Appeal of Discovery: To find a path to one whom you pursue.
One drop each of hairy viper venom and nightworm pigment. The mixture is quite potent and may bubble or smoke. Avoid touching it as a blister may occur. Follow the tingling of your feet until you find the one you seek.
—WISDOM OF THE FOLK
Ember had watched Mooriah stir the food in her bowl for five full minutes before he couldn’t take it any longer. In their short acquaintance, he’d never seen her avoid a meal. “What is wrong?”
They had been practicing in the trance state for an hour before breaking for a late dinner. He had successfully pierced his skin with the pin twice more and was working with larger and larger pins, hoping he’d get to a knife soon. It was progress, though it was slow, and they still hadn’t tried it outside of the Mother’s meditative illusion. However, Mooriah had seemed out of sorts ever since she’d arrived. Something was obviously bothering her.
She took a deep breath and set her bowl down. “Are you afraid of my power? The Nethersong?”
He frowned. “No? Why?”
“Because I command death. Because I can kill with a thought. It’s inside me—this thing that responds to what most people fear.” Her hands were clenched tight in her lap, and he wanted to soothe them.
“Death is a part of life, the largest part in fact.” He gave into the urge and reached for her hand, uncurling her fist to intertwine their fingers. She didn’t pull away, so he continued.
“I remember crying when my mother was chosen in the lottery to be the Sacred Sacrifice. She was the last one, after her, my father insisted the shamans move away from the practice. Some of the elders protested abandoning tradition, but he truly loved her—in his way. Something inside him broke when she died. But she was proud to have been chosen. Proud to serve her community by giving her blood to the Mother. Her life reinforced our protections, and her sacrifice will go on until the Folk are no more. So, as much as I miss her and wish she was here, all life ends in death. I would have lost her eventually. We should not fear it, we must accept it for it comes regardless.”
He squeezed their joined hands. “There is little point in fearing you because you wield death. You also are a powerful blood mage. I fear that more than anything.” He smiled and her expression lightened.
“My father fears me,” she whispered. She relayed what had happened on the mountain top with the cougar, her voice dripping with sorrow. Tears filled her eyes and overflowed.
“I don’t know why I’m so upset about this. It’s not as if he even knows me at all. He says he loves me, says he only wants to protect me, but he doesn’t understand how his judgment is painful.” She scrubbed at her cheeks.
“By not accepting your power, he’s not accepting you.”
Her eyes widened. “Exactly. And even Fenix had the nerve to look at me like I was made of ants after I killed that cougar.”
“Fenix was there?” Ember stiffened at the mention of the sorcerer’s name.
Mooriah sniffed. “Yes, he brought the cat back to life. His power is…” She shook her head.
Ember was glad that the man was banished. That sort of magic went against the will of the Mother and the Breath Father. “He should not have interfered with life and death matters.”
“I did.”
“You did not interfere. You defended your father. Should we not protect ourselves and those we love? If anyone, man or beast, came for someone I cared about, then their death would be assured. Bringing them back is unnatural magic. You should be careful of that sorcerer.”
He wanted to tell her to be careful of Fenix for other reasons—the glint in the man’s eye had shown that he admired Mooriah—but he stayed quiet on that.
She sighed deeply. “If I become clan, do you think I will ever be truly accepted? Will I ever be one of you and have my own place here—my own family?”
“When you become clan, you will need to fend off the men with one of Glister’s itching spells.”
She huffed a laugh. “Doubtful.”
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
“Scare away all my imaginary suitors? No thank you. If I have even one, then it will be a miracle.”
Her voice was light, but he froze. “Why do you say that?”
“I am not such a prize as all that. So far, the only man to show interest in me is an Outsider, an arrogant thoughtless one at that.”
She tried to pull her hand from his, but he tightened his hold. “Are you certain he’s the only one?” His voice had lowered without him realizing.
She stared at their hands before meeting his gaze. Their faces were very close together all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. She swallowed, bringing his attention to her elegant neck.
Her breath brushed across his lips; she was staring at them, blinking slowly. He held his breath. Then she shook herself and sat back. Disappointment was a mallet against his chest.
“You’re going to be the chief, the Mother willing. You cannot…” She scooted farther away, forcing their hands apart. “You are not even supposed to speak to the unclanned.”
