Chapter 8
“I’m done.” Kennick rose. He dropped the needle and thread into the water pan and rubbed his knees. “Now we pray for her.”
Red lay on her side, her breathing steadier now that Kennick had finished stitching. Etti stroked her neck, praising her, and stood. Lightheadedness made her wobble. She clutched the side of the stall, overwhelmed with the iron-like smell of blood, the stained hay, and the fear rising from Red’s body. She could mend torn flesh, but was thankful Kennick had been willing to stitch Red’s wound. Even with the herbs she had given her, it hurt to think of causing Red further pain by piercing her flesh.
Hanzi had become ill from the blood and left, and Rafa had arrived. He looked down at his bloodied tunic. “I’m sorry. I’ve been with the marshals. Haven’t been able to change.”
“How is your chest?” Etti asked.
Rafa touched the tunic. “Only a scratch. How’s Red?”
A cold knot formed in Etti’s stomach. “He aimed to kill her, but he was hemmed in by all the people. Jilé hit bone. It’s a ragged wound—hard to clean and sew.”
Red struggled to standing, shaking her head, and Kennick limped across the stall with linen strips, his walk becoming more fluid as his knees recovered.
“You rest,” Etti said. “I’ll finish here.”
“Your salve will help her. Bandaging, though, will be difficult,” Kennick said.
“I’ll wrap her at an angle over her withers,” Etti said. “We’ll keep her quiet.”
Kennick patted Etti’s arm. “She’s in good hands.” He opened the stall’s short door. “It will be busy all day. Along with buyers, there will be those curious about the fight. I’ll see about moving her to a private stall.” He left, closing the door.
Rafa brought the bandages over.
“Hold her for me, please.”
Rafa took the reins. “She is so comfortable with you here,” he said.
That he noticed her closeness to Red pleased Etti. She reached into the deep folds of her skirt, pulling out a small jar. “Ivy bright,” she said, crooning to Red as she dabbed the salve gingerly on the gash.
Rafa coughed. “It stinks.”
Etti smiled. “It works.” She glanced up to meet Rafa’s dark eyes. “What you did today. I can’t find the words to tell you how much it meant.” A tear wandered down her face.
He brushed it away with his thumb. “I understand.”
“You do? But you thought I was so foolish with Pesha.”
“Forsooth, I still find that a bit… unusual. But I know what it’s like with a horse. When those filthy swine offered to trade and take Dark Tide…” He fisted his hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them.” He looked up. “And I’m sorry I called them that. They’re your brothers.”
Etti exhaled in loathing. “If I never saw them again, life would be sweet.”
He gave her an admiring smile, his eyes twinkling. “After that mighty curse you shouted at them, they should stay away.”
Her face warmed. Oaths and curses were meant to impose will or simply release anger, but they were not used outside the Roma Circle, and never in the presence of Gadje. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Did you see your uncle when you cursed them? He almost popped his Adam’s apple.”
The image he suggested, along with the twinkle in his eye, made her laugh.
“You share the same spirit, you and Red,” Rafa said. “I saw it during the race.”
“I was glad you were there to bid on her.”
“I had to. I saw the fear in your eyes, fear for Red. I would spare you the worry.”
His concern made her want to fall into his arms. Rafa was the first man besides Kennick who understood her distress over Red. Like the morning at the horse baths, she became mindful of Rafa’s male beauty. The clean prominent line of his jaw, his broad shoulders, the gleam in his eyes—it was a look she had not seen from a man before. It closed the distance between them, warming her chest, and raced, along with her blood, all the way to her heart—and lower.
But there were buyers and marshals everywhere, so she stayed her impulses and only touched his hand. It sizzled where their skin met, a fire licking its way up her arm with a kind of magic, magic like the gentle breeze of summer on a warm day, a warming breeze whispering across her cheek.
His hand covered hers.
She was close enough to feel the heat of his body, the scent of him, a mixture of horse sweat and man that stirred her senses. “I was glad to see you this morning. I am always glad to see you.”
His fingers laced with hers, his eyes dark, intense. “And I, you.”
Rafa watched her lip quiver. Her eyes bound him in a spell, liquid, gold in the lamplight, with black lashes feathery as summer grasses. The simple touch of her hand set him on a slow flame that threatened to burst into life. He wanted to pull her to his chest, feel her breasts against him, sense her desire.
Dody’s mention of the upcoming marriage council came to him, her uncle’s words burning in his ears, “I would be happy to speak for you to our king.”
Her uncle’s message echoed like an alarm. Rafa should have responded with more conviction. Etti was a morning star of a woman, lovely to the eyes, with a warm heart, and passion.
