Blood for Honor

A familiar, hard cot, a foot and a half off the cold, hard-packed earth floor, is not where I wanted to wake up. But I will take it because it means I am back behind the tall oak wood fence surrounding the Blackthorn compound.

I would rather be buried under the layer of furs on my dense bedroll, insulated well against the cold earth by a thick layer of pine needles. They do the job of holding warmth much better than the cloth cot under me. The dingy white blanket covering me now barely keeps out the worst of the chill in the air, far less superior than my collection of furs.

No one knows how I got home, including me. All anyone has been able to tell me is that I walked right up to what is left of the South Gate and collapsed at the feet of Warren Payne, the Captain of the Guard who was on duty at the time.

The sensation of having lost time and the pounding headache have left me disoriented. I’ve been trying to focus on the pale hand-woven curtains hanging around my bed from a wooden pole frame and hammered iron rings. They shade my quaint space, shielding my eyes from most of the light from the hallway. But it blocks out neither the voices, which float lazily over the barrier from the space to my right, nor my thoughts, which have wandered back to Danny with the sight of the iron rings.

Danny made them, along with many other seemingly insignificant things like them. My husband was not the best blacksmith, but he was good enough for the master smith to entrust him with village necessities—no easy feat. He became entrenched in this place more than I believe most people realize. It is one reason I still cannot believe Danny would betray everything he has put his heart and soul into over the past four years.

But he was never accepted as Blackthorn. Surely a man can snap without the feeling of belonging to keep him grounded.

The thought leaves me feeling insignificant and alone. Maybe even a little unwanted, if I am honest with myself.

The lowly flicker of a small pine pitch candle on my bedside table casts the room in a soft yellow glow. I watch the shadows delicately dance across my lap until a familiar voice rouses me from my stupor.

My Father’s Right Hand, Jai Norris, has a distinct assertiveness that breaks through the atmosphere with authority, despite his age. He is no more than a year or two younger than Damian, but he has more clout than some senior clan members around here. Hell, even my father listens to his opinions over his son’s most of the time.

“Is Chief Vance here?” Jai asks.

“No, sir, Mr. Vance said he had a family issue to attend to. He didn’t explain, but he said he wouldn’t be back until later,” Carika, the head nurse, says in her upbeat tone. I would recognize her chipper voice anywhere. It grates on my nerves even on the best of days.

“Oh, well, is Ms. Iylara awake yet?” he asks her hastily as if it is what he wanted to ask to begin with. I picture Jai looking over the short brunette woman’s head to see if he can get a glimpse inside my room.

“She was a few minutes ago,” Carika says.

I grimace, not caring to speak to anybody at the moment, especially someone so good at making me talk. Not that I mind most of the time. Jai is one of my closest friends, basically a brother after having grown up together, but I am not sure I am ready to talk—or if I even can.

There is a shuffling sound and footsteps. I look up to find Jai’s cropped blond hair peeking through the curtain a few moments later, followed by his over-observant lapis-blue eyes.

I watch him dazedly. Upon seeing me awake, he slips quietly between the curtains. “Ray,” Jai says with a sigh, relief written clearly on his sharp features. The candlelight casts dense shadows on his angular jaw and in the hollow of his eyes as he walks over, sitting on the edge of the wooden chair next to my bed. “How are you?”

I stay silent for a moment, trying to find a truthful answer to his question. He will know if I am lying. Reading people is his specialty.

I clear my sandpaper-like throat painfully. “I don’t k-know, I—” I stop, not sure how to explain it with my brain working in a fog.

Too many thoughts bounce around the forefront of my mind, and I cannot focus on any particular one without my head pounding. Tears start to well up in my eyes as I search for the words to say, but I cannot keep the waterworks at bay. I sniffle, looking down at my hands lying limply on the quilted blanket.

I try to process the flood of emotions, but my sniffles turn to sobs as they hit me like a ton of bricks. I utterly fail at gathering my thoughts to speak, and the weight of my husband’s death lands in an unseen heap on my chest, suffocating me.

