She turned away and vanished inside the elm, not even stopping to retrieve the cushion she had dropped.
Magiere couldn't tell if it was rage or the forest's influence that made her tremble. The pieces of this game were still unclear to her.
Nein'a had trained Leesil without love-without a conscience. She had birthed him for a "purpose," as the Anmaglahk called all their missions and dark tasks.
Chap had suggested that Nein'a and others among the Anmaglahk wanted to thwart Most Aged Father. Or at least choose their own way to deal with some forgotten adversary their leader feared would return. For their own reasons, they wanted a half-blood for this. Perhaps they needed someone outside of their people as well as their caste. Leesil's mother had secretly trained him against the rules of her order.
Nein'a didn't love Leesil as a son, though he loved her as his mother.
Sorrow welled in Magiere as she swatted the ferns aside and strode out through the woods' passage. She would love Leesil enough to make up the difference.
Leesil glanced up as Brot'an returned with an armload of firewood and small dead branches for kindling.
"I cannot see what else to try," Wynn was saying.
"Where's Magiere?" Leesil asked Brot'an.
"Gathering more wood.She will return shortly."
Leesil rose to his feet and looked toward the elves' camp. He counted them and made certain all were present. They were, and relief from fear unleashed his anger. About to bark at Brot'an for stupidity, he held his words a moment longer. It didn't make sense that Brot'an would leave Magiere unattended.
How long had he been distracted by Wynn's experiences with Nein'a? His stomach churned each time he thought of his mother's greeting-or lack of it. He started off to find Magiere.
"She will return directly," Brot'an said. "Help me start the fire."
Leesil didn't wish to share even such a simple task with this man. But he crouched down, looking about repeatedly for any sign of Magiere.
The air grew damp, and the kindling was no better. Brot'an struck flint to a short stub of steel he produced, but it took a while to get decent flames started. Wynn fell to peeling bisselberries and cracking walnuts left beside the tree. Finally, Leesil heard footfalls crunching in the forest mulch. Magiere appeared but carried only three branches.
"Is that all you found?" Wynn asked.
Magiere didn't answer. Leesil took the branches and dropped them beside the fire.
"She's tired," he said, and pointed Magiere toward a large redwood a dozen paces off. "We're going over there to rest. Wynn, stay with Chap. Try to get some sleep."
"But you will be away from the fire," Wynn argued.
Leesil expected a challenge from Brot'an, but the man didn't even stand up.
"We should all rest," Brot'an said. "Find what comfort you can, but stay within my sight."
Leesil pushed Magiere on.Within sight, indeed. He wasn't about to leave Wynn alone in the scarred elf's company. He only wanted to be out of earshot. When he went to settle against the redwood, Magiere pulled back.
"Let's just sit in the open," she said and dropped down, waiting for him.
The forest grew darker with scant daylight, but she didn't seem to care. So he crouched and dropped to his haunches beside her.
"This isn't what you expected, is it?" she whispered. "You thought she'd be grateful to see you after all this time-no matter what happened when you escaped from Venjetz."
Is that what made her so quiet and withdrawn-worry for him? No, there was something more. He could sense it.
"No, not what I expected," he answered. "Nothing we do turns out as we plan. It's like my childhood never happened, and she doesn't even know me."
Magiere's face grew tense and thoughtful, and she seemed reluctant to look at him. She had exposed her dhampir nature. The elves' reactions would cut her deeply, and she'd become the focus of their hatred more than he. He didn't care what she was. She was still Magiere. But was he what or who she would really want?
A thing-a tool-a weapon.She deserved more than that. Even his own mother rejected him as anything more.
"You're my blood, Leesil," Magiere whispered, "my family… all that I need."
Leesil's mind went blank, caught between her words and the fear of losing her. He looked at the black locks of hair hanging around her pale face.
"Marry me," she whispered, quick and sharp.
Leesil braced a hand upon the ground between his legs. He grew almost faint as the weight of the day and everything that had happened vanished and left him light-headed.
In this place, surrounded by so little hope and so many threats for the future…
He couldn't think straight, her two words echoing over and over in his emptied mind.
"No," he blurted out.
Magiere lifted her head, her eyes round with shock.
"Yes, I mean… no," he fumbled. "I mean…"
Any other time he'd made an ass ofhimself, she'd turned livid, ready to club him for his stupidity. But Magiere just sat there in startled pain.
As if he'd struck her.
Leesil grabbed Magiere's face and pressed his mouth hard to hers. She wrestled free, nearly shoving him over. Confusion mixed with a hint of her old ire.
"Yes," he said quickly. "I mean yes… but no, not here and not now."
Oh, how he had botched things again. But Magiere's brows softened quickly.
"Can't you see?" he rushed on, and grabbed both her hands, holding them tightly. "I don't want it like this, not among enemies. Not until we're home again with Karlin and Caleb and maybe Aunt Bieja. That's where it should happen.Where it can be the right day-a celebration.The finest day of our lives."
Two tears slid down Magiere's face."A celebration?"
"With dancing," he added.
She slipped her arms around his neck, clutching him so hard he couldn't breathe.
Chap stayed with Wynn, eyeing Brot'an, though he knew Leesil would not move out of sight. He tried to understand Nein'a's unexpected behavior.
Unlike Leesil, Chap had never anticipated an open welcome. The Nein'a that he remembered was cunning and cautious. So much so that Chap had always had difficulty in dipping even one memory from her thoughts. Brot'an and even Eillean were much the same. All three were adept at keeping their minds clear of triggered memories that would interfere with their focus upon what must be done. But Nein'a should be doing everything in her power to help freeherself. Her refusal to leave perplexed Chap.
Wynn scooted closer to the fire and tried to stuff her small hands up her tunic's opposing sleeves. Brot'an appeared to be rearranging his own attire beneath his gray-green cloak. Chap heard clinking metal and wondered what the elf was doing.
He would not trust Brot'an, but his estimation of the man grew less certain. Brot'an served his own agenda, but he had placed himself between Magiere and his caste. He had also managed to keep Leesil under control, without letting their past conflict boil into the open.
Brot'an glanced across the low flames at Wynn and stripped off his heavy cloak. The sleeves of his green tunic were pulled down, but Chap caught no signs of weapons on his wrists. Brot'an stepped around the fire and draped his cloak over the small sage. Wynn jumped slightly.
"Sleep," he told her, and he slid down to sit against the tree behind the sage.
"Thank you," Wynn said, formally polite. "I left Chane's… my cloak back in Crijheaiche. Will you not be cold?"