…the M’hir took him, spun him about, and left him…
…standing. He was standing. That was good.
And being held. He looked down, bemused to find Aryl clinging to him. That was better.
Cautiously, he probed at the new something inside. Definitely not the kind of link he’d shared with his mother.
This was—this was—
“You made me fall.” Aryl pulled back to glare at him. “I don’t believe it. You knocked us off the branch and made me fall.”
“I was falling, too,” Enris pointed out, trying not to smile. He also tried not to dwell on the indignant swell of her lower lip. Briefly. Then he leaned down to explore it more thoroughly with his own.
Which found her fingers. “We’re in Sona,” she told him. Her fingers traced his mouth then followed his jaw. “And this, my dear Chosen, is not allowed.” The lightest imaginable slap. “Yet.”
Chosen. The word sang along his nerves. The reality was like having her nestled by his side, instead of walking to a makeshift door to look out. The ache and need he’d managed to ignore might have never existed, save for how wonderful he felt right now. And how much more wonderful he planned to feel as soon as possible.
Aryl went out the door.
That wasn’t right.
Enris followed. “What do you mean…yet?”
“You two stay with me. That’s the way it is.”
There were more Tuana here, including his uncle’s family, a discovery that at any other time would have occupied his every thought.
Today? Enris looked at his cousin Ezgi, who shrugged, then back at Yuhas. “But we’re Joined.” He liked saying it. Loved feeling it. Every breath contained his awareness of Aryl, her joy to be aware of him. It drove the pain and grief to the shadows of his mind, like the rising of the sun.
He didn’t like being told he couldn’t go any closer than that feeling until Husni and the others said so.
His friend laughed. “We all go through it.” A fleeting sadness. “Your father endured me while I wanted for Caynen. It’s the least I can do for you.”
“How long?” It had been, to his mind, too long already.
“Until both are ready. I’m told Sarcs are—” Yuhas looked embarrassed. “They’re unpredictable.”
“Giving you trouble, Yuhas?” asked Galen sud Serona as he entered and put down a tray of steaming cups.
“I’m not,” his son said pointedly. “And I’ve waited longer.” This with a sigh.
His father’s older brother. The resemblance was there if he looked for it, Enris thought. The kindness of the eyes, the careful strength of the hands, the patience. He’d gone to Galen for the wood of his bench. He’d gone to him when Kiric slipped from his mind, unable to share that burden with his parents.
“I—” What could he say now? Their Clan had been destroyed. How dare he be so ridiculously happy? Enris fought for words to explain, to apologize, and failed.
Galen’s hand pressed his shoulder. It’s all they ever wanted for you. Aloud, “Find joy, Enris sud Sarc.”
“Just not yet,” Yuhas added hastily.
Chapter 19
ODD.
Aryl didn’t open her eyes, unwilling to lose the scent. Though how could there be dresel cake in Sona?
…because it’s the best day of your life, Daughter…
Mother?
Silence…she must have imagined the voice.
Though when did the pile of blankets the Sona called a bed become one, so comfortable her body was unwilling to move?
And that sound. A wysp, its three voices trilling an end to truenight. Nothing sang in Sona but the wind.
Wait…that was a giggle.
Her hair moved across her face.
Aryl brushed it away. A breeze.
Her hair moved again, this time slapping her cheek.
Not a breeze.
Another giggle.
Aryl sat up suddenly.
“I thought you’d never open your eyes.” Seru’s sparkled like fresh leaves in a sunbeam; her smile dimpled both cheeks. “Honestly, Cousin. I know Sarcs are different but two days?” She was sitting cross-legged on the end of Aryl’s bed. Her black hair, thicker, shinier, peeked over one shoulder, then spilled forward in a flood. “I think poor Enris is going to burst.”
Enris…?
Here! with a rush of joy and longing and impatience and…
Hush! she replied, trying to catch her breath.
I’ve been hushed all this time…along with images of years passing, harvests being harvested, children growing to adulthood, rocks weathering…I’ve suffered! with distinct glee.
“Ezgi pesters me, too,” Seru said matter-of-factly. “Just tell him Husni’s on her way.”
Husni…
I heard!!! Wild excitement.
He heard? Aryl frowned, very slightly. We’re going to have to talk about privacy, my dear Chosen.
I’m all for privacy… images of frankly incredible beds, fields of fragrant grass, even a brief glimpse of a wide branch, quickly dismissed for a simple blanket on snow. Can we be private now?
Hair caressed her cheeks and slipped around her neck. Opinionated stuff.
Seru giggled and bounced closer. “How do you feel? I feel—I feel wonderful.”
Feel. About to say she felt rested, if a little confused, Aryl stopped. “I feel—I’ve never felt like this.” It was true. Her body was aglow with strength. The accustomed aches, including the one in her left elbow, were gone. She wasn’t hungry, or tired, or cold. But she was, she discovered, looking down, different. “I’m lumpy.”
Seru pressed her hands against her own new breasts. “Aren’t they wonderful? And we’ve hips, too!”
“So long as they don’t interfere,” Aryl muttered to herself.
Show me and I’ll tell you…
HUSH! she sent, feeling heat suffuse her face from eyebrows to throat. And elsewhere.
Enris, wisely, didn’t comment. Aryl smiled to herself.
“Is it wrong?” Seru leaned forward, her smile gone. “To be so happy? All those Om’ray, dead. Naryn and the rest—they’re being brave. Most of them. But I feel—” another giggle burst out, rekindling the smile, “—I just can’t feel guilty or sad.”
“Don’t try.” Myris stepped through the door, followed by Husni. “Your happiness is a gift to all of us. If there’s a future, it’s here, with you four.”
“There’s a future,” Aryl said, making it a promise.
How you glow, her aunt sent softly.
“I will have bathing!” Husni declared. “It’s bad enough you, young Sarc, had to go off and Join away from everyone else. At least you had the sense to come home to commence! Now. There will be respect for tradition if I have to hold the both of you down myself!”
Seru peeled herself off the bed. “Yes, Husni.”
Aryl’s hair twitched with annoyance. It didn’t help that she could feel Enris laughing. “There isn’t water to waste—” the words died in her throat as Ziba came through the door with her mother, Taen. Both held a cup in one hand, a cloth in the other.
Then Veca and Juo. Morla and Weth. Oswa and little Yao hovered in the doorway until Haxel swept them both through with her.
Naryn and Caynen.
Oran.
The rest of the Tuana: Menasel and Beko, Cien and Lymin, the sisters and their mother, Stryn.
All wore their best, or what they could find to be their best. All held a cup and cloth. They formed a generally solemn semicircle before the beds, though Yao giggled and Ziba couldn’t stand still.