A Journey of the Heart (42 page)

Maara fell silent. I watched her eyes grow fierce as she remembered a time that had caused her so much pain. My heart ached for her.

"Time went by," she said, "and Elen didn't come to my bed anymore. At first she made excuses, although she owed me no explanation, but after a while it was as if there had never been any intimacy between us. She treated me as she treated the others, and that hurt most of all. More than the loss of her body, I grieved the loss of her friendship."

Now my heart began to ache for myself, and jealousy left its sour taste in my mouth.

"I did the unthinkable," said Maara. "I complained to her. I begged her to spare some time for me. I accused her of throwing me away." Maara glared at me, as she must have glared at Elen. "Worst of all, I spoke before others. I didn't care about the consequences. I spoke my heart. I had no right to speak to her like that. She was a married woman, and I was just a slave. She should have had me punished for it, but she treated me with kindness. She took me aside and told me she was sorry she hadn't spoken to me before. Her husband was jealous, she said, and she intended to keep herself for him, because she loved him. She was kind, but she made it clear to me that I had lost her."

There was so much pain in Maara's eyes that I wanted her to stop. As if she had heard my thoughts, she said, "I'll never speak of this again. Hear it now, or not at all."

"Go on," I said.

"Elen put me to bed that night and lay down beside me, although she wouldn't let me touch her. I kept my tears inside, but she knew they were there. She tried to comfort me, and while she was beside me, I was comforted a little. At last she fell asleep. I watched her until the lamp went out. The next thing I knew someone was shaking me awake. It was Elen, telling me I had to leave the house. Then I saw the blood. We were both covered with it, and the knife was still in my hand."

It took me a minute to put it all together. If Maara had killed Elen's husband, she had done it in her sleep. A fear I didn't understand crept into my heart. Maara saw it reflected in my eyes.

"You should have let me go," she said.

"No." I got to my feet and stepped over the fire to kneel beside her. "I never feared you, and I'll never let you go."

"You're afraid now."

"Not of you."

"What then?"

"Dear one," I said, "I'm afraid you'll break your heart."

"Too late," she said.

It wasn't true, but there was no use talking to her then. I regretted allowing her to awaken the past, until I understood that it had been awake in her already. Its ghost had found her at the bathing rock and followed her home. As an old wound, long healed over, can fester under the skin, this dreadful thing had slept in Maara's heart until the awakening of memory made it poisonous. It was best to let the poison out.

I remembered that we'd had no supper.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her.

She shook her head.

I wasn't hungry either. "Then come to bed."

I unfastened her leggings and helped her take off her boots. She would have gotten into bed in her shirt and trousers. I stopped her and reached for her belt.

"No," she said.

"I won't ask you for anything. I just want you close to me tonight."

Reluctantly she allowed me to undress her down to the skin. Then I undressed myself and got into the bed beside her. She lay on her side, with her back to me. I couldn't keep myself from touching her. At the first brush of my fingers on her shoulder, she stiffened, but she didn't draw away. I began to caress her back, first with my fingertips, very lightly along her spine, then with my whole hand. It was a healing touch my mother taught me, meant to comfort the heart.

Now I had time to try to understand my fear. I had never feared her, and I didn't fear her now, but I did fear what had awakened within her. What must it be like to believe oneself capable of murdering an innocent? Yet how could she hold herself responsible?

Little by little, the rigid shield of muscle across her shoulders softened under my touch. Perhaps now I could speak to her.

"It wasn't your fault," I said.

Her body grew still.

"You did nothing wrong."

"No more," she said.

I sent a prayer to the spirits of the forest for her healing.

Then I said, "You were asleep. You didn't know what you were doing."

"I said, no more."

"Surely you can't -- "

"Enough!" she said.

"But you were blameless."

Suddenly she turned to look at me. I held myself steady against the anger in her eyes.

"Don't make excuses for me," she said. "I make no excuses for myself. I killed someone who had never done me harm, and I took from Elen someone she loved."

