It Wakes in Me (21 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: It Wakes in Me
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Without a word, he rose, gave her a forlorn smile, and put on his cape. As he walked to the door, Flint watched him with his jaw clamped tight. Then Strongheart spoke to him, and Flint’s face slackened.
Flint said, “Yes, I understand.”
Strongheart ducked beneath the curtain and walked out into the mist.
A hollow ache expanded in her chest.
Why didn’t I tell him how much I wanted him?
Flint shouldered between the dancers and hurried toward Sora. As he knelt, he said, “Strongheart said you wanted me.”
She sat up, pulled him close, and whispered, “Tell me what Grown Bear said.”
He glanced at the Dancers. “This is hardly the best place to talk.”
“Lie down. With all the other sounds, no one will hear us if we’re quiet.”
They stretched out together, and Flint pulled the blanket
over them. As he rolled on top of her, the dark wealth of his hair fell around her, shielding their faces like a curtain.
Flint whispered, “Last night, I spoke with both Grown Bear and Feather Dancer. I think we’re in trouble.”
“TROUBLE?” SORA ASKED.
“Yes. Feather Dancer heard two of the captives talking. As soon as the jade party leaves Blackbird Town, Matron Wood Fern will dispatch warriors in a brilliant stroke that will elevate the status of Water Hickory Clan.”
Her heart thundered. She had feared all along that she was only a minor player in this charade, that Water Hickory Clan had grander desires than just her downfall.
“Is Wood Fern plotting to bring about the fall of Shadow Rock Clan?”
Flint kissed her hair and eyelids, taking his time, moving across her temples to her cheek, and finally to her ear, where he breathed, “Maybe. All I know for certain is that one of my clan members must have stolen the jade to give it to Grown Bear.”
“How do you know that?”
“When I asked Grown Bear where he’d gotten it, he said, ‘You are Water Hickory Clan. Don’t they tell you anything?’”
Flint covered her mouth with his, and his tongue touched hers. “Another thing,” he pulled away to whisper, “my relatives here apparently volunteered to be captured.”
“
What?
Did they tell you that?”
“No. Feather Dancer overheard two of my kinsmen talking.”
Sora tried not to show her alarm, but as she passionately kissed him back, possible scenarios raced across her souls. Wood Fern had worked very hard after the capture of the Oak Leaf villagers to talk the other Black Falcon clans into going to war to wipe out Eagle Flute Village. She’d said a war would solve two problems in one fell swoop: They could release the hostages, and the Loon People would no longer be around to lay claim to the gathering grounds. But the capture hadn’t forced the nation into war. Wood Fern was a shrewd old woman; she must have planned for that possibility … .
“Dear gods,” Sora whispered, “that’s how they did it.”
“Did what?”
“That’s how they got Blue Bow to Blackbird Town so he could be murdered. The hostages were a tool to lure him out into the open.”
Flint stared into her eyes. “You mean—”
“I mean they gave him a lever with which to bargain for the gathering grounds. ‘I’ll release the hostages, if you agree to let us have the gathering grounds.’”
“Of course. Without that leverage, he’d have never left the safety of Eagle Flute Village.” Flint leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “I pray the gods forgive me for being so blind.”
“What do you mean?”
“After Blue Bow’s murder, Grown Bear assured me that if Water Hickory Clan didn’t act quickly, the new chief, Horned Owl, would kill our hostages. For a small fee, he said he might be convinced to intercede on the hostages’ behalf.”
“You paid.”
“I paid.”
“That was wise. The hostages are still alive.”
Flint shook his head, as though deeply disappointed in her. “Sora, don’t you understand? That’s how Wood Fern got
you
to Eagle Flute Village.”
Blessed Black Falcon …
A terrifying admiration filled her.
“She used the hostages as tools to get rid of her two greatest opponents: Blue Bow and me. Neat and clean. Very well done.”
He lifted his head and gave her a quizzical look, as though amazed she could appreciate the details of a plot designed to murder her and destroy her clan. “Don’t be too envious; I suspect your murder is just step two.”
“Yes, you’re right. We still haven’t figured out how she plans to elevate Water Hickory Clan.”
Flint flipped back the blanket so that the Dancers could see what he was doing and lowered his hand to stroke Sora’s ‘little manhood.’ All around the room, men did the same with their partners. When Flint tucked two fingers inside Sora, moans of pleasure filled the air.
Flint whispered, “Did my cousin, Far Eye, guard your house often?”
“Yes. Do you think he stole the jade?”
