Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,95

felt it in the pulsations of the vial against his chest. It would be a relief to find a familiar place, one he’d seen in dreams and when the Shaman showed him the way, but he wondered what kind of people had lived in a village in the haunted land. The thought raised goose flesh on his arms.

Ahead, the seductive wiggle of Elyea’s hips was gone, suppressed by her attempt to keep mud from pulling the boots from her feet. Khirro shook his head. He didn’t understand women at the best of times, and she was no normal woman. Was she attracted to Ghaul or simply seeking physical satisfaction? How could he possibly fathom the motivations of a woman thrust into the life of a concubine before her first bleed?

She views her body as a commodity, something to trade for food, to earn a living with. Or maybe to say ‘thank you’ with.

He hadn’t thought of that before. What if he tried to say thank you to someone for saving his life, only to be rebuffed? She had good reason to feel slighted, for going to Ghaul, and for not speaking to him, if that was the case. Thinking this, he hurried forward, the broad leaves of a bush slapping his face and dumping water down his collar as he fell in to walk beside her.

Elyea looked at him as he matched her stride, her hair subdued by the rain except for a stray strand stuck to her forehead, directing the flow of water down her cheek. Khirro looked at her, at the water running down her face, distorting the freckles scattered across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. For the first time, he noticed her slight overbite and the bump on the bridge of her nose, but her eyes remained unchanged: emerald, intelligent. She wasn’t as pretty with her hair tamed by the rain, but somehow more beautiful, more real.

“I’m sorry,” he said looking at his feet.

“For what?”

“For the other night.”

She put a finger under his chin and raised his head so their eyes met.

“It’s all right. I couldn’t give you what you needed and you couldn’t give me what I needed. Maybe one day.”

A smile tugged the corner of Khirro’s mouth; his cheeks burned with embarrassment at her words and her touch. Sensing his discomfort, she moved her hand away and returned her eyes to the front. He did the same.

“You were right about Emeline,” he said, boot splashing in a deep puddle of muck. “I need to let her go. She was never mine.

“I know.”

He shook his head. “I just don’t know what happened.”

Elyea paused for a breath before responding. “Did you rape her?”

“No, I... I don’t think so.” He trudged along, expecting her to comment, to chastise him, but she didn’t. “We drank too much. I passed out.”

“Then you probably didn’t. In my experience, men don’t often forget their first time, no matter how much they drank. Nor do they perform well under those circumstances.”

“But if I didn’t, then who?”

“Could be anyone.” Her tone turned sour. “Maybe your father. Or hers. That would explain why they blamed you and sent you away.”

Khirro didn’t want to think about possibilities like those—they were somehow worse than being accused of rape. But Elyea was right that he’d likely never return to his village, and Emeline had said she didn’t want to see him again, so why spend time yearning for a dream never to come true? He stole a glance at Elyea. There were other women in the world, after all.

“Up here,” Ghaul shouted from ahead where he’d been scouting, his form a dark silhouette amongst gray trees a hundred yards away, ghostly arms waving over his head. “I’ve found the village.”

The village turned out to be eight broken down huts, uninhabited for an unimaginable number of years. Only one had enough roof left to provide cover from the rain which continued pounding down through the night. Water streamed in through a half dozen holes, muddying the dirt floor, forcing them to huddle in one dry corner. Athryn stood in the doorway taking his watch while the others tried to find sleep.

Khirro shifted on the hard floor, back pressed against the uneven stone wall. Elyea lay in front of him, her breathing soft and steady, already asleep. He felt her lying close, her breath stirring his hair, the smell of her wet clothes filling his nostrils. He wanted to caress her, but fought to control the