just a child, your child.” Metha’s voice came out half strangled. “You helped create it, so why am I the only one being treated like a whore?”

Darrien shrugged. “Because you’re a woman.”

Metha’s chest heaved on a silent sob. “And I suppose that scrawny little witch from the Shyle would make a better breeder?”

Darrien pulled back his hand and slapped her full in the face.

Ilyenna covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out.

Metha screeched and raised her hand to slap him back. Darrien grabbed it. With his other hand, he roughly grasped her face. “Don’t you ever, ever speak to me that way again. I got you work out of pity, but if you’d rather, I can take it away and you can live as the harlot outcast you are.”

He released her face and gently stroked the red marks he’d left there. “As for Ilyenna, yes, she’ll make a fine breeder. I’ll enjoy every moment of breaking her. After fathering a few whelps with her, you and I will be free to meet in the woods, as we once did.”

Metha slowly shook her head. “There won’t be any more of that. Ever.”

Darrien chuckled. “We’ll see about that. I like my women with a bit of flesh on them.”

Metha spit in his face. The thin line of spittle ran down his cheek. He wiped it off with his fingers and gazed at it in shock. He threw her to the floor, drew back his foot, and slammed it into her stomach. She gasped in shock and pain, curling protectively around her swollen belly. He kicked her again and again and again.

Ilyenna couldn’t process what she saw. She remembered the Argon babies—the ones she’d tended. The ones who might even now be dead, like Metha’s would soon be. Ilyenna threw open the door and screamed, “No!” Ducking her shoulder, she barreled into Darrien.

He barely had to shift his weight to absorb the blow. Without taking his eyes from Metha, he backhanded Ilyenna. She hit the floor hard. Blackness curled in from the outside of her vision. Shaking her head to clear it, she saw Metha, her face screwed up in agony as Darrien pounded her, his features contorted with rage.

Ilyenna threw herself over Metha, screaming as loud and long as she could, “Rone!” A kick to her already bruised ribs stole her breath. Her whole body clenched in protest. Darrien kicked her over and over, and a scream of pain tore from her throat. Ilyenna realized her folly too late. She hadn’t saved anyone. He was going to kill all three of them.

Something cracked. It sounded like lightning. The kicks finally stopped.

Ilyenna rolled off Metha and vomited. When her retching finally stopped, she managed to look up.

Rone had Darrien underneath him, his fist working the other man into a pulp. Undon must have come down while she’d been sick. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to pull Rone off. Ilyenna tried to shout, but her words came out as little more than a hoarse whisper, “No. Don’t kill him, Rone. They’ll execute you.”

The opposite door flung open. A Tyran barreled into the room, shouting for help. But others were already coming. They must have heard Ilyenna’s screams. It took four Tyrans to pull Rone off. Even then, he struggled to reach Darrien.

Ilyenna realized her hand was wet and looked down. Bright blood pooled beneath her. For a moment, she thought it was hers. But then she remembered Metha. Barely holding on to consciousness, she leaned over the woman. Ilyenna had to help her, but she couldn’t reach through her own pain to think straight. Every time she moved, she wanted to cry out.

Rone.
Would they kill him for saving her and Metha? Would they kill them all?

Undon’s daughters hurried to Metha. They grabbed the woman and dragged her out of the kitchen, leaving nothing but a trail of blood as testament to what Darrien had done. Ilyenna watched them go, trying to force herself to get up and help.

A face appeared before her. It took a moment for Ilyenna to recognize Narium. “The Balance protect me, what’ve they done to you?”

Ilyenna tried to shake her head. “It’s not my blood.” But she tasted blood in her mouth and spit it onto the already stained floor.

Narium glanced up. “Get her to the women’s house,” she said. Then she was gone.

Shyle and Argon women surrounded Ilyenna and carried her between them. She tensed with every step they took, and the pain grew so intense she blacked out.

Dreams took her. Dreams of Darrien’s axe slicing fire through her stomach. Dreams of fairies and winter and dancing. Of a woman with skin as dark as the richest soil and a laugh that sounded like wind through aspens. In her hand was a tiny white blossom. “Eating this will heal even the direst injuries,” she said, her voice like a song.

“No you will not!”

Ilyenna woke with a start. A deep ache radiated from her abdomen, and she knew something was broken inside her. Her abdomen was swollen and tender. She was on the only bed in the women’s house, naked but for a blanket tucked around her. Her body had been washed. The voices were coming from outside.

“You will get back to work.” Ilyenna recognized Undon’s voice.

“I won’t! Your sorry excuse for a son nearly beat her to death. She still might die. Isn’t his child and the child’s mother enough?”

Metha was dead? Ilyenna closed her eyes, hoping Narium’s mouth didn’t land
her a visit to the beating pole.

A long pause.
“He lost his temper. If Ilyenna hadn’t interfered, he would’ve stopped on his own.”

“If my son hadn’t interfered, your son would have killed them both. You think you have me beaten, Undon, but you’d be wise not to forget who I am.
Who Ilyenna and Rone are. If Ilyenna dies, if my son dies, you’ll have the deaths of more clan mistresses and clan chiefs on your hands—and before the Council can even decide if your reparation was just. They won’t wait for the summer feast. They’ll come now and cleanse the clan lands of Tyrans.”