Behind her, a string of buyers approached. It was not meet to be seen thusly, not good for Etti’s reputation. He gave her hand a squeeze and stepped a more acceptable distance away. “So.” He took a shaky breath, gathering himself. “You have no sisters? Only those… brothers?”
“Would that my parents had not died, I might have, but no, it’s me and… them.”
“Dody mentioned that. I’m sorry. How did it happen? How did you lose them?”
“A sickness. Not plague, mind you, but a slow, painful sickness.” She patted her heart. “May their spirits be happy together, forever.” She shook her head. “Enough of that. Today you saved Red. You bought her, even after she’d been stabbed.” She turned her attention to the wound and dabbed the remaining salve on the stitches. “I was so relieved when you walked out with her. Thank you.”
“Your brothers. Have they always been so… so—”
“Evil? As long as I can remember, yes. They’re eight years older than me. From my earliest memories, I feared them. They were mean to the dogs, the birds, my parents.” She paused. “And me.” She looked down to the hay-strewn floor, and Rafa could sense her pain as she visited dark memories. “They used to pull glowing sticks from the fire and chase me. If I didn’t run fast enough, my skirt would burn.”
“Your mother didn’t stop them?”
“She said it was my fault for teasing them. ‘You should stay clear of them,’ she said. I wish they would go far away, forever.” She looked at Rafa. “How many brothers do you have?”
“None. I have three sisters. ‘Twas a noisy wagon, ours.”
She smiled. “Tell me about them.”
“There’s Tasarla, she’s five. Elophia’s eight. She loves to run in the sea, chase the waves.” He smiled, looking past the bale of hay and feed trough. “We have a game we play in the lake. We catch crayfish, and see who can catch the most white ones. They’re faster, harder to catch.”
“And what’s the prize? For the one who catches the most white crayfish?” Etti asked.
“The winner gets to walk into camp with the big bag of crayfish, and everyone gives her a big cheer.”
“And how often does little Elophia win?”
Rafa leaned forward and gave her a slow, lazy wink, raising a brow. “Every time.”
Etti laughed. Still, a part of her ached at never having had a brother who loved her, who would have brought joy to her days, instead of fear. Of a sudden the twinkle in his eyes revealed the promise of this charming man. A future with Rafa, she realized, would include laughter. The discovery shimmered like fairy dust, warming her heart. She caught her breath. “And your third sister?”
“Tali’s the oldest. She’s twelve.”
“Tali? Like the dice game?”
“Yes. My mother’s favorite. She said it would bring her first born a lifetime of luck.”
Etti smiled. “Has it?”
“Tali’s a bit like Dark Tide.”
“Fast runner?”
Rafa laughed. “Va. The boys have found her hard to catch. She’s comely, but none have caught her heart.”
A smile curved her mouth. “That’s best. She’s but twelve years. And it would cause problems at the marriage council.”
Her comment caused Rafa to pause. “Councils are always easier if the couple is pleased with the match. Why would that cause problems?”
“Some couples are attracted to each other.” Etti dropped her lashes. “But in our tribe, the men decide which bride is suitable—the boy’s father, other men in the tribe, but in the end it’s the king’s decision.”
Rafa huffed. “How can men alone know if the match is right? In my tribe, women as well as men form the council.”
“Forsooth?” Etti’s expression was one of amazement. She told him of Atira’s disappointment with her husband. “She had no choice.”
Rafa looked at her closely. “What mean you? That a man and woman may be attracted—strongly attracted, as I am to you, and you to me—and they would match you with someone else?”
Etti inhaled sharply. She met his gaze, wide-eyed and silent. Her mouth curved into the softest of smiles. The look in her eyes—it was as if he had just kissed her.
Rafa started. He comprehended what he had said. It had slipped out, like a happy hen’s egg at daybreak. He could not unspeak the words, so he offered her a smile.
“You like me?” Etti’s gaze was direct and beautiful.
Rafa squirmed in the moment he had created. Forsooth, if he didn’t speak soon, he wouldn’t have a chance with her. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I see only you. Your eyes, your face fills my vision and my thoughts, like the warmth of the sun in the morning. Your smile… inspires me.”
He stepped closer, driven by an intoxicating music in his ears, a growing hum in his body as she fixed those magnificent, shining eyes on him.
He tried to stay his hand but failed. He brushed her lush lips with his finger, stroking it over her soft mouth.
Her gaze melted, and she leaned toward him.
He pressed his lips to hers. He lost all sense of connection to the stables. They were floating on a cloud, in a dream. She stroked his neck, stirring a song in his soul, a new, exciting tune.
He pulled her close. Her soft body yielded to him. As his thoughts had roamed to this moment, so desire kindled and burned, and he deepened the kiss.
He heard a harsh intake of air, a gasp.
Melodia stood at the entrance of the stall.