When a moth loved a bee, p.32
When a Moth loved a Bee, page 32
Dropping my hand from my lips, I touched my thigh. I flinched as I grazed the moon-shaped smudge, glaring at the streak of blood left behind.
I met her gaze. “A little.”
“What does it mean?” she breathed.
I exhaled heavily. “No idea.”
Natim nuzzled his wolfling littermates out of the way as Kiu finally lay back down with a grunt. Runa watched the family all while my mind raced and heart pounded.
She looked as empty, lost, and afraid as I felt.
The awkward stiffness between us was more than I could bear.
I didn’t risk touching her, but I did lean forward, searching for the prickles and heat that always danced over my skin whenever we were close. “I remembered the name of the beast you saw that night.” I tried to recapture the magic of before. “It’s called a Halcyodon, and you didn’t dream it.”
Runa shivered, rubbing her arms. “You saw it too?”
“Not while walking. I saw it when—” How could I tell her I’d seen it when I sank into death after her lynx bit me and the fevers pushed me deep? I’d only just said it wasn’t a dream, yet for me…it had been. “The word is from our shared language. The one you told me we shouldn’t know.”
Runa bit her bottom lip, making my mouth water to kiss her again. “I know. It means harmony…tranquillity.” She curled over her knees.
“I think that’s why you saw it that night,” I whispered. “After a lifetime of feeling so lost and alone, you paused and saw beauty. You were tranquil for the first time and summoned the very creature that embodies the word.”
She didn’t move as if absorbing my words, mulling them over, tearing them apart in order to understand the truth. Finally, she exhaled and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “I’m suddenly exhausted.” Dropping her hands, she gave me a sad smile. “I thought remembering would be easy, not make everything so much harder.”
“I know what you mean.” I returned her melancholy smile. “I-I didn’t mean to kiss you. I’m sorry if I upset you. I was just…overwhelmed.”
“You don’t have to apologise.” Her chin ducked as her cheeks pinked. “It was…nice.”
Male pride stung. “Just nice?”
She laughed, cracking the awful strain that’d clouded the cave. “It promised to become something so much better than nice.”
I sucked in breath. “I want to do it again.” Shooting a look at Kiu, I added quietly, “Without the fanged chaperone.”
Her amber gaze fell on Kiu, then lingered on Natim as he rested his head on the belly of a sated pup. “It seems whenever we get close something always pushes us apart.”
Reaching for one of the tubers I’d brushed clean, I snapped the narrow tip and brought it to my mouth. Mainly so I had something to do with my hands but also because my stomach kept churning with things I couldn’t understand and needs I couldn’t sate. “Perhaps they’ve all been commanded by the fire to keep us apart.” I bit into the root with a grin.
I’d meant the sentence to be light-hearted and full of jest. I didn’t believe the fire could do such a thing, even if the coincidences were becoming too often to ignore, but Runa sucked in a sharp gasp.
“I-Is that possible? Could every creature have been given the same task? To keep us apart?” Her voice tightened with worry. “Is that why Salak doesn’t want me here? Why he warned me to stay away? Why Syn attacked you from taking me?”
I swallowed the crunchy mouthful, pleasantly surprised by the woodsy, earthy flavour. “That would mean the entire world and every element, beast, and mortal has conspired against us.” I laughed even as fear tiptoed down my spine. “That’s ludicrous.”
“Is it?” Her arms wrapped tight around herself as her tawny face whitened to the same shade as her colourless hair. “Who are we?”
I crawled toward her without thinking, drawn to her panic.
Throwing a glower at Kiu, just daring the wolf to forbid us from touching, I wrapped my arms around her.
Runa shuddered as her head fell onto my shoulder and her arms looped around my waist.
I trembled with overwhelming connection and a devastating desire to never let her go. “I think there are many things we don’t know. Things we need to find out.”
She nodded, her hair catching on my chest. “But how?”
I paused with a request on my tongue. A request I’d already made and she’d denied. But perhaps now, she might agree. Drawing her nearer, catching Kiu’s eyes as the she-wolf watched us closely, I murmured, “I want you to help me remember my name.”
She struggled, trying to loosen my arms around her. “I told you. I don’t know how—”
“I know you said it’s dangerous and that you don’t know what to do, but it’s far more dangerous to stay blind.” I pulled away and looked into her eyes. “It’s time we start remembering, Runa, before it’s too late.”
She stiffened but didn’t look away. Thoughts clouded her stare and her tongue swept over her bottom lip as she went over every pitfall and challenge. I gave her all the time she needed, holding my breath as she tugged out of my arms and sat solemnly.
Raising her chin, she said, “I refuse to use the damaq root. I would hate to kill us with the wrong dose. And besides, I’ve not seen any damaq trees close by.”
I clasped my hands over my lap. “I would prefer not to poison ourselves, so I agree with that rule. Anything else?”
“I don’t know the symbols to paint or where Pallen found the mushroom required to keep us bound to this world, but…” She flinched. “I hope, as long as we clasp hands, we shouldn’t lose each other like I lost Solin.”