I take a shuddering breath, forcing myself to speak. “There is this weight on my chest, and I don’t know how to deal with it,” I say, tears streaming down my face.

I have to tell him about Danny, but I do not know if I can speak the truth about what has happened. Someone else needs to know, though. I cannot pretend that Carnegie did not finally get what he wanted most.

“Argh!” I groan. I throw my hands up to my face, pressing on my eyes to try and make the pounding in my head stop. It intensifies as a display of fireworks erupts behind my eyelids under the pressure of my hands.

“My head hurts,” I whimper, overcome by everything. I look up from my hands at Jai, my face crinkled in distress. “This isn’t all some bad nightmare, right? This is reality?”

Jai’s brow furrows, and I turn my eyes away from him, not wanting his answer, but needing to hear it regardless. He will not lie to me. It is not in his nature. Jai will tell me the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

“Yes.”

I cannot fully comprehend the simple little word, but I watch him nod as he says it, and it breaks something inside of me. I bury my face again, crying into my hands.

“Dan—” I cannot even say his name without reliving his death over again in my mind. My heart twists in my chest as I grit my teeth and clench my fists in frustration.

“I can’t unsee it,” I say, a lump lodging in my throat.

“What can’t you unsee?”

I swallow. “Carnegie killing Danny.” The very thing plays over in my head yet again, despite my desperate attempts to ignore it, but it is the only thing I can remember.

I would give the world for this to be a bad dream, and to wake up now, wrapped in Danny’s warm embrace like nothing ever happened.

“Do you know where you were?” Jai asks, voice quiet.

“N-no. It looked like an old s-storage facility if I had to guess. I don’t remember a-anything else, though,” I stammer out through tears.

Jai’s eyes glisten darkly in the light from the low-burning candle flame. Even with the expert mask, he cannot hide his grief, not from me. I know him too well.

Jai was one of the few who treated Danny like he was any other Blackthorn, not a Charon defector. Not best friends, but somewhere close to it. My gut wrenches. I am not the only one who lost someone close to me today.

Or was it yesterday? The day before?

I do not even know what day it is anymore.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the cot. I cannot continue to lay here drowning in my thoughts.

“Whoa, wait,” Jai says, realizing what I am doing. He grabs my arm, gently pushing me back down on the pillow. “You need to rest. Doc said you have a concussion.”

My memory may be fuzzy and missing time, but I do not have a concussion. At least, that is the story I am sticking with. I have no idea what could have happened with the missing time in my memory.

Maybe I am dying.

The thought brings more comfort than any other bouncing around inside my mind. I grit my teeth, unwilling to be given a reason to stay in this bed any longer. “I don’t have a concussion. I need to go for a walk. It’s suffocating me in here.”

I can already sense his next question, ‘What happened?’ floating around in the air like something tangible. The anxiety building in the pit of my stomach cannot be ignored. The fear of explaining what happened has me on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, so I must escape—or at least put some space between Jai’s questioning gaze and myself.

My body protests with aches and pains that refuse to go away, my head being the worst. Still, I push past it, determination overriding the protest from my body with a vigor that shocks me. I am in control on the outside but manic on the inside as I try to control the shaking of my hands.

Jai awkwardly clears his throat as I throw my legs over the edge of the cot. “If you aren’t going to stay, I will wait outside.” He slides out between the curtains without a second glance.

His quick action confuses me until I look down to find myself in one of those ridiculous gowns without a back. I manage a snort of humor as I put two and two together, but it is half-hearted at best.

A rickety two-drawer dresser sits in the corner. A clean set of clothes waits for me on top, along with my weapons belt. My swords are gone, though, undoubtedly taken from me when I was captured. My pair of light boots sits on the ground beside the aging dresser.