Another long pause.
“Fine. Today you tend her, but tomorrow you will work.”

Ilyenna heard retreating footsteps. After a lengthy pause, Narium let out a long, shaky sigh.

Wincing, Ilyenna lifted the blanket to reveal arnica leaves covering her broken flesh. From the top of her breasts to the bottom of her abdomen, she was black with bruises. Just moving the blanket hurt so much she had to lie back, her energy spent. She felt death waiting for her.

The flower.
The one the summer queen had given her. Ilyenna looked for her overdress. It lay nearby, freshly laundered and mended. On top of it was the elice flower.

Ilyenna strained toward it, her battered flesh screaming in protest. Black spots danced before her vision, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her fingers brushed against the soft petals. She picked up the flower. The three petals looked as fresh as when Leto had handed it to her.

Ilyenna plucked one of the petals and laid it on her tongue. It dissolved as though made of spun sugar. Warmth blossomed in her mouth before taking her far away, high in the mountains. She lay in a meadow. The air was thick with the sweet scent of freshly cut hay and clover blossoms. The early summer sun warmed Ilyenna’s skin. The melody of bird song and scurrying animals filled the air. This was the promise of spring. Renewal. Reawakening. Rebirth. For a long time, she lay in the grass, relishing the warm sun and invigorating smells.

Then the Luathan woman was there, smiling down at her. The sun seemed to have absorbed into her skin, condensing until it shone out of her. “’Tis a fair thing, when summer comes.”

Ilyenna tentatively laid her hand over her ribs. Her pain had vanished. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

Leto inclined her head and sat beside her. “In times past, other queens have been enemies.
Such a shame. We should be sisters, two ends of the same loaf. I awaken the world, you put it to rest.”

“Opposite sides of the Balance,” Ilyenna said softly. She had so many questions, but the warm sun made her too drowsy to ask them. “I would be your sister,” she managed.

The summer queen smiled broadly. “Well then, go back. Survive the summer, and all will be well.”

Ilyenna opened her eyes to stare up at the roof beams. In her hand, she felt the softness of flower petals. Daring to hope, she lifted the blanket. The black bruises had faded to a greenish yellow. Holding the blanket to her bare chest, she carefully sat up. She was stiff and sore, but it was the soreness from a hard day’s work rather than the agony of nearly being kicked to death. Her hunger raged far stronger than any pain.

Moving carefully, she grabbed her underdress—someone had mended it. She tugged it over her head and tightened the laces at her throat. Next came her felt overdress. She tied the rag around her waist to keep it from hanging open at the sides. With the movement, her body was slowly warming up and the stiffness working out. She was tying the laces of her boots when the door opened.

Sunshine streaming in behind him, Rone gaped at her. “What’re you doing up?”

Ilyenna couldn’t help but smile in delight. She’d expected Narium. “Rone? But . . . how long have I been here?”

He came in, shutting the door behind him. “This is the second day.”

A whole day since she’d last been conscious. That explained Narium’s absence.

Rone looked her up and down before moving to Narium’s makeshift bed on the floor and pulling out a knotted bit of cloth. “Mother said you might die. How’re you even out of bed?”

Noting the stiff way he moved, she waved his question away. “What did they do to you?”

“I’ll tell you all about my
ordeal
after you’ve eaten something.” He untied the cloth and handed it to her. Dried apple slices, cheese, and a bit of bread. “Sorry there’s not more of it.”

Ilyenna’s mouth watered at the sight of the apples. Her hands trembling from hunger, she picked out the apple slices, saving them for last. “Don’t be sorry. I know you take the food from your own share.” She took a bite of the bread.

Rone sat beside her on the bed and watched her eat most of the bread before he spoke, “They beat me with a soaked strap.”

Ilyenna’s
breath snagged in her throat. Fingering an apple slice, she wondered why his punishment hadn’t been worse. She hesitated before asking, “Is that all they’re going to do?”

“For now.
I think Undon’s afraid if he kills me before the Council makes their decision, they’ll come against him. Which they will.”

“And he let you care for me?”

Rone grinned. “Undon and Darrien are too busy to keep track of me today.”

Ilyenna finished the last of the cheese and tucked the remaining apple slices in her pocket.
“Metha?” She undid her loose braid and combed through her hair with her fingers.

Rone watched her, a soft look around his eyes. “She’s dying.”

Ilyenna sagged as she rebraided her hair. Metha hadn’t shown her anything but cruelty, yet Ilyenna felt sorry for the woman, for what Darrien had done. Metha’s story and hers were more alike than Ilyenna would’ve ever guessed.

“Has anyone been to see her?” She tied off her braid with a cord.

“Apparently Undon’s daughters didn’t learn much of healing before their mother’s death. My mother did the best she could for her.”

Ilyenna was on her feet before she could even think it through. Wincing, Rone moved to block her. “Where are you going?”

She tried to sidestep him. He mimicked her movement. She felt the heat from his body and hated that her stomach twisted in a delicious knot. “Rone, let me past. I might be able to help her.”

He gripped her forearms. “She’s beyond anyone’s helping, Ilyenna. You need to rest. And you need to stay away from Darrien.”