I half-smiled. “If that’s permission to hold your hand, then I happily agree.”
“I can’t promise you anything. Without the ceremony and a master guiding the trance, I have no idea if it will even work.”
“I’m willing to take that risk.”
“I also can’t promise the fire will be kind. Why would it help you when it keeps warning me to stay away from you?”
“Again, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” I studied her for a long moment before confessing, “I need to know, Runa.”
Pulling the basket of food toward her, she selected the daylily flower and its bulb. Silence thickened as she bit into the flower and chewed. Picking up another root, she held it out to me. “Tell me one thing honestly. The shadows you summon. Could you do that while you walked alone?”
I rolled the root in my hands. “No. My first time was racing with Salak. The morning I found you in the grasslands.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Do you think they appeared because of me?”
“Because of you?” My spine straightened. “I hadn’t found you yet.”
“That’s true.” She crushed another petal in her fingers, nervousness creeping over her strength. “I only ask because my sensitivity toward animals…” She didn’t meet my eyes. “That gift grows stronger every day—almost as if being around you has unlocked a piece of myself that I didn’t know existed.” She laughed awkwardly. “Being around you makes me feel more myself, even though I still have no idea who that is.”
I couldn’t breathe.
My hands fisted the tuber as I sat motionless, fighting every urge to snatch her into my arms and kiss her again.
The shadows Runa had mentioned pooled out of me, siphoning from my hips and swirling over my heart.
She gasped as the black tendrils licked around her, touching her the way I wanted to.
Kiu snarled quietly, warningly, but I didn’t pull the shadows back.
They’d appeared because I couldn’t control how I felt, but they grew because I gave them permission. For the first time, I sank into the dense blackness in my marrow and manipulated them instead of letting them manipulate me.
It was as easy as breathing.
A simple wish, a passing thought, and a shadow extended from my wrist, whispering over Runa’s cheek just like my fingers burned to do.
She flinched.
I gathered the shadows and sucked them back into nothing. “The moment I met you, I knew you were what I’d been missing. You didn’t feel new or unknown, Runa. You made my very spirit exhale with relief. I swear my entire body said, ‘Ah, finally. There she is.’”
Her lips parted but I didn’t let her speak.
“I knew you were what I’d been searching for, what I’d lost. It’s true that the shadows only appeared the day I met you, and you’re right that the longer I’m around you, the easier it is to control them, but that isn’t what you truly want to know.” I studied the worry in her amber eyes, the fearful hesitation. “Is it?”
She shivered, then shook her head.
“So ask, and I’ll be truthful. Just like I’m truthful when I say our meeting wasn’t by chance. I wholeheartedly believe we’ve been walking toward one another all this time.”
She rubbed at the spot above her heart.
For a moment, she sat in my confession, accepting what I believed, tasting my truth. Finally, she murmured, “You don’t feel new either. But…” Her shoulders came up and her voice turned thin. “The fire told me you already walked in death. That you are darkness itself. Your eyes are like smoke and your skin carries the tint of shades even in the sunlight. You control the night as if you are the night and…the part of me that recognises you is the very same part warning that we aren’t the same.”
I swallowed. “We are opposites.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes widened. “That word has always felt important.”
“And because I’m marked by darkness, you think you should what…fear me? Not trust me? Not trust what we feel?”
She shifted with discomfort. “I…don’t know.” She looked away. “If we’re to step into the flames together—to return to a fire that warned me so ferociously about you—I-I need to know. Are you…do you think—” She swallowed hard. “Do you think your shadows are evil?”
“Evil?” I reared back. “The shadows are me. Just like your sensitivity is you. Do you think I’m evil?”
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“What do you think? Truthfully.”
She sniffed, pausing for a long heartbeat. “I think you’re right. You need to remember your name because a name has the power to make something real. It’s time you stepped out of the darkness and know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
. Runa .
“IS THAT ENOUGH?” THE STRANGER stood in the bright morning sunshine, his bare chest gleaming with sweat from carrying armloads of dry branches and kindling.
We’d both enjoyed a swim this morning, bathing and cleansing like Pallen had made me do in her ritual to prepare me. We’d kept our eyes averted as we’d removed our coverings, swam apart, and attended to whatever methods of washing we preferred.
Once we’d finished, we’d dressed quickly, and he’d marched into the woods to gather fuel for the trance. Now, his sweaty body held streaks of dirt again, looking even more appealing than when he was clean.
My stomach clenched as I drank him in. The more I was around him, the more I struggled to tear my eyes away.
This morning, he’d shorn off the hair that’d thickened around his jaw. I hadn’t said a word as he’d used a calm pool of water to study his reflection and carefully scraped a sharp-edged rock over his cheeks.
I’d seen Solin shave before.
He used the stone knife that was the brother to the blade Aktor had used on me. Most Nhil men kept their faces clear of hair, preferring to wear braids and adornment on their heads, rather than their faces. But the stranger’s way of shaving had taken much longer and left behind some growth that mimicked the shadows he could summon, darkening his skin and framing his mouth.
His mouth that kissed me.
