Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,1
made me stand out, and as a slave, standing out was the last thing you wanted. The thought of cutting it off would often cross my mind, but when it came down to it, I could never do it. Something just felt so inherently wrong about it. So I kept my dark hair, and I endured the extra beatings, knowing I was different for a reason, and I had made peace with the fact that I would never know the reason why. Except, now I do.
“Yes, you’re right,” I reply absentmindedly, glancing down at the new tribal tattoo wrapped around my right forearm, the skin still red and inflamed. She is right—it is a happy occasion. Then why am I filled with trepidation? Nerves are normal, that’s all this is. Nerves, I reassure myself, looking down at my arm once again. The movement pulls my hair from Vida’s hands, and she makes a loud, frustrated huffing sound as my hair falls around my shoulders, ruining the careful braiding she had been in the middle of. “I’m sorry.” I immediately sit forward, moving to turn in my seat and apologise, but her hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes firmly, stilling my movements. Her booted footsteps sound behind me, and soon enough, she appears by my side and leans against the table in front of me.
She’s silent as she runs her eyes over me, her arms crossed, her expression serious. Under her gaze, I feel stripped bare, but I hold her stare, letting her see me for who I am.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” the tribeswoman asks as she observes me, but she surprises me when I don’t hear any judgement in her tone. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks for you.” Laughing at her understatement, I lean back in my chair as I think over her question. Am I really ready for this? I ask myself. The same doubts have plagued my mind ever since my aunt questioned me the night after the attack. Except the same reasoning keeps coming back to me, and as I look down, instead of my tattooed right arm, my gaze falls on my goddess marked left arm. Well, it’s too late to back out now.
“I’m ready,” I lie, lifting my head, my smile tight as I try to keep my breathing even. She gazes at me with that same dubious expression, raising a single eyebrow when I don’t back down. For a second, I think she’s going to say something, to challenge me, but then her eyes flick to my wrist where she sees my slave marks. Revna, my aunt and the High Chief of the Mountain Tribes, said I shouldn’t hide them any longer, that I have nothing to be ashamed of. I agree, but it’s a hard habit to break, and I have to fight to hold my ground, a bead of sweat rolling down my spine as her eyes linger on my marks. The seconds tick by, and when she finally looks back up at me, something that resembles respect flickers in her gaze.
“Okay.” She shrugs before pushing away from the table and making her way behind me, her hands returning to my hair. Surprise makes me silent, and I’m sure my confusion shows on my face, because her low chuckle rolls over me. “You may be tiny, and you may not know how to fight, but you survived what many of us would not have.” My body stills as she speaks, her low, slightly accented voice calming me as her gentle tugs pull at my hair. “I saw you with the forsaken the day of the fight.”
Her pause is heavy, her hands stilling for a second, and I know we are both remembering the battle with the forsaken, how no matter how hard you hit them, their broken bodies wouldn’t stay down. The only way to destroy them was to cut off their heads and burn the bodies. A chill runs down my spine, and my mouth is suddenly dry at the change of topic. “I spoke with Tor afterwards. He told me he got into trouble. That you saved him,” Vida continues, her fingers weaving a golden ribbon through the braids she painstakingly put in place. “You deserve that tattoo on your arm. You are one of us.” My chest constricts at her words, and although I don’t know her well, I hadn’t realised how much I needed to hear this.