As I slip out of the gown, I shiver in the cool air, and goose flesh creeps up my arms. I look around and find my long, dark green coat hanging on a hook behind the chair Jai vacated; I am relieved to know I will not have to be cold for long. Rabbit fur lines the inside, beckoning me to sink into its warmth.

I slip into the pair of worn leather leggings someone raided from my house, and it irks me. I am grateful to wear my clothes, but someone has been digging around my dresser in our home.

My home, I correct myself. Only one soul lives in the quaint little cabin behind my father’s house now, if I can ever step foot inside it again.

And just like that, it no longer feels like home.

I may be overreacting because it would not have been anyone other than my father. But the issue remains on my heart. Home is where the heart is, but my heart is not there—it is dead.

I have no home.

There is a part of me that wants to be angry at Danny’s betrayal, if I truly believe it, but the other part of me is too weary with grief to feel or deal with anything at all. I mentally shake away the depressing thoughts as my countenance falters under the threat of new tears and pull the shirt over my head.

I tighten my belt around my waist to hold down the flowing ends of the oversized linen shirt. I doubt my father meant to grab one of Danny’s, only wishing to help, but the woody smell embedded in the cotton cuts another pain of longing straight through my heart. It takes my breath away.

I reach out, steadying myself against the dresser as the world tilts. I inhale a shaky but steadying breath and continue getting dressed in a daze. I yank open the dresser’s top drawer packed full of socks harder than necessary. I fumble, trying to stop the drawer from falling out onto my toes, wincing as the dresser bangs against the wall.

Jai’s voice immediately follows the sound. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter out unconvincingly.

“You sure?” I can hear the concern in his voice plain as day, but he withholds himself from entering in case I am still under-dressed.

“Yeah.” My voice is steadier this time around. “The dresser drawer was stuck,” I add, less than truthfully, but if he catches the fib, he leaves it alone.

Jai doesn’t say anything else, and I grab a pair of socks out of the drawer along with my leather boots from the floor before sitting down on the edge of the cot again. The socks are thick wool and feel like heaven on my feet. I sigh with pleasure and pull on the mid-calf boots, followed by my coat. I shrug on the fur with another sigh as it envelopes me with warmth, and step out of the secluded room somewhere close to contentment despite everything.

The candle chandeliers strung up along the ceiling are not bright in their own right, but they are much brighter than the single candle in my room. I close my eyes, blocking the harsh light with a hissing through my teeth.

“You sure you don’t want to go lay back down?” Jai asks from his place by my room entrance, waiting for me.

I squint through my eyelashes, adjusting my eyes to the light while still managing to cast him a dirty look. “I’m sure,” I say shortly, heading off for the exit before he can push the matter.

I get about ten feet down the hallway before Dr. Matthews comes out of the maze of adjoining halls to intervene in my escape.

“Where do you think you are going?” she asks with a motherly yet scathing tone to her voice.

Dr. Lorelie Matthews is a stubby middle-aged woman. Her shoulder-length black curls, graying severely on the right side of her head, bounce with each antagonizing step toward me.

My eyes narrow. I am prepared to be brash to escape this damned infirmary. “I’m going to see my father. Are you going to try and stop me?” I ask her defiantly. Dr. Matthews knows that she cannot stop me from leaving or make me do much of anything; however, it does not stop her from trying to block the small hallway with her wide hips.

“You know I can’t do that, but I do have to strongly suggest that you go back to your room and wait for him, ma’am.” Dr. Matthews puts her hands on her hips for emphasis, and I huff with impatience as she continues to speak. “You have a severe concussion. If I had it my way, you would be bedridden for at least 48 hours and quarantined in a dark room,” she chides.

I am starting to feel like a caged animal. The hall begins closing on me, and anger rises in my chest. “I do not have a concussion!” I say for what I hope is the last time. “I’m not staying locked up for days. Not happening. Goodbye,” I say a little more harshly than I mean to, but it makes her move out of my way, allowing me to push past her.

