“Of course,” she said. She fell into step beside me, took my hand and gave it a squeeze, but then she let go.
Last summer, she’d hardly let go of me at all. But then again, it had taken time for us to grow close, and perhaps we needed time again. Ina had never been afraid of me as so many of the other villagers were, but she had been visiting the mountain daily for almost a moon before her curiosity about me shifted into something else. I would never forget that night.
We’d been sitting by the bank of a creek that murmured its soft music to us in the dark. I had been telling her the names of all the constellations I knew, from the huntress and her arrow guiding travelers north to the war steed in the west galloping his way across the sky with the seasons. Our conversation had eventually turned to more personal things, and she told me her deepest fear—that she would fail to take the place of her parents as an elder—and I revealed to her my secret—that I wasn’t mortal. After my admission, her fingertips brushed my cheek. I turned to her, surprised, and her mouth found mine—as gentle and inevitable as the way twilight shifts into darkness, her lips still sweet from the plums we’d eaten after dinner.
That had been the first night she stayed with me. I still trembled to think of it, the newness, the way she’d touched me and I her, the awkwardness that quickly fell away as we figured out how our bodies fitted against each other. We’d kissed until we couldn’t keep our eyes open, and in the morning I laughed watching her try to find everything she needed to make a meal to break our fast, stubbornly refusing to let me help. Her passion and determination were as addictive to me now as they had been then.
“Will you stay awhile?” I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving yet, not with the heaviness of the news she’d brought with her.
She grinned at me sidelong as we walked up the path toward my cave. “I hoped you’d ask.”
When we got home, she sat down on one of the cushions in front of the hearth and took down her hair, unbraiding it until the black waves fell loose around her shoulders. I could hardly stop staring at her long enough to unpack my satchel and carefully stow my fresh picks in the deepest part of the cave, where they’d stay cool and preserved until I was ready to brew tinctures. I’d have to go to the lake for water to make more, but at least I could send Ina home with what remained of last year’s batch.
Ina patted the cushion beside her. Longing bloomed in my chest, burning more brightly than any of the blossoms I’d picked on the mountain. I walked over as though in a trance. How could one human girl hold so much power over a demigod?
“I missed you every day,” Ina said as I sat down.
“Did you?” I asked, and the look in her eyes made me forget what my mouth was for or how my limbs worked or what a thought was shaped like.
“Come closer and I’ll show you how much,” Ina whispered, her voice sweet as cream and honey.
When her warm lips touched mine, I remembered exactly what my mouth was for. The dark cloud of my worries and guilt temporarily receded as her closeness comforted me. She undressed me in front of the hearth, trailing hungry kisses down my neck until desire crashed through me in waves. We retreated to the back of the cave and spent the next hour rediscovering each other, charting new paths across each other’s bodies until they became familiar once again.
Afterward, I lay beneath thick piles of blankets as Ina ran her fingers through my hair, my worries creeping back in. It was midafternoon and already my eyelids were growing heavy. Yet I couldn’t afford to sleep, not now, not when the people of Amalska needed me.
“I should get those tinctures ready for you. You’ll need to leave before the sun gets close to the hills.” Emptiness crept in at the thought of her departure.
“Yes. My parents are under the impression that I’m out meditating and asking the spirit god for guidance. I didn’t tell them I was coming up here.”
“But what if something had happened?” I sat up. Her audacity shocked me.
Ina propped herself up on an elbow. “I told a friend where I went just in case. I might get a scolding from my parents, but they’ll be grateful for the tinctures. Besides, I wanted to see you.” She put a warm hand on my back, drawing shapes until gooseflesh rose on my arms.
I couldn’t help a small smile. “You shouldn’t disobey them. They already disapproved of how much time you spent up here last summer.”
“Bah,” Ina said. “I never heard you complaining.”
“Of course not,” I said. I wanted to tell her that no moment with her was wasted—that I loved her—but I bit back the words before they could escape. We had problems to deal with first. If we could make it to summer, banish the fever, and find a way to hold off the bandits . . . then there might be room for declarations and promises. I hoped there would be.
“Do your parents have a plan for handling the bandits if they attack?” I asked. I needed to be prepared if they expected me to play a role.
“They want to join forces with the nearby villages, like Nobrosk and Duvey. Once the fever has passed, they’re planning to invite some of them to help protect Amalska. We have land and goods to offer them in exchange, and stopping the bandits before they get farther north would benefit the other villages, too.”
“But what do you have to offer that isn’t already being traded?” It didn’t sound like enough. Many of the mountain villages shared or exchanged resources already.
Ina’s expression became guarded in a way I’d never seen before. Nervousness prickled across my skin like the bite of a stinging nettle.
“There’s one other thing.” She lay down on her back, staring up at the uneven rock of the ceiling.
An uncomfortable silence built between us. I pulled the covers tightly around myself as if they might shield me from whatever she was going to say.
“My parents want me to get married this summer,” she said. “To a boy from Nobrosk.”
CHAPTER 3
WITH INA’S WORDS MY HEART FROZE IN MY CHEST.
“I came to tell you as soon as I could,” she said, as though it would help. “His name is Garen. His manifest is a stag.” Her hesitant expression held none of the sorrow or disgust I would have liked to see. I didn’t know how to absorb her words.
“Oh,” I said, the only response I could manage. We’d never really talked about boys. Before Ina had entered my life, I’d nursed a hopeless crush or two on handsome hunters who had come to me and Miriel for tinctures—but ever since Ina I’d had no desire for anyone else.
“He arrived with the last fall caravan and stayed the winter. He’s the son of Nobrosk’s elders. My parents are pleased by the thought of a match that will facilitate trade and help defend us from the bandits.” She spoke the words with a familiarity that made it sound as though her fate was already decided.
My stomach clenched. All winter I had waited for her. For weeks I’d been making plans for the things we could do when the weather warmed again. An entire shelf in the back of my cave was devoted to the gifts for her I’d crafted to stay busy during our time apart—a polished bowl made of burled wood, honey hazelnut candy, and intricately braided deer-hide sandals.
Now I saw our future together vanishing more quickly than the melting snow.
“What do you think of him?” I asked, hoping that part of why she’d come was to escape, to tell me there was no one she loved more than me—to ask me to save her.
“Well, he has the grace of his manifest. He’s been quite respectful of my parents . . . and of me.” She glanced at me as though looking for permission to go on.