“You are going to be our shaman,” he said, longing for the feel of her skin on his once more. But she was focusing on her bowl again, still not eating, but not looking him in the eye either.
“That’s not assured.”
“Oval is not a fool, Mooriah. Anyone can see that you are better, more prepared, and take your tasks more seriously than Glister does.”
She shook her head but was smiling softly. He would count that as a win. However, the moment, whatever it had been, was gone, and she still had a sad air about her that Ember wanted desperately to dispel. If nothing else, he could do that for her.
He stood and held a hand out. “I know what will cheer you. Let’s take a break.”
“We’re already taking a break,” she said wryly.
“Well a slightly longer break. I’d like to show you something.”
She looked at his outstretched hand and instead of taking it, stood on her own. He fisted his hand at his side, ignoring the mallet that continued hammering away at him.
They exited his hiding place and walked along the abandoned corridors of this section of the city. Some of the staircases here were already falling into disrepair; he made a mental note to have them attended to. Anything to keep his mind off what had almost happened.
“Were you raised in the orphans’ home?” he asked, realizing he knew little about her life.
“At first, though when I was around six, I went to live with Murmur and his family group. He’d had a vision and was convinced to take me in.”
“What does he have again, four wives? Five?”
She shook her head. “Only three—Sparkle passed on to become one with the Mother two years ago. And they added another husband, Yaw, when I was fifteen.”
“The old ways seem very complicated,” Ember said. “How can someone keep up with so many spouses?”
“They have their way of doing things. Though I admit, I have no desire for more than one partner in my life.”
Most of the Folk under one hundred years of age or so eschewed the polyamorous lifestyle that so many of the elders participated in. There just weren’t as many people around any longer.
“I agree. I’d rather focus my attention on one person. Jealousy is a poison that infects too many hearts.” His mother had never shown outward jealousy of his father’s other wives, but had she merely hidden it from him?
“Where are you taking me?” Mooriah asked, looking around.
“We’re almost there.”
She huffed irritably, and he held back a smile. It was obvious that she liked to be in control. He wisely kept to himself how adorable he found her lack of patience. They climbed up a staircase and down another, then snaked through a warren of empty halls until they finally reached the destination.
This place was high in the city, located beneath one of the Mother’s taller peaks. A narrow, dark tunnel, unlit by firerocks, led to a wide cavern. Mooriah gasped as they entered the much brighter space, and Ember tried to recall what it was like to see it for the first time.
The ceiling rose high above them, nearly as tall as Night Snow’s entire city. Here, the Mother’s ragged walls were not smooth like they were in so much else of the territory. This stone was unblemished by the spells which embedded memories or protections in the walls. It was just raw mountain, and on the far wall, an enormous waterfall fed a lake below. Rocks jutted up from the surface of the water, forming a rough path leading to the waterfall. The unexpectedness and majesty of the sight took Mooriah’s breath away.
“Do you want to get closer?” he asked.
Her head tilted up, staring at the grand falls, she nodded mutely. With sure steps from years of practice, he showed her how to leap from rock to rock, crossing the lake in no time.
They stood on a ledge a dozen paces from the water’s thunderous fall. The spray misted them as they drew closer.
“How did I not know this was here?” she said, voice raised to compete with the falling water.
“It was once a retreat for the elite who lived on the upper levels. Now no one really comes here anymore.”
“You do.”
He grinned as they approached the falls and stuck his hand in the spray.
“It’s warm?” She laughed, splashing a little.
“There’s a hot spring in a hidden mountain oasis up there somewhere. At least that’s what they think. No one has ever been there, it’s too high.” He craned his neck to try to see the origination of the water but could not. He didn’t even catch a glimpse of daylight up above. Firerocks were the only thing illuminating this cavern.
“How could there be a hot spring on the top of a mountain?”
He shrugged. “One of the many mysteries of the Mother. My own mother brought me here when I was young. It was her favorite place. I’m almost glad I don’t have to share it with others anymore.” He flushed and turned toward her. “I mean, I’m happy to share it with you.”
She grinned, still enthralled with the feeling of the water streaming through her fingers. Her whole face was transformed with joy as she laughed, waving her arms. She accidentally splashed him, then laughed at his reaction of mock affront.
He splashed her back, and soon they were in an all-out water fight. Her solemnity of before was forgotten, and Ember was overjoyed to have put a smile on her face.
