Chakatie raised one bloody claw as if offering to slash Frere-Jones to pieces.
Frere-Jones glared back at her mother-in-law. “It’s not for me. My land infected a new anchor.”
Chakatie lowered her claws and stared at Frere-Jones in puzzlement before a grin slowly emerged around her fangs. “I guess that’s… good news. Who is it?”
“I’d prefer to see if she survives before naming her,” Frere-Jones said, bluffing. Chakatie’s blood-and-musk scent was stomach-gagging strong in her nostrils.
“Of course.” Chakatie powered down her body slightly. “I apologize for saying that about Colton. If my land had betrayed me like yours did with Haoquin, I may have done as you.”
This was the closest Chakatie had ever come to saying she agreed with Colton becoming a day-fellow. Frere-Jones thanked her.
“Don’t thank me yet. The senior anchors have been saying you’ve lost your ability to protect your land. A few even suggest we… select a new anchor.”
Frere-Jones snarled. “And I’m sure you didn’t have someone in mind? Perhaps one of your other sons or daughters?”
Chakatie tensed at the insult before smirking with a knowing nod. “You know I want nothing but love and happiness for you. But if the other anchors become intent on killing you, I’d prefer my own benefit.”
Frere-Jones sighed at her mother-in-law’s logic. There was a reason no one ever challenged Chakatie. She was likely the mightiest anchor in this part of the world.
Chakatie waved for her oldest son, Malachi, who trotted over. “Run home and bring six vials of medicine to Frere-Jones.” She nodded to Frere-Jones. “One extra in case it’s needed.”
Frere-Jones thanked Chakatie and turned to go, but Chakatie dared to place one of her giant clawed hands on her shoulder.
“Two warnings,” Chakatie whispered. “First, don’t be lying about what the medicine is for. If you try overdosing on it, I’ll make sure the grains keep you alive long enough for me to kill you.”
Frere-Jones nodded. “And?”
“The grains on your land have become increasingly agitated since Haoquin died. I fear they’re building to something which will harm you.”
“If they do, wouldn’t that be your fault? After all, you introduced me to Haoquin.”
Even as Frere-Jones said this she regretted the words. If she’d never met Haoquin her life would have been far poorer, assuming she’d even lived past her selecting ceremony. But Chakatie had avoided Frere-Jones ever since Colton become a day-fellow. Frere-Jones still loved Chakatie but also wanted to rip the woman apart for abandoning her, a feeling influenced no doubt by her grain-powered body’s fury.
Chakatie nodded sadly. “I think every day about the paths of Haoquin’s life. Still, what else can we do? We are ingrained in the land…” she said, beginning the most sacred oath of anchors.
“… and the grains are our land,” Frere-Jones finished.
Yet afterwards as Frere-Jones ran back to her land she wanted to claw her own tongue out for uttering such a lie. If it was within her power, she’d destroy every grain in both her land and body.
Not that such dreams mattered in the real world. And if Chakatie and the other anchors learned she was sheltering a day-fellow family, her dreams—and Haoquin’s—would never have a chance to come true.
“Don’t trust my mother,” Haoquin had said one morning a few weeks after they were married. He’d been bedridden that day as the grains from his old land deactivated and Frere-Jones’s grains established themselves. She’d given him several doses of medicine, which helped, and stayed by his side the entire time.
Since they couldn’t do much else, they lay in bed and talked. Frere-Jones had forgotten the joys of hearing someone talking to her in words instead of memories.
“I like your mom,” Frere-Jones said. “I mean, she did bring us together.”
“Oh, I like her. Hell, I love her. She’s the one who taught me to be wary of the grains. But she’s also not afraid to work the grains and the other anchors to her own advantage. Never forget that.”
Frere-Jones snuggled closer to Haoquin, who hugged her back. She remembered how Chakatie had been disgusted by Frere-Jones killing the day-fellows. Which had pushed Frere-Jones into a new attitude toward the grains. Which had eventually resulted in her marrying Haoquin.
No, she thought, pushing those memories from her mind. She refused to believe her life was merely a plaything of either Chakatie or the grains.
“You okay?” Haoquin asked.
“Just thinking about memories.” Frere-Jones ran her fingers across Haoquin’s bare stomach, causing him to shiver. “Like the memory of my fingers on you. The touch of my skin on yours. Someday all that will remain of these moments are the copies of our memories stored in the grains’ matrix.”
“I can live with that, Fre,” Haoquin said, calling her by that nickname for the first time. “Can you?”
Instead of answering Frere-Jones kissed him, her lips touching lips before fading into memory.
Frere-Jones gasped as she paused outside her house with the vials of medicine in her pocket.
She could hear Alexnya screaming inside. The last dose of medicine must be wearing off.
But why were the grains still showing her all these memories from Haoquin? They’d never done that before. In fact, the grains had taken care to lock away most of Haoquin’s memories for fear that they’d influence Frere-Jones in the wrong ways. So why were the grains now sharing them?
Frere-Jones shrugged off the question and opened the door to her house. She had to focus on saving the day-fellow girl.
Remember that, she thought. Remember what’s important.
After the next dose of medicine, Alexnya slept in fits for the day, waking every few hours to drink more. But when Frere-Jones stepped into the bedroom with a new dose the following evening, she found Alexnya sitting up in bed reading an old-fashioned paper book with her mother. Alexnya looked far better, no longer shaking or in pain. Frere-Jones tasted only the barest touch of the grains still inside the girl’s body.
“Hello Fre,” Alexnya said.
Frere-Jones nearly dropped the mug of medicine. The only one who’d ever called her Fre had been Haoquin.
“Alexnya, be polite,” Jun snapped. “Call her Master-Anchor Frere-Jones.”
“But she likes being called Fre…”
Frere-Jones sat on the bed beside Alexnya. “It’s not her fault. The grains communicate using snippets of memories from previous anchors. ‘Fre’ is what my lifemate used to call me.”
Jun paled but didn’t say anything. Alexnya frowned. “I’m sorry, Fre… Master-Anchor Frere-Jones,” the girl said. “I just want you to love me again. You used to love me.”
Frere-Jones ignored the girl’s obvious confusion at having her memories mix with the memories stored within the grains’ matrix. She handed Alexnya the mug of medicine. “Drink this,” she said.
The girl swallowed half the medicine. “The grains are angry,” Alexnya whispered as she wiped the red glow from her lips. “The grains don’t like you removing them from my body. They don’t like my family overstaying our welcome.”
“They won’t hurt your family without my approval.”
Alexnya didn’t appear convinced. “They’re also angry at you,” she said as she yawned. “Why are they angry at you?”
“Let me worry about my land’s grains. You need to sleep.”