“I had been alarmed when no one could honor his offer.” She ripped another section. “But — but — but—” She clenched the fabric tight. “These new domana: Darkness, Sunder, and Cana Lily. They come straight from Diamond, the bitch who not only gave birth to that sniveling rat Earth Son but also sent him to Pittsburgh.”
Clearly in Cattail’s mind, Diamond was still in full command of the Stone Clan. After all that Oilcan and Tinker had learned in the last few days, it was possible, though, that Diamond was just an unknowing puppet for the Skin Clan.
“Not a single fucking one of these newly arrived Stone Clan domana carries an explanation — an offer of compensation — or even so much as an apology from Diamond. We — the children that her son lured out into the wilderness and gave to the oni to torture, rape, kill, and eat — are beneath her notice. Another clan has to rescue the living, give the dead up to the sky, and see to all our needs? Well, fuck the Stone Clan. I’m more than fine to be Wind Clan. I’m happy.”
She was right. No matter who had been behind the children’s betrayal — the Stone Clan had continued to fail them.
He reached out to hug her, but she flinched away angrily and tore another length of the broadcloth. “You’ll have your dream,” he promised. “With the extra money of sponsorship, we’ll turn the library into a boutique where you can sell clothes.”
He started to turn toward the door, and she lunged and caught hold of him in a fierce hug.
“I am happy,” she whispered. “I’m just too mad at them to show it.”
Letting him go, she stalked away, the strips of fabric still tight in her hand, fluttering in her storm wind.
Rustle of Leaves and Merry were in one of the little back rooms patiently crafting a hunk of ironwood into an olianuni for Rustle. Apparently a fifty-year apprenticeship included how to build instruments from scratch. Considering that an olianuni would wear out in a dozen years from constant use and that elves lived forever, it probably was a good thing. Luckily Merry still had all her tools that she had brought with her to Pittsburgh.
Halfway through his explanation, Merry reached out for Rustle, and he took her hand. Oilcan pushed on even though his stomach was doing sickening flip-flops.
The doubles glanced at each other.
“If Moser had taken me in, I would have been Wind Clan,” Rustle said to Merry.
“My home is Pittsburgh,” Merry said. “Where you are.”
Rustle grinned and wrapped his arms around her. “We are Pittsburgh.”
That left only one person, the one he was most afraid of losing. He was worried he might have already lost her by not speaking his heart.
Thorne Scratch hadn’t come to his room the night before. He had been painfully aware of her absence. And like an idiot, he’d done what he’d always done and not gone after the female he had come to love. Jewel Tear was just down the hall, battered and needy, and without a Hand. Had Thorne Scratch assumed he didn’t want her and offered to Jewel Tear instead?
He found her among the sheets in the backyard, practicing alone like the first time he’d seen her. Unlike that time, she was barefoot, wearing only glove-tight pants and a camisole, hair unbraided. Her ponytail formed a wonderful exclamation point over perfection in snug cotton.
He watched her move, serenely fierce, and ached with the possibility that she might never be his again.
She turned, sword in attack position, and saw Oilcan. Her lips turned upward into a Mona Lisa smile as she gazed over the blade at him. Behind her the brilliant white sheets rose to snap in the wind. He would paint that moment so he would always have her.
She blushed slightly and sheathed her ejae. In her wonderfully husky voice, she said, “You always look at me as if I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.”
“You are.”
Her blush deepened. “No, no, I’m not.”
Oilcan reached out and caught her callused hand.
She stared down at their joined hands in horror. “How awful I am,” Thorne whispered. “I looked at your face and was secretly glad that I would not lose you so soon, but this is not your hand.”
He brought her hand up to rest on his chest. “This is my heart; it has not changed.” She curled her fingers until she gripped his shirt tight. He forced himself to finish. “I am Wind Clan.”
She laughed in surprise and then leaned her forehead against his to look deep into his eyes. “Oh, yes, there you are. I see you now.”
“Be my First.”
Her eyes went wide, but then she looked away, shaking her head. “You should ask a Wind Clan sekasha to be your First. You will need a full Hand, and the Wind Clan sekasha will not accept a Stone Clan First.”
He took joy in that she had not said “No.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. “If they will not accept you, I do not want them.”
Her emotions warred on her. He was afraid to press her, because she would take it wrongly, but also afraid that he wasn’t pushing because he was falling into the same old habit. So he put it out, cold and frank, all that he felt.
“I’m scared that I’m going to lose you. I love you. I want you to be with me. Always.”
She dropped her head to his shoulder, and they stood twined together, pressed close. “I love you, too, you idiot,” she finally whispered. “It makes me weak. I shouldn’t let you be so stupid as to bind yourself to one like me.”
“I won’t let you talk me out of it.”
She lifted her hand to smack him lightly on the chest but then kissed him as if he was the thing she needed most to live.
48: KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
Sacred Heart was a humming beehive of activity but in a happy, peaceful way. There were sekasha laughing in the gym as they taught Blue Sky some wicked looking moves. The young lovers were in the dining room, practicing music with Moser’s band. The smell of something rich and spicy wreathed the whole place with bounty.
Tommy had brought his younger cousins to help with the rebuilding on the stated theory that it was better for them to meet people outside his family instead of being hidden away like something shameful. And yeah, that was one reason. But it gave him a good excuse to be in the building.
Once he was sure his cousins were under Cattail Reeds’ artistic supervision, Tommy slipped unnoticed upstairs to the third floor and moved cautiously down the hall to the end room where he knew Jewel Tear was staying. The door stood open, seeming to welcome all comers, but he had heard that Jewel Tear had been quiet and withdrawn. The elves were giving her space to put her ordeal behind her.
He wasn’t sure of how she would react to him, but he wanted to see her again. He told himself that he was a fool — that she had made herself clear days ago — but want was eating at him.
She was at the window, looking down into the backyard. She wore a dress obviously by Cattail Reeds. It was a flirty splash of bright yellow that only came to midthigh in the front but trained down in the back nearly to her bare feet. Seeing her there in the light did all sorts of strange and painful things to his insides.
She put her hand to the glass and smiled radiantly at someone in the backyard. Tommy’s insides twisted hard with jealous anger. He ghosted forward, needing to know whom she was waving at.
Spot was in the backyard with Baby Duck. The little elf female had crowned him with dandelions as brilliant yellow as Jewel Tear’s dress against his black fur. They had the chickens in their laps and were hand-feeding them while Baby Duck talked earnestly to Spot.