“Probably. Once Skinner had told him where the box was hidden, it would have been a simple matter.”
Every time he said “Skinner,” a deep ache laced his voice.
She stroked his hair, and he looked up. “I’m sure he was under orders from his clan matron, Flint. He had no choice.”
A faint tremble moved his head. “He must have told Wood Fern that I would be a problem. They had to get me out of the way, occupy me, because if I ever figured out what they were doing I would warn you.”
That’s why Skinner had to kill White Fawn. He knew it would break Flint’s heart. Grief clouds the mind and makes people far more malleable … .
“Would you have warned me?”
“After fourteen winters of marriage, I’m the
only
one who’s earned the right to kill you, Sora.”
Shadow Rock Clan is caught up in a maelstrom. I have to get out of here before it’s too late. Have they assassinated Wink yet? Surely that’s step three.
Flint rolled on top of her, pulled up his shirt, and roughly shoved his manhood inside her. His thrusts were deep and swift, like those of a careless stranger, as though he knew he had to carry out the ritual act but there was no emotion in it, no love. He was just trying to get it over with.
She suddenly longed to be lying in Strongheart’s arms. The need was so powerful it was like a blow to the belly. She had never wanted any man but Flint. Until now.
Panic tingled to life and burned through her veins. Wink was in danger. The entire Black Falcon world teetered on the edge of civil war, and she was falling in love with a man from the enemy nation.
Frantic and confused, she …
The edges of her vision grayed. For a moment she didn’t understand what was happening. Then the twitching began in her fingers and rapidly spread. Within a few heartbeats her whole body jerked spastically.
Flint gripped her head in his hands and looked down, but his eyes were not his own. They were the bright burning sun-eyes of the Midnight Fox. His mouth was moving, and she could just hear him shouting,
“Sora, Sora, Sora …”
THE DRIZZLE BEGAN AT NIGHTFALL, AND PEOPLE PICKED UP their looms and supper platters and trotted for their houses. Even the sparkflies who’d filled the trees like nets of fallen stars crept beneath the leaves and bark to hide until it was over.
Snail glanced up at the clouds and morosely leaned his shoulder against the door frame of the Priest’s House. The birds clinging to the stems of the marsh had fluffed out their feathers in defense. “I hate standing guard in the rain,” he said to Black Turtle, who’d just flipped up the hood of his woven hanging moss cape. “No matter what I wear, I always get soaked. Rain runs down my collar when I bend over and up my sleeves when I lift my war club.” He shook his head. “It’s a misery.”
“Stop complaining,” Black Turtle replied. “At least you’re not lying on the sleeping bench in there with your tongue lolling from your mouth.”
Snail nodded heartily. The last time they’d peeked through the door to check on the “patient,” she’d looked more like a poisoned animal than a human being.
“You know, that Evil Spirit inside her is very Powerful. One minute she’s a gorgeous seductress, the next she’s foaming at the mouth like a mad dog.”
Black Turtle chuckled and glanced at him from beneath his hood. “Now would be the time to take her. Her soul is out wandering the forest. She’ll never know you did it. I’ll stand guard if you want.”
Snail scanned Black Turtle’s face. He’d been dreaming of little else since the first night he’d watched Flint rape her. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. Strongheart has gone to speak with Chief Horned Owl. Flint is in the Captives’ House. Who will know?” Black Turtle’s smile widened. “Providing, of course, that once you’re finished, you’ll return the favor and let me have a go at her.”
“You know I will,” he answered. “But I—I wonder what will happen to us if we get caught. I—”
“Stop worrying. I’ll warn you long before anyone gets near the house.”
Snail nervously wet his lips. He drew back the door curtain and peered through the slit. The chieftess had thrown off her blankets and lay naked on the sleeping bench, her legs spread, her damp skin gleaming in the firelight. A lustrous wealth of black hair had tumbled over the side of the bench and rested on the floor. “All right,” he said. “I’m going in.”
“Good. Be quick. I want my turn.”
Snail nodded and ducked beneath the curtain.
WHEN THE MOANING AND MUFFLED HALF-SCREAMS OF ecstasy stopped, Black Turtle surveyed the village and leaned close to the door curtain to say, “Snail? Are you finished?”
The drizzle had begun to die down, and he was afraid people would once again fill the plaza before he had his turn.
“Snail? Stop lying there panting! Come out.”
No one replied for several uneasy heartbeats; then from right on the other side of the curtain a soft female voice whispered, “I’m wet and ready for you, Black Turtle. Come inside … .”

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