her something draped in an old rag.
Ilyenna unwrapped it. A piece of crusty bread and a sliver of cheese. Without Metha lording over them, the other tiams must be eating better. Her mouth watering, Ilyenna took a bite, ignoring the crunch of weevils. “Thank you.”
Rone stared up at the moon, which reflected dark glints in his green eyes. “I’ll kill him if you’d like.”
She nearly choked on her cheese. Without asking, she took his waterskin and swallowed. “Kill him?” she whispered with a furtive glance. “If you even touch an axe or knife, they’ll kill us all.”
“Mother told you.” It wasn’t a question. The lines around Rone’s eyes tightened. “Sometimes I think that might be a relief.”
Ilyenna froze, the food in her hands forgotten. “Do you not recall who you are?”
Almost immediately, the hunch in his back straightened. “I am an Argon.”
“You are the Argon clan chief,” she said sternly.
His gaze looked her up and down. “And you are the Shyle clan mistress.”
A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “A clan mistress who smells of chicken dung and sweat and wears her dresses backless?”
He chuckled. “Well, there’s that.”
She closed her eyes. It didn’t have to be this way. Being a tiam was supposed to teach a lesson, not break a spirit. For instance, with Otrok, Ilyenna had offered a trade. She’d allowed the child’s father to stay home and continue to scrape together enough to feed his wife and other children, as long as his youngest son came in his place. In doing so, she’d probably saved the child’s life—only to have it taken from him months later.
“We aren’t criminals,” Rone went on. “We’ve done nothing wrong. I am the Argon clan chief, and you are the Shyle clan mistress.” They arrived at the women’s house. “Good night, Ilyenna,” he said before walking away.
She watched him go, her eyes heavy. “I suppose it could be worse,” she murmured. “I could be alone in this.”
8. Strong as Stone
Ilyenna took the bowl of porridge Narium offered. Trying not to notice the black flecks, she spooned some into her mouth and made an effort not to wince when weevils popped between her teeth. Dim light slanted through the small, dirty windows. The women weren’t allowed candles and only enough wood for cooking their meals.
Narium hurried over and tied a rag over Ilyenna’s hair. “It will keep your hair out of your eyes.” She nodded toward the gruel as she wiped Ilyenna’s back with a cloth dampened with witch hazel. “Eat it quickly or you won’t have time to eat at all.”
The other women were shoving spoonfuls in their mouths as fast as they could. Ilyenna increased her pace. After only a few more bites, a man appeared at the door with a strap in hand. He cracked it against his palm. Abandoning their bowls, the women rushed for the door.
Ilyenna hurried after them. “Where will you be working?” she whispered to Narium.
Narium glanced at the man before she whispered back, “In the fields.”
“Then where are the men working?”
“They’re gathering river stones.”
“To build what?” Ilyenna asked.
Before Narium could answer, Ilyenna bumped into one of the other women. All of them had stopped, their mouths set in grim lines. Ilyenna followed their gazes down the long road. A cluster of dirty, ragged women trudged toward them. One woman staggered and fell. A man rode up behind her and whacked her with a switch. She lifted her arms as if to protect her head, then lurched to her feet and scurried forward. Ilyenna’s eyes widened as she recognized her—Larina.
Cold fury burned within her. These were her people—her clanwomen. She recognized the others one by one. Jossa, Wenly, Kanni, Parsha, and Bet. Lowering her head like a charging bull, Ilyenna marched forward. A hand clamped down on her wrist.
Narium pulled her back and hissed in her ear, “You want to know what our clanmen have been building for
Ilyenna unwrapped it. A piece of crusty bread and a sliver of cheese. Without Metha lording over them, the other tiams must be eating better. Her mouth watering, Ilyenna took a bite, ignoring the crunch of weevils. “Thank you.”
Rone stared up at the moon, which reflected dark glints in his green eyes. “I’ll kill him if you’d like.”
She nearly choked on her cheese. Without asking, she took his waterskin and swallowed. “Kill him?” she whispered with a furtive glance. “If you even touch an axe or knife, they’ll kill us all.”
“Mother told you.” It wasn’t a question. The lines around Rone’s eyes tightened. “Sometimes I think that might be a relief.”
Ilyenna froze, the food in her hands forgotten. “Do you not recall who you are?”
Almost immediately, the hunch in his back straightened. “I am an Argon.”
“You are the Argon clan chief,” she said sternly.
His gaze looked her up and down. “And you are the Shyle clan mistress.”
A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “A clan mistress who smells of chicken dung and sweat and wears her dresses backless?”
He chuckled. “Well, there’s that.”
She closed her eyes. It didn’t have to be this way. Being a tiam was supposed to teach a lesson, not break a spirit. For instance, with Otrok, Ilyenna had offered a trade. She’d allowed the child’s father to stay home and continue to scrape together enough to feed his wife and other children, as long as his youngest son came in his place. In doing so, she’d probably saved the child’s life—only to have it taken from him months later.
“We aren’t criminals,” Rone went on. “We’ve done nothing wrong. I am the Argon clan chief, and you are the Shyle clan mistress.” They arrived at the women’s house. “Good night, Ilyenna,” he said before walking away.
She watched him go, her eyes heavy. “I suppose it could be worse,” she murmured. “I could be alone in this.”
8. Strong as Stone
Ilyenna took the bowl of porridge Narium offered. Trying not to notice the black flecks, she spooned some into her mouth and made an effort not to wince when weevils popped between her teeth. Dim light slanted through the small, dirty windows. The women weren’t allowed candles and only enough wood for cooking their meals.
Narium hurried over and tied a rag over Ilyenna’s hair. “It will keep your hair out of your eyes.” She nodded toward the gruel as she wiped Ilyenna’s back with a cloth dampened with witch hazel. “Eat it quickly or you won’t have time to eat at all.”
The other women were shoving spoonfuls in their mouths as fast as they could. Ilyenna increased her pace. After only a few more bites, a man appeared at the door with a strap in hand. He cracked it against his palm. Abandoning their bowls, the women rushed for the door.
Ilyenna hurried after them. “Where will you be working?” she whispered to Narium.
Narium glanced at the man before she whispered back, “In the fields.”
“Then where are the men working?”
“They’re gathering river stones.”
“To build what?” Ilyenna asked.
Before Narium could answer, Ilyenna bumped into one of the other women. All of them had stopped, their mouths set in grim lines. Ilyenna followed their gazes down the long road. A cluster of dirty, ragged women trudged toward them. One woman staggered and fell. A man rode up behind her and whacked her with a switch. She lifted her arms as if to protect her head, then lurched to her feet and scurried forward. Ilyenna’s eyes widened as she recognized her—Larina.
Cold fury burned within her. These were her people—her clanwomen. She recognized the others one by one. Jossa, Wenly, Kanni, Parsha, and Bet. Lowering her head like a charging bull, Ilyenna marched forward. A hand clamped down on her wrist.
Narium pulled her back and hissed in her ear, “You want to know what our clanmen have been building for
Similar Books