Tearing my gaze from his lips, I forced myself to focus.
He’d stacked the wood where I’d pointed by the river’s edge, believing I knew what I was doing when really, I hadn’t slept last night with worry.
I’d tossed and turned beside him while Natim nuzzled me to settle.
I didn’t want to do this.
I didn’t know how to do this.
I glowered at the river innocently babbling in the sunshine. It hadn’t glowed or sung while we swam—it was just water making its endless journey through the earth.
“Runa?” The stranger came close, cupping my elbow with his calloused hand. I flinched and blinked away my fears. His handsome face and wild hair came into focus as I studied his dark smoky eyes, thick lashes, and perfect lips.
My heart fluttered like the tiny bees that always seemed to hum nearby.
“Sorry.” I shook myself, trying to recall his previous question. Glancing around the small clearing with pockets of wildflowers sprouting in river reeds, I spied Natim as he attempted to eat grass like a big stag and not bend his legs like a fumbling fawn.
My eyes caught on the mountain of sticks he’d stacked.
“Should I gather more?” He dropped his hand, raking his fingers through his messy black hair, revealing hidden nerves despite his urgency to do this.
“No.” I laughed awkwardly, my own nerves making me jittery. “That’s more than enough. Too much really.”
“Are you sure?” He scowled. “You said the trance with the Fire Reader lasted from dusk to dawn.”
“It did.”
“Then I didn’t gather enough fuel to burn.” He marched toward the treeline again. “I watched the Nhil fire the night the lynx bit me. It’s hungry, and that pile won’t last. I’ll return—”
“Wait.” I jogged after him.
I didn’t know how to explain how the trance would work. I didn’t know myself. All I could offer was what I’d seen Solin do and what the Fire Reader had told me.
Cutting in front of him, I said, “When I stepped into the trance with Solin, we were no longer a part of this world. I know we took a toxin, which we won’t use this time, but I don’t think we’ll be conscious to worry about more fuel.”
“What?” His eyebrows drew together. “What will we be if we’re not awake?”
“Not here.” I gave him a tight smile.
“Can we wake when we want?”
“I-I don’t know.” I grabbed my still-damp hair and twisted it into a white rope, draping it over my shoulder. “It depends on what the flames will share with us. The moment we become a part of the fire, we won’t need to add more fuel. As long as there’s enough to start a decent blaze, it will continue to burn until we’re back.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “And if the trance takes all day?”
“Then it will burn until we return.”
I think.
I hope.
I stepped away from him as Natim came bounding toward us, his little white tail wagging. “Solin said that while we walked in the flames they couldn’t go out. Even if a river flowed right over its coals.”
He cast a dubious look at the river as if wondering if it would do such a thing.
After it’d spoken to me yesterday, I wondered the same thing. Were fire and water enemies, or did the two elements coexist happily? If I was now Quelis—adopted by the fire and given the gift of messages and summoning its flame children—why had the river decided to sing to me?
It was yet another question I had no answer for.
I glanced at the stranger—at the wolf pelt wrapped around his narrow hips and the muscular power in his belly. His legs were lean and long, his arms strong and sleek. His height and confidence granted me comfort that he’d protect me, all while I felt slightly threatened in his presence.
His honesty scared me.
His convictions about us made my doubt seem so much worse.
Inhaling sharply, the stranger put his hands on his hips. A position of defiance and confidence. “If we have enough wood, should we begin?”
Bending, I scooped Natim into my arms and forced a reluctant nod. “I can’t think of a reason to say no.”
His lips curled into a smile. “You sound as if you’re unwilling, Runa.”
I laughed, grateful at the tease in his voice. “Was I that obvious?” Cuddling the fawn, noticing he’d already put on weight and size, I turned and stepped back toward the mountain of sticks.
The stranger fell into step with me. “I’m grateful for this. I hope you know that.”
“I know.” I caught his eyes as we stood by the river and faced one another. “I just hope I can give you what you want.”
His gaze darkened. “You’ve already given me what I want.”
Swallowing hard, I placed Natim down and jumped at the flash of yellow eyes in the treeline. Snapping upright, I whispered, “There are wolves watching us.” I narrowed my gaze at the silver and black beasts lounging beneath glossy leafed bushes.
“They never leave your side.” He smiled. “I asked them to keep you safe.”
“They’ve been there all along?”
“Today and yesterday.”
I huffed. “I must be blind.”
“Or maybe you’re finally beginning to see. Only to find there’s too much to look at all at once.” He dropped to his haunches and snatched a handful of kindling.
I stood stiff, once again speechless at his wisdom.
A thread of eagerness filled me. Despite my fear of doing this, I wanted to know who he was. I wanted to learn his name and remember everything I might know about him from before. Because the more time we spent together, the more my heart was convinced he was special. I was no longer drawn to him because of the potential of a shared past but because of the potential of a shared future. He was good and wise and kind—even if his shadows and the fire’s scaremongering had made me ask if he was evil.
I don’t believe he is.
Not even the smallest doubt.
The fire’s hisses had made me ask, and I cringed for how that would’ve made him feel.