“Come see me later, please,” she calls after me, a timid tone to her voice now.

I give her a thumb up over my shoulder and make a beeline for the exit. I shove a chair roughly aside in my haste to get out of the building. The anxiety attack building within me becomes more prominent the longer I stay inside. Everything is closing in on me, trapping me under the rubble of my broken world.

Out of earshot of Dr. Matthews, Jai asks, “Did you have to be like that?” He strides ahead, opening the wooden door leading outside for me.

“Thank you,” I say as I sigh in relief once we are outside.

Bright sunlight blasts through the wispy clouds drifting along in the unseasonably cold breeze. I hold my hand up to shield my eyes from the light before answering Jai’s question.

“And no, I didn’t.” I frown a little at the thought before taking a deep breath of cold, fresh air. Being rude is not in my nature. That is more of my brother’s forte. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. It just did,” I admit.

Jai gives me a look, and I huff at him, guilty at my tone. “I will apologize later. I need to be there for that issue I heard Carika tell you about.”

Jai’s eyes widen. “You could hear that?” he asks, surprised.

“Yeah, noise carries in that place. I can never get any rest there,” I say, looking around at the modest shacks surrounding the village’s infirmary.

Charred forest litter lay mere feet from some—a reminder that things could have turned out worse than they did. White stone pathways usually connect every structure to the main path winding its way around the village, but now, ash stains them all an ugly blackish-gray.

There are only two ways to the Chief’s Courtyard. Unfortunately, the least populated way is also the longest. Jai leads me toward the South Gate, and the burned remnants of buildings and trees in the entrance square come into view before I can prepare myself.

My heart drops at the sight of the charred rubble where the Apothecary my mother’s mother had built. Keena runs it now, or did, because I am usually too busy to hang around all day, but it holds a special place in my heart. I spent many days in my childhood hunting down plants to help fill the shelves. And now it’s all gone.

Jai seems unfazed by the destruction. I am sure he witnessed it burning, though, so this would be nothing compared to a raging inferno. I cannot emotionally deal with the wreckage at the moment. There is enough destruction inside of me, and I do not need to add to it. I walk faster, trying to get past the worst part quickly.

“You’ve only had to spend the night there like twice,” Jai says incredulously, oblivious to my internal struggle. “And I was upfront. How could you hear that?”

I head down the path to the Chief’s Courtyard, brow creasing at his words, but I do not respond.

I shouldn’t have been able to hear him from up front.

Jai’s hand reaches out to steady me as I trip over my foot, distracted. He is about to protest my walking about before I shrug him away.

“I’m fine,” I assure him weakly.

The world begins to spin around me slowly. I may be lying to both of us. “You have a very distinct, and might I add loud, voice,” I say lightly, trying to continue like Jai’s words have not struck something as off to me.

“Not that loud,” he mumbles more to himself than me.

I shake off the uneasy feeling threatening to prod the lingering shadow of another anxiety attack back to the forefront of my mind and push on. “I figure everyone will be at the cabin. Let’s go.”

The garden in front of my father’s cabin has fallen far from its glory days under my mother’s loving care. However, its self-sown and overgrown state still holds a natural beauty. Give it a few more weeks, and nature will prune itself once the frost comes. Everything but the hardiest plants will die out, leaving a skeleton until spring, when the cycle will start again.

The ground my mother cared for carries her memory in the self-sustaining habitat she created for it like the metal curtain rings Danny made. It fascinates me how the little things a person does in life can impact others once they are gone.

Why do we not give those things any thought while their makers are still around?

My eyes wander past the garden, and I freeze in my tracks, wrenched from my thoughts. Beyond the garden to my right, the cabin I shared with Danny stands in all of its glory—the home we made together with our own hands, as tradition dictates.

My heart lurches into my throat, and the earlier anxiety attack starts coming back with force. Jai does not notice and keeps walking. I take a wavering breath and force myself to follow him with a heavy sigh. Having to answer questions would surely be worse than shoving the nauseating feeling aside.