When they finally left, they were both soaked through. The fabric of Mooriah’s chestcloth clung to her breasts, and her waistcloth made the curve of her wide hips impossible to ignore. Ember struggled not to stare. She didn’t seem to notice though, still riding high—this place had that effect on people. In the days after his mother’s death, it had been a great comfort. He didn’t want to do anything to diminish her shine, and so with great force of will, he endeavored to look only at her face.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, still smiling as they entered the tunnel which was the only exit. At the other end she stopped, half hidden in darkness. “You truly don’t care about my Song?”
“I don’t.”
Her gaze lowered to his chest, and he found himself holding his breath as she looked her fill. The only light was from the chamber they were about to enter. The air became charged between them, almost sizzling with a heat he was sure would dry them off in no time. When her gaze finished roaming and met his again, her eyes were heavy lidded.
She reached up to cup his cheeks and draw him down closer to her height. “I have something to tell you,” she whispered.
He bent lower and lower, not resisting her pull. “What?” He wasn’t certain when he’d last taken a breath, his attention was on her skin touching his, the intensity in her eyes.
“I’ve always wanted to do this.”
This time neither of them backed away. They erased the space between them and met in the middle, pressing their lips together. The contact was like a spark on dry kindling. Ember ignited, the kiss moving from innocent and chaste to blazing in the fraction of an eye-blink.
His hands encircled her waist, and he picked her up. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing the heat of her core against his abdomen. He shuddered and broke the kiss, spinning her and bringing her back against the wall. Her arms came around his neck, and he pressed against her, causing her to gasp.
He sought her lips again, the kiss a fiery inferno of need pent up between the two of them. Her admission had surprised him. How long had she felt the pull toward him? As long as he’d felt it for her?
Their tongues danced together as she pressed tighter against him. If he could open himself up and bring her inside, he would. He settled for tumbling into the kiss, becoming consumed by it. He hitched her higher and enjoyed the feeling of her body clinging to his. The score of her nails against his back and neck. Her heat singed his stomach; he slid a hand up her thigh to explore and possibly get burned, when footsteps sounded.
Their mouths tore apart; Mooriah was wild-eyed, breathing heavily. They were at the edge of a hub where a half-dozen hallways converged. This place was obviously not as abandoned as it looked.
Ember set her down, and they swiftly straightened their drenched clothing before turning to face the person exiting a tunnel across from them. When Glister appeared, Mooriah stiffened and moved further into the darkness behind them.
“There you are,” Glister said with a smile before she took note of Mooriah. Her welcoming expression turned harsh. “What are you doing here?”
Ember wrangled his expression, hoping he didn’t look guilty or flushed or aroused or any of the other myriad things he was feeling.
Mooriah stepped to his side, though quite a distance away. “I’ve been looking for a new source of rubia honey. I had reason to believe a hive of cave bees was near here.”
Glister frowned then turned back to Ember. “Your father is looking for you.”
“Ah, okay.”
“Why didn’t you just summon him?” Mooriah asked, eyes narrowed.
Glister tilted her head coquettishly. “I could have, but I wanted to find him for myself.” Ember’s face heated, much to his dismay. She must have used some sort of locating spell. If he could ward himself, he could prevent being found—all the more reason to train harder.
Shooting another look of disdain Mooriah’s way, Glister seemed to finally notice that both of them were wet. “What happened to you?”
“The ceiling of a tunnel back there caved in,” he said, quickly. “Water started pouring down. I’m going to have one of the maintainers see to it.” He cleared his throat. “Could be dangerous.”
Glister’s smile was brilliant. “And that’s why you’re going to make a great chieftain. Come along, we don’t want to keep Crimson waiting.” She held out a hand as though she wanted him to take it.
When he did not reach for her, she grabbed him. Unlike Mooriah’s, her palm felt clammy and sickeningly boneless. As Glister led him away, he looked over his shoulder back to where Mooriah stood with her arms crossed, watching them.
Her expression was shuttered, offering no clue to her feelings. Then she turned away.
This wasn’t how he wanted to walk away from her—in fact, he didn’t want to walk away from her. Not now or ever.
But he would go now to appease his father. He didn’t want anything to make Crimson disqualify him before the match with Rumble. After that though, all bets were off. Ember would win—somehow—and then the whole clan would know how he felt about Mooriah.