“Does defense always result in a death?”
Oh, hoolies. How to answer that. “I think you would do best to ask one of the sword-dancers bent on killing me. I don’t seek it. I don’t desire it. I don’t like it. But I will stay alive. No matter what it takes.”
He nodded, somewhat distracted, still turning things over in his head. And he needed to do it on his own. “The mare wants your attention again,” I told him. “Best give it to her.”
He knew the subject was at an end for the evening. He turned back to the mare slowly, then began rubbing once again with the sacking. I left him to it.
Del saw it at once. She watched me return from Neesha, stood up before I could sit down. She reached out and took my hand, led me away.
We stood beneath the rising moon. Dusk had become night. Behind us, the fire died to coals. “What is it?”
It echoed what I’d asked Neesha. But my answer was different. “I think I’ve lost him.”
“No. Never. I’ve told you this before.”
“I don’t know, bascha. It’s different. He’s different—”
“He killed a man.”
“In battle. It’s different when a raider is coming at you. Over the past week, he’s seen what my life is like. He doesn’t seem to understand that it is unlike any sword-dancer’s in the South. That it will always be. No one, not a single sword-dancer who lived at Alimat, has ever sworn elaii-ali-ma.” I raised a hand to quiet her before she blamed herself for that. “What I did that day, and what I do now, is what I see fit to do. But it’s nothing the shodo ever taught us.”
“You haven’t lost him, Tiger. He’s simply learning his way.” We stood very close, hands linked. “You learned at Alimat, driven by circumstances to become the best. I learned at Staal-Ysta because I was driven by circumstances, as well. We’ve both had hard lives. It wasn’t our choices to do so, but these lives drove us to become what we are.” She released my hand, slid her hand up my back and stroked it. Rather like Neesha and the mare, come to think of it. “He made his choice when he sought you. You’ll never lose him.”
It struck me that we’d had this conversation before. But it seemed to be something I couldn’t let go. “Two years ago he wasn’t in my life. I didn’t even know he existed. In most ways, he’s still a stranger to me. Why, then, am I afraid to lose him?”
“How long did it take you to fall in love with me?”
That was unexpected. And baffling. “What?”
“How long did it take you to fall in love with me?”
“Uhhh…I don’t know.” Not comforting, but she wanted the truth. “I never thought about it.”
“You wanted to bed me the moment I walked into the cantina. Later, you loved me.”
I was all at sea, and somewhat plaintive with it. “Del, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“You fell in love with your son, Tiger. You met him one day wholly unexpectedly, the way you met me. And at some point, you fell in love with him. Came to love him. It’s entirely normal for you to fear losing what you love.” She wound an arm around mine, clasped my hand. “But don’t assume you will lose me, lose Neesha. Because you won’t.”
I thought about that a moment, then let it go and thought of something else entirely. “I wish we were at home. In private.”
Del laughed. “We could drag our blankets off into the desert.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Del got there first.
“But you’re old. We should get a room in Istamir tomorrow. One with a bed.”
I laughed. Then I unwound my arm from her, unclasped my hand, and took her into my arms. Whereupon I kissed her as hard as I could. And she kissed me back.
“Well,” Del said once we broke apart. “Perhaps we should drag our blankets off into the desert.”
I rested my forehead against hers. “Let’s.”
Back under the tree, we bundled up our bedrolls. Neesha grinned as we did so. White teeth, in the moonlight, glowed against his face. “I wondered how long it would take you. Can’t keep your hands off one another.”
“And you,” I said, “are jealous.”
He hooted briefly. “We’ll be in Istamir tomorrow. I’ll have my itch scratched then.” He paused a moment. “Many itches, and many scratchings thereof.”
“You men,” Del chided. “You must always make it into a competition.”
She and I carried our bedrolls some distance away, finding a little privacy by putting the wagons between us and everyone else.
Some time later, our legs entwined, hips touching, breath upon one another’s face, I said quietly, “No time at all.”
“‘No time’? What ‘no time’?”
“To fall in love with you.”
“Well, I knew that.”
“When did you fall in love with me?”
“Who says I did? Maybe you’re just—convenient.”
I pressed my brow against the blanket. “Sharper than a sword, I swear. Women always wound.”
“It took me somewhat longer than you,” Del said. “I was driven. Obsessed. There was no room in my heart for a man. For love. Not after Ajani. Not with my brother missing. And you were less loveable at first.”
“Wounding, again!”
“You were a pig of a Southroner.”
“That’s no improvement, bascha!”
“Well, you were,” she said matter-of-factly. “And spoiled by all of the Southron women.”
“Spoiled?”
“Oh, hoolies, Tiger—they fell at your feet. I was there, remember? I saw it!” She tossed her hair aside as she rolled onto her back. “But mostly…I didn’t know how to fall in love.”
“Or fall at my feet.” Belly-down, I rested my chin on crossed arms. “I don’t think you ever have, come to think of it.”
“Fallen at your feet?”
“Yes.”
“Only when I trip.”
Chapter 15
A LONG DAY’S RIDE TO ISTAMIR. The further north we went, the more plentiful the trees, occasionally huddling together in thickets. Groundcover, often abloom, was abundant with vegetation, shrubbery, vines twisting around tree trunks. The grass slowly turned from pale green prairie growth to a lush, deep, vivid green, short enough that the wagons moved through it smoothly. Good grazing; I well understood why Neesha’s stepfather had built his horse farm in such surroundings.
At one point, as we ate our midday meal in the saddle, Neesha mentioned that if we turned due west, a half day’s ride would deliver us to the farm. Later, I rode up from the back of the last wagon to join him and asked if he’d rather break off from us now and go ahead to the farm while Del and I escorted the caravan into Istamir.
A faint frown puckered his brows. “My job is to ride all the way into Istamir.”
“I’m sure Del and I can handle things.”
“I did kill one of those borjuni, you know.”
It wasn’t a brag. What it was, I didn’t quite understand for a moment, and then I grasped it. It was a subtle defensiveness, an attempt to remind me he had proved his worth as an outrider, as someone who could contribute. Hastily, honestly, I said, “No, no, I only meant it would be less time for you to ride over there from here. That’s all.”
His brow smoothed as he smiled. “There are women in Istamir.”
Oh. That. I grinned at him. “Say no more.”
He rode the roan mare, his bay gelding tied to the back of the last wagon. When not watching for raiders, he spent time assessing nearly every step she took, how her ears twitched, how she registered the world, and how often; was she a smooth goer, or so intent on proving herself—rather like Neesha, come to think of it—that she could not relax. All the minutiae that goes into finding out if a horse will work for a rider it doesn’t know, and how. Was it war? Was it docility? Was it something in between? The stud was never docile, but not always at war. He could walk out in a long, smooth, ground-eating stride. He just didn’t do it often enough.