I rip my eyes away from the cabin, focusing on my father’s home. It may reside behind a secondary gate, unlike much of the rest of the village here, but it is modest in size. My great-grandfather built it and erected the fence around it right after the Desolation, or Great War as some would call it, as a means to start over. The rest of the village sprung up around the fence over the years as Blackthorn grew and got stronger. The border fence was built about fifty years ago.

After all this time, even my great-grandfather’s memory remains, if only within the sawn logs of a cabin in the middle of the woods. Before today, I had never given any of this a thought, but I will not be able to forget it now.

Raised voices cut through the peaceful garden atmosphere before we get to the cabin door. It sounds like my father’s deep voice trying to cut through Keena’s incessant high-pitch tweeting. Jai moves to knock, but I shove past him. I throw the door open roughly with ever-shaking hands.

Keena stands in the middle of the living room on my father’s patchwork rug, tears raging as my father towers over her petite form. Ysabel sits on the couch near the fire, silent tears rolling down her face as she listens to the bickering.

The noise of my entrance draws all three pairs of eyes. My father stares at me for a moment before turning his gaze back on his daughter-in-law. “Enough,” he says tersely, looking back at me as Keena sinks into the couch.

Ysabel melts against Keena’s side as her mother wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“Iylara,” my father says with relief in his gruff voice.

At the sound of my name, I run into his arms, tears streaming down my face again. He holds me as I cry, the furs around his shoulders engulfing my face and absorbing my tears as he comforts me—or tries to. My father is not a compassionate man, but he does his best, rubbing soft circles on my back with his thumbs as he holds me close. It is enough to be held, if only for a moment.

Keena releases a dramatized sigh behind me. I let my father go, turning to her. I am not in the mood for her attitude. “Do you have something else to say?” I ask scathingly, wiping tears from my face with the back of my hand.

Keena raises a dark eyebrow, her chocolate brown eyes filled with frustration. She has no desire to understand why I am so upset. “Only that we are wasting time. We need to find Damian!” she croons.

“He is missing?” I ask, fear feeding the anxiety still swirling in my belly. There is something, a memory, maybe? It scratches at the edge of my mind, but I cannot grab hold of it.

“You didn’t know? He disappeared when you did!” Keena retorts.

I look back at my father, searching his age-weary face for answers, but he has none. The last time I saw Damian was when—

“The people who took me were surrounding him when I blacked out,” I say, trying hard to remember anything. I am on the verge of remembering something, but the harder I try to recall it, the more my head hurts, so I stop. I glance over at Jai, who seems to be about to speak but remains quiet.

“We need to send out a search party,” Keena demands, looking at my father as he sits down in his chair, a forlorn look darkening his face. “We have to find him.”

My father nods solemnly. “We will broaden the search. Get more feet on the ground.” He chews on the inside of his beard-covered lip as he stares off into the crackling fire in thought.

“What about Danny?” I ask. I want to put my husband to rest with a proper funeral and try to forget that he might have caused all this.

Keena bristles at the mention of my husband, cutting off my father’s next words. “The traitor, you mean? He is missing too.”

I turn on her, but Jai grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Don’t you say a word against him,” I snarl, but I let Jai pull me toward the door.

“I will say what I please. Can you guess how many people are dead because of him?” Keena demands. She already believes wholeheartedly that he is guilty but has no proof that I am aware of.

What will that mean for everyone else?

“He’s dead!” I yell at her, unable to find anything else to say. I wrench my arm out of Jai’s grasp, leaving the cabin in a swirling of cloth as the anxiety begins to mount once more, nearing full-blown panic.

Keena follows us out of the cottage, unwilling to let it go. My proclamation has not fazed her. I am sure she will silently celebrate later.

“Our people’s blood is on your hands. If you hadn’t gone off and seduced Danny away from his clan, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Poison drips from her voice, and my anger rises to meet it.