"You didn't mean to."

"No," she said bitterly. "I didn't mean to. Did you think that would make it better? That only makes it worse."

"Why?"

She didn't answer me. Was this a puzzle she meant for me to unravel? Something in her eyes reminded me of a time long ago, when we were hostages in Merin's house.

Now I understood why she had given me her knife. It was not to cut the thong binding us together. She had meant for me to use it to defend myself against her.

"Are you afraid you might hurt someone else?"

"What do you think?"

"In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you do harm to anyone. Except in battle," I added as an afterthought. "That's different."

"You don't understand," she said. "By my hand or not, harm comes anyway." She smiled at me, but her eyes were cold. "The god's curse falls on those I love. I would be wary if I were you."

There at her wound's heart was the true cause of her pain. For the first time I understood something my grandmother told me years before, that it's not our deeds that hurt us, but what they make us believe about ourselves.

"No curse will fall on me," I said. "To me your love has been a blessing. Your love is all I want, and I would say the same if I were to die of it tonight."

I recognized the pain in Maara's eyes. A healer's touch must fall upon the sorest spot.

"Listen to me," I said. "I don't care what you've done, because I know your heart. Nothing you might tell me about the past can change what I see now."

I felt her resist me, as she tried to push my words away.

"All right," I said. "Think what you want. If your love brings a curse with it, then I accept it."

"Hush," she said, and her fingers covered my lips.

I took her hand in mine and kissed it. Then I bent and kissed her mouth. I felt her yield, not only to my touch and to my kiss, but to the truth at the heart of my words, that I knew the price of love and had agreed to pay it.

I raised my head and smiled down at her.

"You won't get rid of me so easily."

She smiled back at me, but worry lines still creased her brow.

"Don't try to tell me this isn't my fault," she whispered.

"This? What?"

"Vintel was first my enemy before she became yours."

"Neither of us is to blame for Vintel's treachery."

"Nevertheless, if I had never come to Merin's house, you would be safe there now."

"If you had never come to Merin's house," I said, "I might have died of loneliness."

To that she had no answer.

I woke to her touch on my skin, a light caress along my shoulder and across my back that made me tremble, as if I had awakened from a dream of desire. I held myself still, thinking she might have touched me in her sleep. Then she leaned over me, lifted my hair away from my neck and kissed me there, just behind the ear. Another kiss brushed my temple, and another touched my brow.

I opened my eyes to darkness. No glow of firelight, no ghostlight of the moon showed me the shape of her. She was a dark presence I could feel but not see, as senses I never knew I had revealed her. My blind eyes saw color at the center, the crimson pain she'd kept from me, lost memory in twilight colors like the dark under the trees, the soft glow of her desire. Perhaps I was dreaming still.

No dream has this much truth in it. Her fingers at my throat reminded me. I felt her ask the question, not of me, but of herself. I felt no fear. No harm will come to me, not like this, not when love asks the question.

To my hands her body is familiar. Others have touched the surface, and some have left their mark. My touch will replace them. My hands will search out the wounded places and give them instead the memory of tenderness. Others have touched the surface. My touch will go deeper.

My body conforms itself to hers. The contours of her body define my shape. Her arms steal me from the world's embrace. My own words echo in my ears.
Your love is all I want, and I would say the same if I were to die of it tonight.
Will the world hold me to my promise? I spoke the truth.

The sweet fragrance of her skin and the scent of her desire lift me into her. My pores open, to breathe her in. My thigh rises between her thighs. Her breath sighs beside my ear. She speaks to me in whispers. I don't understand the words. There are no words for this, but I know her meaning. Her heart is a bright flame within a cloud of darkness. Now, if I'm careful, if I'm clever, I will thread the labyrinth and tread the secret pathway to her heart. The gate is open.

The adventure continues in

the final volume of the trilogy:

When Women Were Warriors Book III

A Hero's Tale

For more information about the trilogy,

When Women Were Warriors,

including ordering information:

www.whenwomenwerewarriors.com