Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,4
like them now.” Fighting my laugh, I watch in amusement as Vida blinks and switches her attention to Naril. Until now, she’s been watching me with Tor, a slight knowing look on her face, but now she’s glaring at the elf like he’s a bug she just stepped on. This should be interesting.
Arching a single dark brow, Tor turns to stare at the elf. “What’s wrong with smelling like me?”
To his credit, Naril doesn’t back down as he stares up at the huge, muscular mountain tribesman. “Oh, nothing,” he drawls with a sweet as sugar smile. “If you don’t mind smelling like an animal.” There’s a pause, and it’s so quiet in the tent you could hear a pin drop, but I can’t hold it back any longer. A snorting, braying, horrendously unattractive laugh rips its way from me.
“I-I’m—I…S-Sor—” Everyone is looking at me, and the more I try to stop laughing, the more it keeps coming. Tears roll down my face, and my lungs are burning. It’s not funny, not really, but the stress of the last couple of weeks has impacted us in different ways. I needed this, and as I glance at Naril through my tear-filled eyes, even though he’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, I know he did this on purpose. Taking a few deep breaths, I try to pull myself together. Vaeril stays quiet in the corner of the tent, his arms crossed over his chest, but he silently sends me his strength through the bond, his eyes saying everything he doesn’t voice.
Tor reaches out and brushes a hand across my cheek, smiling down at me, his expression sad. He knows how much the attack cost me, and that although I agreed to this ceremony, I’m not doing it for me. Lowering his hand, he turns and levels a glare at Naril, but it’s lacking any malice. “If today wasn’t so important, I would challenge you,” he comments, then tilts his head to one side like he’s contemplating something. “In fact, I still might.”
Vida snorts, and I see she’s shaking her head like Tor’s just said a hilarious joke. Naril doesn’t seem too concerned about whatever is going on, still checking out his nails, and Vaeril continues watching me, not really paying attention to the others in the room, only occasionally throwing his friend a disparaging look. I’m missing something here. “Challenge him?”
Vida decides to take pity on me and lets out a huff of frustration when Tor doesn’t immediately drop the idea. “In our culture, if someone slights us, we can issue a challenge to them. It’s a formal fight in front of all the tribes,” she explains, and I glance at Naril to see how he’s taking this news. His eyebrows are raised, but he’s nodding along and appears more intrigued than worried, like he’s looking forward to a challenge. I gaze over to Vaeril for help, but the look he gives me tells me everything—once Naril has an idea in his head, there is no stopping him.
“They don’t happen often anymore, since the consequences are great. The loser is often shunned from their tribe,” Vida continues, her frown turning disapproving when Tor doesn’t immediately take back his comment. “You cannot challenge a guest, Tor!”
“I know, I know, it was just a passing remark.” He waves away his friend’s concern with a shrug and a twitch of his lips, but when I hear the whimsical tone in his voice, I can’t help but smile. Only Tor would find the idea of fighting someone in front of all the tribes exciting.
I can think of one other person who would enjoy that. My heart clenches painfully at the thought, and I look around the room as if it would make him appear.
Feeling my pain, Vaeril walks over to my side. His expression is sympathetic, but his body is tight. He’s working so hard to be okay with all of this. “Are you ready?” His eyes drag over me, taking in my outfit. He finds me attractive in the tribe’s clothing, even though he tries to hide it. I can feel his arousal through our bond, but he feels like the tribes are claiming me. Which, in a way, is exactly what they’re doing. However, for today, he’s pushing aside those feelings and trying to be supportive.
Thinking on his question, I fight the urge to bite my lip, so I end up twisting one of the pretty silver rings that I slipped on