“Excuse me?” I turn on her, failing to keep my emotions in check.

Ysabel appears on the porch to see what is happening, but my father pulls her back inside the cabin. I am grateful. She should not have to witness us fight—again.

“You heard me,” Keena says, trying to spur me on.

“Walk away,” I warn through clenched teeth, trying to control myself. Everything in me wants to lash out.

I stare into her eyes, watching the rage and grief swimming in her misty eyes that mirror mine. I know Keena wants to hurt me, if only to lessen the intensity of emotions raging inside her. I let her have the first hit, merely to have a reason to put my hands on her. Keena does not have much strength, but her fury-filled fist still stings. I shake off the hit and shove Keena roughly with both hands, sending her stumbling back a few steps.

The shove tames her momentarily as she stands there seething, unable to speak or act. She looks appalled that I would even try to touch her. “You get one more chance to walk away. I’m warning you,” I say.

Keena disregards my words, finally finding her voice. She does not hesitate to blame me for everything. “This is entirely your fault! Admit it. My husband might be dead because you couldn’t keep your legs closed!” she screams at me, tears running down her face.

“Keena!” my father’s voice warns from the cabin door. He knows I will only take so much from her.

I hold up a hand in his direction. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

My eyes never leave hers as she starts spewing at the mouth. “You couldn’t just do what you were supposed to and marry a strong Blackthorn soldier. You had to cross enemy lines and bring a world of hell on us. Your selfishness has brought destruction to our home and death to our people!” she yells.

I react in ill-contained anger. “Are you kidding me?” I shout at her, taking a step forward. I want to respond rashly, maybe grab her by the throat and choke the life out of her, but I force myself to stop with what little restraint I have left. Keena is right, but I do not want to admit that my past choices have brought this on.

She strikes as the guilt settles on me. I am distracted, and she strikes my face with a clawed hand before I can block. I hiss as her nails draw blood. I clench my fist, landing one hit to her jaw that sends her sprawling on her back before she can rear back to hit me again. I stand over her, waiting for her to make her next move.

Keena lay there huffing and holding her jaw, but she does not move to get off the ground. Wanting to believe that she is done, I turn to leave her, wishing to escape the guilt beginning to weigh me down.

“Iylara!” My father’s voice alerts me to danger.

I spin around as Keena picks herself off the ground with a small dagger in her hand. It is a pretty little thing Damian gave her as a wedding gift. She usually keeps it in an intricately tooled leather sheath on her belt, never removing it until now.

Keena lunges at me, the blade extended toward my abdomen. I catch her wrist as the tip pierces the fabric of my shirt. A sharp sting emanates from my belly as she manages to force the blade into my skin before I restrain her completely, but the wound is shallow.

I push her arm out and away from me; at the same time, I grab her by the throat, pulling her back against my chest. Holding her in a choke-hold, I lean back, lifting her off her feet. She struggles against me, feet kicking wildly. I cannot feel the impact of her heels against my shins over the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I twist her arm back until it pops, forcing her to let go of the knife. It lands tip down in the dirt at our feet, and Keena screeches in pain as her shoulder dislocates.

Jai grabs me by the arms. He tries to get me to loosen my hold on Keena as my father hobbles across the yard toward us, but I am not done with her. She has crossed the line attacking me like that.

I growl in her ear, grip tightening on her throat to get my point across. “Come at me one more time, especially with my mother’s blade, and I swear, I will kill you with it.”

Without another word, I let her go, throwing her to the ground. She collapses in a heap, gasping in pain while she holds her shoulder, arm hanging limply at her side. She gazes up at me in a dazed shock. My father kneels beside Keena, assessing the damage I did.

Jaw clenched, I say nothing and stalk past Jai. Heading out of the courtyard gate, I make the mistake of glancing up to meet my niece’s wide eyes as she stares at me in fear from the cottage door.

The girl has enough issues as it is, and I keep adding to them.