Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,9
things. So I bow and wait, even though my back tingles and my palms sweat as I leave myself in such a vulnerable position.
“Rise, Clarissa.” My aunt’s voice is steady and carries so all can hear her.
Gratefully, I push up into standing, keeping my gaze on her no matter how much I want to search the crowd for my friends. Vaeril is near, I can feel him, so I know Naril will be close by. I don’t know if Eldrin decided to show up, and I don’t really care either way. Liar. Even I don’t believe that.
Something like pride shines in Revna’s gaze, but it quickly hardens as she pulls her eyes from me and addresses those gathered around us. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and even the golden hawks that fly overhead are uncharacteristically silent.
“Clarissa has been returned to us,” Revna exclaims, her eyes glowing as she gazes around the gathering. Low mutterings and calls to their goddess fill the air, and I can’t tell if they are pleased praises or curses, but I don’t want to look around in case it gives away my insecurities. Instead, I keep my back straight and channel Tor’s strength and Vaeril’s calmness. “Today, we are going to induct her into the tribes, to make her one of us so she can take her rightful place and have a home among us.” There was no secret what this ceremony was about, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone, yet there are several cries of outrage. I have an inkling of who may be behind it, and throwing a look over my shoulder, I see I’m right. Leading a small group towards us is the chief of the painted tribe.
The group is made up of nine people, predominantly of men, but there is one woman in the group too. I’m surprised they’re not all from the painted tribe like I’d expected. One of the men near the back has his eyes down, only glancing up occasionally. He’s a little younger than the others and unremarkable in appearance. I wouldn’t have noticed him if not for his strange behaviour which is so at odds with the cocky attitude of the others. When he does look up, our eyes meet, and an intense expression of hatred crosses his face so strong that it makes me start to take a step back, but I’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder—Tor. The male’s eyes flick to Tor, and he visibly flinches and looks down, shifting behind one of the others as they continue to make their way over. But not before I catch a glimpse of the tattoo on his arm, the one of two fists in an embrace, the same tattoo Tor has. They’re from the same tribe. They know each other. Despite not having completed our bond yet, I can sense the betrayal Tor feels towards this man who is standing against me. I wish I could reach up and hold his hand or turn around and tell him it’s okay, but instead, I push an image to him through our connection. I’m not sure how clearly he’ll see it, but I’m hoping he’ll feel it. It’s of the night we first kissed in the courtyard in Arhaven, and all of the feelings of hope he brought with him.
The painted chief walks straight past me and up to the high chief, his followers close behind him. “Her mother was banished.” Although he needs to convince the chiefs, he turns and addresses the watching tribes, his arms spread wide. “That means any children she has have no place here either, it’s not right,” he snarls, his followers murmuring their agreement. “She knows nothing of us, comes parading back here with elvish mates, and brought an attack on our people.” This comment brings muttering from those watching, and I feel my nerves grow. Are my fears about to come true after all? “Why should she be allowed a place among us?” He finally points at me, his disgust clear in his eyes.
“Ragnar,” a tall tribesman warns from the back of the group of chiefs. He’s not as bulky as most of the tribespeople, but one of the tallest I’ve seen, and he reminds me of the stories Tor told me of how they’re descendants of giants.
“She’s the lost child,” Revna informs him with a single raised brow, as if daring him to question her authority. Most of the gazes of