Page 9

Chapter Nine

Fenli

T o say I was angry would have been an understatement.

The decision to run away had been an agonizing one to make.

I’d already been emotionally spent by the time he’d caught up to me out by the cedars, and I’d battled myself more than he could have known to make it there.

Then I’d had to deal with his arguing, right up until the moment he hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me back to where I’d started.

All my efforts, taken from me.

Only this wasn’t where I’d started.

Our small vessel was quick in the water.

Too quick. It had been a long time since I’d been in a boat like this one—with real sails out on salt water—and my nautical experience was slim.

Ess and I had kept to canoes and fresh water, on rivers and lakes near the village.

This ride was something else entirely, and I didn’t like it.

I spent my time near the bow with Goose, giving Roan as much space as possible. He was busy running the lines and—I don’t know—steering the thing, and so we settled in to ignoring each other. It was fine for a while. Until I heard him taking a piss off the stern .

I swore and turned to face the way we were going. He must have heard me because his chuckle was not far behind. I didn’t give him the pleasure of seeing the blush that colored my face.

Later it was Goose’s turn. He lifted his leg and painted the mast, much to Roan’s displeasure.

It served him right.

I held out as long as I could, but by nightfall, I was nearly sweating, I had to pee so badly.

Roan handed me the pot he’d been offering for a while.

“Stop being so stubborn.”

I took it, annoyed. “Turn around.”

He did, walking back to his side of the boat or ship or whatever it was, and I took a moment to curse my fate up one side and down the other. After checking to see if he was still turned away, I heaved a sigh and yanked down my pants.

Gods above, did it ever feel good to take a piss.

I quickly put myself back together and sent my sunshine over the side, leaning into the hull to rinse my pot in the salt water as best I could. Roan didn’t say a word.

We sailed into the night. Sadly, one discomfort seemed only traded for another.

Soon my stomach was pitching with each wave and surge, and I started vomiting.

The contents of my stomach splashed into the dark, swirling waters below as I heaved and heaved again.

Roan brought me a skin of water and asked how I was.

“I hate you,” I said before I’d even considered the words.

And I did. I wanted none of this—not him, not my clan, not this gods-scorned sea.

And I hated him for tossing me over his shoulder and dragging me here.

I reminded myself of that again and again, and I tried not to think of the other part of me that had been…

relieved. That part that had swelled and said He’s come for you.

You belong with your clan. That was the foolish voice deep in my mind that would only see me hurt.

The clan had never fought for me before, not like Runehall’s people had prepared to do.

Toke’s children had been the warriors among the Caed generations ago, back when our lands had been threatened and fighters had been needed.

When other nations had come out of the trees and demanded our shores, it was Toke’s men who had stepped into the fray.

We’d beaten back our foes, and the other clans had lauded us for it.

It was our glory, even now. The stories we told and the heritage we were proud of.

But when it had come down to me, it was Runehall’s who had come with weapons raised. A Caed clan willing to fight another Caed clan. Unprecedented and unimaginable. They would fight to see a dead man’s daughter returned to his home.

The clan of warriors past had not found cause to do battle.

They’d formed a union instead.

A girl and a boy, a rushed ceremony, an easier way out.

And I could hardly blame them.

This was why I could not expect more. I reminded myself of it as I heaved into the waves once again. My clan wanted to keep me with my mother and out of Runehall’s grip, but they didn’t believe I belonged enough to fight to keep me. Roan was all they’d offered me. He was their gift to me.

But I didn’t want him.

Still cloaked in darkness, we caught up to the rest of the fleet.

By the time we reached the Hinterlands three days later, I was exhausted. I stood in the center of the new village, and I hated every inch of it.

It was too big. The sheer size of it was enough to make me nervous, and the buildings were so new that I realized for the first time just how old our past village had been.

This one was all fresh wood and tight stones and bright paint.

While most of the huts had been built with sod roofs back home, the men had favored slate here.

And the main road had to have been twice as wide.

Damn and hell. They’d been at this build for months, probably since the thaw, and they’d kept it quiet the whole time.

They’d decided amongst themselves. They’d done all the work and laid all the plans.

Then they’d come for us, breaking the news and expecting us to smile and abide. They’d not been disappointed.

I glanced at the faces on the surrounding road.

Every way I turned I saw the joy, heard the excitement as friends talked of new huts and better barns and lusher pastures.

Children ran by laughing, one shouting to his companions about the size of the smokehouse.

Worst of all, proud men walked hand-in-hand with wide-eyed women, pointing out details and telling stories that did their fair share to charm.

I was quick to look away.

I trailed behind Roan, both of us with our things slung over one shoulder, and Goose followed me. I was sure we made an odd procession, a contrast to the warmth and celebration surrounding us. We seemed on our way to a funeral while the rest of the village planned for a festival. It felt fitting.

Roan led us through strange streets like he’d walked them a hundred times before—because of course he had—and it was a trek.

He didn’t speak, and neither did I. When we were on the far outskirts of the village, as far away from the hustle and bustle as could be, he walked up to a hut with a front door painted a color that was both blue and green.

“This is it,” he mumbled, readjusting his pack so he could grab the handle. He hesitated. His eyes tracking the sky, he pulled his hand back and straightened.

I shifted my weight.

“What?”

He looked back at me like he was surprised to find me still there.

“Just waiting for the ravens to pass,” he said, looking back to the skies. “They’re a bad omen.”

I tilted my head and caught his meaning, three black birds making slow circles high above us. Oh, this man would be the death of me.

I reached around him, grabbing the door handle and pushing it wide myself.

“Your name means ‘raven’,” I told him. “ Stupid, superstitious ass .”

He frowned. “Really?”

He considered the birds one more time before giving in, ducking under the door frame and sinking into the dark.

Despite all my bravado, I hesitated on the threshold as well. The last thing I wanted to do was follow Roan in there, but it was the only thing I could do. Goose darted in while I hummed and hawed, apparently curious to see what was inside, so I followed behind him.

And I’d be damned if my mouth didn’t drop before I could think better of it.

It had two beams instead of one, and there was a ladder that led to a loft.

The floor was not packed earth but actual wooden planks, as if this were the elders’ meeting house and not some simple hut.

Roan was unshuttering a window in the back, then made for the side wall, unshuttering yet another.

Two of them . There was a nice sized fireplace and some logs set up for seating.

In front of me, a table, not quite finished.

It was twice the size of my old one, and I could see it was in the process of being sanded.

Gods, how I wished I could stretch out map after map over that surface with no husband around to see it.

“I wasn’t able to finish everything before we left,” he said, turning to face me, “but it shouldn’t take much longer.”

He slid his hands into his pockets and looked around.

“The bed’s up in the loft. I’ll move things around and sleep by the fireplace.”

There was only one bed, I realized. He’d built this place with only one bed because of course he would have. I was supposed to be his wife. I eyed the ladder.

“There’s no way Goose can get up that.”

“Yeah,” he said, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, “I didn’t exactly plan on you sleeping with your dog.”

Gods above.

I tried to change the subject as quickly as I could.

“It’s big.”

“Baer decided everyone’s measurements ahead of time.”

“But it’s only the two of us. ”

He stiffened his jaw, and I saw a blush racing across his cheeks before he could duck his head to hide it. He made busy with the inside of his pack, and I pieced it together like the slow-ass idiot I was.

Babies. Lots of them. That’s what Baer wanted.

And he could go to hell.