a deep breath and set her bowl down. “Are you afraid of my power? The Nethersong?”
He frowned. “No? Why?”
“Because I command death. Because I can kill with a thought. It’s inside me—this thing that responds to what most people fear.” Her hands were clenched tight in her lap, and he wanted to soothe them.
“Death is a part of life, the largest part in fact.” He gave into the urge and reached for her hand, uncurling her fist to intertwine their fingers. She didn’t pull away, so he continued.
“I remember crying when my mother was chosen in the lottery to be the Sacred Sacrifice. She was the last one, after her, my father insisted the shamans move away from the practice. Some of the elders protested abandoning tradition, but he truly loved her—in his way. Something inside him broke when she died. But she was proud to have been chosen. Proud to serve her community by giving her blood to the Mother. Her life reinforced our protections, and her sacrifice will go on until the Folk are no more. So, as much as I miss her and wish she was here, all life ends in death. I would have lost her eventually. We should not fear it, we must accept it for it comes regardless.”
He squeezed their joined hands. “There is little point in fearing you because you wield death. You also are a powerful blood mage. I fear that more than anything.” He smiled and her expression lightened.
“My father fears me,” she whispered. She relayed what had happened on the mountain top with the cougar, her voice dripping with sorrow. Tears filled her eyes and overflowed.
“I don’t know why I’m so upset about this. It’s not as if he even knows me at all. He says he loves me, says he only wants to protect me, but he doesn’t understand how his judgment is painful.” She scrubbed at her cheeks.
“By not accepting your power, he’s not accepting you.”
Her eyes widened. “Exactly. And even Fenix had the nerve to look at me like I was made of ants after I killed that cougar.”
“Fenix was there?” Ember stiffened at the mention of the sorcerer’s name.
Mooriah sniffed. “Yes, he brought the cat back to life. His power is…” She shook her head.
Ember was glad that the man was banished. That sort of magic went against the will of the Mother and the Breath Father. “He should not have interfered with life and death matters.”
“I did.”
“You did not interfere. You defended your father. Should we not protect ourselves and those we love? If anyone, man or beast, came for someone I cared about, then their death would be assured. Bringing them back is unnatural magic. You should be careful of that sorcerer.”
He wanted to tell her to be careful of Fenix for other reasons—the glint in the man’s eye had shown that he admired Mooriah—but he stayed quiet on that.
She sighed deeply. “If I become clan, do you think I will ever be truly accepted? Will I ever be one of you and have my own place here—my own family?”
“When you become clan, you will need to fend off the men with one of Glister’s itching spells.”
She huffed a laugh. “Doubtful.”
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
“Scare away all my imaginary suitors? No thank you. If I have even one, then it will be a miracle.”
Her voice was light, but he froze. “Why do you say that?”
“I am not such a prize as all that. So far, the only man to show interest in me is an Outsider, an arrogant thoughtless one at that.”
She tried to pull her hand from his, but he tightened his hold. “Are you certain he’s the only one?” His voice had lowered without him realizing.
She stared at their hands before meeting his gaze. Their faces were very close together all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. She swallowed, bringing his attention to her elegant neck.
Her breath brushed across his lips; she was staring at them, blinking slowly. He held his breath. Then she shook herself and sat back. Disappointment was a mallet against his chest.
“You’re going to be the chief, the Mother willing. You cannot…” She scooted farther away, forcing their hands apart. “You are not even supposed to speak to the unclanned.”
“You are going to be our shaman,” he said, longing for the feel of her skin on his once more. But she was focusing on her bowl again, still not eating,