19

 

Siyah

 

“She is a child,” Siyah growled. “Is Lenora to call for her father every time she does not get what she wants? This is the woman you propose I take as a wife?”

He paced the living room of his father’s house, fists clenched at his sides, anger burning through him. His charcoal sweater and black pants were now too hot for the heated room. He pulled at his collar, frustrated.

“Are you saying she has no reason to be concerned?” Deakon sat in a wheelchair, his frail body wrapped in a blanket. “You were seen arguing with Raven on several occasions.”

“Yes, arguing,” Siyah answered, turning to face his father. “How is that a threat to Lenora?”

“Because it is a passionate act,” Deakon murmured. “Lenora is young, but not unwise.”

“Raven is here for her sister; she wants nothing to do with me.”

“And yet manages to be seen in your company often. Soon you will need to visit Yasmine for more sweaters, I am told.”

Siyah bit back a retort and stared out the window of his father’s home. The log cabin, larger than the other homes in the woods, commanded a view of the late afternoon sun swathed with slate clouds. Its eerie orange glow left the woods shrouded in shadows. Distant flashes from across the sea spoke of a coming storm.

“Lenora or her cousins broke into my home, took the dagger Raven made me, and destroyed her room at the Adder Inn. This is the behavior of a jealous adolescent, not a woman ready for marriage.” Siyah forced the anger from his voice. “If her father’s treatment of her at the bonfire wasn’t enough, Raven had to contend with finding Niklos, and then returning to find her room upended by vindictive girls.”

“Again, I am told that Raven ran straight into your arms when she did,” Deakon said, lifting the mug of tea with shaking hands.

“He was found on the carnival grounds,” Siyah said, exasperated. “Where would you have her run?”

“And why was she on your land at night?” Deakon asked.

“I told you that I do not know.”

Deakon shrugged, set down the mug, and, with the help of a cane, rose to his full height. Silver hair pulled back with a ribbon at his nape, cobalt eyes, he held his aging body with chest out in arrogance.

Siyah leaned against the wall, his arms folded, waiting.

His father clearly had something to say of importance. “When you bought the land from the Hales, I assumed it was to tear down the old structures and build a home like this.” Deakon motioned around the great room. “A suitable home for the heir apparent and his bride.”

“That is not what I am doing with the land,” Siyah intoned, keeping his face blank. “As I’m sure you know by now.”

“The Cavalers are the leaders, the explorers, and philosophers of our people, Siyah.” His father drifted around the room, his fingers sliding across the spines of books, along the old mounted nautical maps, touching the bronze sculpture on the mantel. “We are not the laborers.”

“Artisans, father,” Siyah corrected. “There is a difference.”

“Barely,” Deakon said and frowned at him. “Craftsmen, then?”

“Honest men, hard workers,” Siyah countered. “They created instead of wandering and talking.”

Deakon glowered, but let the comment go. “You should not be laboring at all. It is beneath you. Especially in this ill-advised fantasy of bringing back the grandeur of Noble’s artistic splendor.”

Siyah lifted a dark brow. “You think I am wrong to believe in the talent of the Romany people? How am I so different that my sweat is too precious to waste in bettering our lives? You’d rather I let them lose their heritage to menial jobs and petty crime?”

“That will not happen with a strong hand.”

“It is happening, now. Young men arrested in Seattle and all over Noble and the other islands for stealing or drugs.” Siyah shook his head, the helplessness welling in his chest again. “They need someone to lead by example, someone who will work beside them, believe in them.”

His father let out a hacking laugh. “Where do you get these ideas, Siyah? You should be at our council meetings, making your leadership skills known. And you should make it clear that you intend to take Lenora as your bride, once and for all. Her family tires of your vague answers.”

So there it was. The real reason his father had called him to meet.

Lenora’s father applying pressure once again through threats and promises.

“She is too young,” Siyah said quietly.

“And the other three were too much of something, or not enough,” Deakon snapped. “Though it is clear now that what they all are is not Raven.”

“Is this why you called me to your home? Because I already know what you think of her being here.”

“It is not so much what I think, but what Lenora’s family thinks.”

“Bringing that girl here was your idea, yours, and her sisters.” Siyah paced. “I never consented—”

“You never objected, either,” Deakon cut across him. “With your brother gone and my health failing, you know your duty to this family. To all the families.”

“I do know,” Siyah said. “I have never denied that.”

“Raven being back here, her involvement in whatever is going on over there on your land…” Deakon shook his head, his mouth a thin line. “Lenora’s family is unhappy with the rumors, and that puts Raven in their sights.”

“What are you saying?” Siyah snapped. “Have there been threats?”

“Lenora has a very impulsive, bad-tempered brother, who will do what it takes to secure his family’s place here. If Raven threatens Lenora’s position…” He let the words hang in the air, their meaning a dark threat settling over the room.

“The time when Raven could have been mine is gone.” Siyah held his father’s gaze, not giving in to the urge to yell protests or hurl heated words. Instead, he kept his calm, willing the anger and frustration to level out. If ever he had a reason to reign in his emotions concerning Raven, it was now. He couldn’t put her in danger, not again. Siyah walked over to face his father at the mantel. “I do not hold onto that wish. They needn’t worry.”

“Even if you did, she is an unfit bride.” Deakon looked at him for a moment, before sighing and returning to his chair. “No one would accept her as your wife.”

“Why? Because she is spirited? Because she is more than her beauty and her place at a man’s side?” Siyah paced; the image of Raven’s intelligent eyes flashed in his mind.

“She broke a marriage agreement, and shamed both of our families by leaving,” Deakon snapped. “Her father’s rubies, stones his father gave him, were missing. She stole and fled, Siyah.”

He hadn’t known that, and the idea of Raven taking something so precious as heirloom jewels caught him off guard. “What?” Siyah rubbed his face with both hands, suddenly tired. “How long have you known this?”

“I spoke with her father a few days after she left. He told me she had left no note, no way to reach her, and that the rubies were gone.”

“All this time—” Siyah stopped himself. Her father’s treatment of Raven at the bonfire made more sense now. “I can’t believe she would do what you say.”

“Not what I said, Siyah. What her own flesh and blood claims.” Deakon put his hand up. “I saw no need to hurt you more by telling you.”

“There is more to it than that.” Siyah closed his eyes, reaching back to that time. “From what I remember, what you’ve said, there must be a reason she—”

“She is a thief and a liar.”

“She is strong and true,” Siyah argued, his jaw grinding. “Despite what others say of her.”

His father looked at him then, eyes narrowed, silver brows pulled down. He seemed to be weighing his next words.

“Then I know you will never have her,” Deakon said and shook his head. “Because both of us know that you are not either of those things.”

“You are right.” Siyah’s brow furrowed. Losing Raven had destroyed the selfish boy and allowed him to see who he really was. “But she makes me want to be.”