Until then, there’s nothing to do but wait.
I hate waiting, because it means I have time to think by the Big Fire. Far too much time.
I’m thankful when Remy drops in beside me, his presence instantly calming my frayed nerves.
“Can you believe they thought Gard wanted that guy’s sister to marry me?” he says, a smile playing on his lips.
I smile back. “You only wish it were that easy to find a wife,” I say.
He laughs. “True. The type of girl I’m interested in is much more of a challenge.” His words are as light as the air, but I find myself breathless, almost like when I first spoke to him in the stables. It seems like so long ago. A lifetime. No, three lifetimes: my mother’s and father’s, and his cousin’s.
I gulp down a breath and say, “Really? Anyone in particular in mind?”
His eyes dance with laughter, although he keeps his lips straight. “Well, there is this Healer apprentice on the east side of camp,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, unable to stop the word from spilling out. I flush, turn away, try to hide the embarrassment that surely stains my cheeks.
“I’m kidding,” Remy says, laughing with his whole body. He touches my arm, his fingers burning into my skin. “I’ve only ever thought of you in that way.”
~~~
After Remy’s mad and unexpected declaration, I take my leave, making some excuse about having to water Passion, even though I already watered her three times.
I walk alone, my mind spinning with Remy and the foreigners and war war war! My heart beats with each step as I squeeze my fists and push, first Remy, and then war, out of my thoughts. The word foreigners, however, lingers like a vapor in the air, and I find myself standing in front of the prison tent.
The Rider on guard looks at me curiously. “Sadie?” she says.
“I want to see the prisoners,” I say unnecessarily, as she’s already moved aside.
I step inside, my eyes quickly adjusting to the darker tent-filtered lighting within. Feve and Dazz stare at me. The skinny girl and the smiley pale guy also turn to look. The muscly girl and the unmarked guy are tied to the opposite side, facing away.
“The one who would stab first and ask questions later,” Dazz says, but it’s not an insult, just a joke.
I allow myself a thin smile. “Says the one who would walk into an enemy camp demanding answers.”
“We got them, didn’t we?”
Something tells me his cavalier attitude has carried him this far and he won’t abandon it anytime soon. I stride inside, allowing my robe to whirl around me the way my mother’s always did.
I move past Feve, settle in front of the skinny girl. “I’m Sadie. Your name?”
“Siena,” she says. “I’ll take a bundle of pointers and a tight-strung bow.”
I laugh. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen. Old enough to have a kid but I’ll skip that if it’s all the same to you.”
I almost choke on her words. Old enough for a child? Having a family of my own is the last thing on my mind. I say, “I’m nearly sixteen. And I’ll skip the kid for now too. You’ll get your bow and arrows—I promise.”
“I’m Skye,” her sister says. “I’d shake yer hand, but seein’ as how mine’s tied to a pole…”
“I’m not going to untie you,” I say. “Can you fight?”
“Like nothing you ain’t ever seen,” Siena says, answering for her.
“We’ll see about that,” I say. But inside I’m thinking, If not for the color of their skin, which is three shades too light, these two could be my sisters.
Continuing around the prisoner circle, I come to the unmarked brown-skinned guy. “And you are…” I say.
“Circ,” he says. Up close, I notice that Circ is built like a Rider, tall and cut like stone.
“You’re a warrior?” I guess.
“We say Hunter,” he says.
“Can you ride?”
“Ride what?”
“A horse. A steed. A stallion.”
“Can tugs sprout wings and fly like searin’ angels?” Siena says from around the pole.
I think that’s a no, but I look to Circ for confirmation. He flashes a smile and shakes his head. “She meant no, but rarely does Siena just come out and say something directly. That’s one of the many reasons I love her.” His calm and unquestionable declaration of love for the skinny girl on the other side of the tent pole takes me by surprise. For better or worse, my people don’t speak of love so easily.
Should love be declared as casually and easily as plucking a flower from off a stem? Or is it something to be held on to, like a gemstone, brought out only on the rarest and most special occasions, whispered like a secret to only the most deserving of ears?
Either way, I feel the truth of Circ’s words and I envy him. Siena, too. They seem so sure of themselves; whereas the only thing I’m sure of is my calling as a Rider.
I move on to the second pale-skinned person in the room, the one sitting next to Dazz. He’s shorter and softer around the edges than the other males. I open my lips to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Buff,” he says. “That’s my name. And before you ask whether I’d like to go with you to the campfire and sip on ’quiddy and nibble on bear fritters, or whatever it is you eat around here, I have to decline, with regret. You see, I’ve got a lovely lady waiting back in ice country for me. I’d hate to disappoint her, even for a pretty little thing like you.”
I’m speechless. Has the whole world gone mad and started saying every last thing on its mind? I try to collect my thoughts, my cheeks on fire. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to ask you any such thing,” I say.
“Weren’t you?” Buff says.
“No.”
“My mistake.” He shrugs, like it was nothing more than a misunderstanding.
“And I’m spoken for,” I add quickly.
“You are?”
“I am.” Am I? Remy’s words burn in my ears. I’ve only ever thought of you in that way.
I desperately want to divert the attention away from me. “And what about you?” I say to Dazz.
“What about me what?” he asks. His thin beard makes him look older than I suspect he is. Through the layer of facial fur, there’s a youthful face, strangely without color. Between him and Buff, they’re the first light-skinned people I’ve been this close to. I almost want to reach out and touch him to see if he breaks, shatters into a thousand pieces like glass.
“Are you spoken for?” I ask, not because I have any interest in him, but because it seems to be a popular topic of conversation amongst the group.
“Who’s askin’?” Skye says, the answer in her sharp tone.
“Oh, so you two are…I mean you’re…”
“Together,” Dazz says. “Yes, Skye and I are a thing.”
“What do you mean a thing,” Skye says, twisting her neck to shoot a glare at Dazz.
“Don’t get your pretty little lady-skivvies all twisted up,” Dazz says. “It’s just something we say in ice country when you’re exclusively with one girl.”
“That better be what yer sayin’,” Skye says. “Or I’ll knock you out, just like I did when we first met.” I have to raise a hand to hide my laugh at their banter. I can picture Skye clocking Dazz, leaving a dark bruise on his cheek and his ego.
I still can’t believe I’m talking to Heaters and Icers. It’s like the earth has been raised on an angle, and all the tribes of the earth have slid down, down, down, all the way to the ocean.
The only one who hasn’t spoken since I entered is Feve, the marked man. I stand in front of him now. “Since you’re so curious about all of our personal lives, yes, I’m spoken for. Married, with a family.” Although his words surprise me—I didn’t think a man so serious and mysterious-looking would be so…settled—it’s not what I was going to ask.
“What do your markings mean?” I ask, wishing I could see them all. No one in my tribe marks themselves, probably because our skin is already so dark we wouldn’t be able to see it.