“No! ”
At the exact same time I cried, lightning rent the sky, a crack of thunder filled the air, the heavens opened and rain poured down.
“End her misery!” Lahn shouted.
Somehow I knew he was now standing but I didn’t look. My head tipped down to see she had fallen forward.
The Eunuch didn’t delay, he dropped to his knees, his hands went to Dortak’s bride, he pulled her back across his thighs and he tore
the blade from her belly. Her pained eyes captured mine and I held them as he swiftly drew the blade across her throat, blood surged out, wetting the stone and I watched, my eyes locked to hers for the terrible, brief seconds it took the life to drain from her eyes.
The rain came down in sheets, already washing her blood in a dark river across the light stone.
“No,” I whispered as the tears filled my eyes, the rain beat against my skin, my hair, my clothing, all of it soaked within seconds.
Dortak roared in triumph, my eyes went to him and he pounded a fist in his chest then punched it in the air, turned and pushed his way roughly through the crowd.
Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Two men and four women. The men were carrying something and one of the women had a huge wad of white material in her hands. They made it to the fallen woman and the women arranged the material flat on the wet stone as the men lifted her with care and then set her at one end.
They moved away as the women gently rolled her lifeless body, wrapping her tight in her wet, white gauze shroud; the blood still seeping from her wounds staining it red.
Once she was wrapped, the men came forward, lifted her onto a stretcher and swiftly all of them moved out of the clearing.
“Kah Lahnahsahna,” Lahn called.
Fogged like I was in a dream, my head slowly turned to him and I saw his paint dissolving down his body as the rain beat into him.
His arm was extended to me.
I stared at him.
“Go to your king,” Diandra whispered in my ear, her hands at my waist, pushing. “Now, my love.”
I moved to my king, he took my hand, pulled me close, bent our arms and held my hand tucked close to his chest, me to his side and we stepped off the platform, walked down the rise, through the gathered throng that was standing, silent and unmoving (except to let us through) in the driving rain.
I kept my head up, my eyes straight but that didn’t mean I didn’t cry the whole way home.
* * * * *
My girls were in the cham when we arrived and they sprung into action.
My clothes and jewels were taken away but before Packa could put a cloth to me to dry my wet skin, Lahn murmured, “Tahkoo tan,” and they hurried out of the cham.
Lahn, also still wet, his black paint seeping, but now hideless, came to me and gently he pulled me into bed not only under the silk sheet but also under the first layer of hides.
Then he pulled me into his arms, face to face, his hand cupping the back of my head pressing my face to his throat.
I listened to the rain beating on the top of the cham and wondered how the material didn’t get saturated and the wet didn’t seep through.
As I wondered this, Lahn held me close.
Then I whispered, “Your Hunt did that to her.”
“Rayloo, kah rahna fauna,” Lahn said softly, giving me a squeeze.
He understood my words even though I spoke my language, I knew it.
“Your Hunt drove her to that.” I was still whispering.
“Rayloo, Circe.”
“She was beautiful.” I kept whispering.
Lahn didn’t respond.
“He killed her beauty and slaughtered her soul.”
Lahn said nothing for a moment then he asked quietly, “Soul?”
“My people’s word for pahnsahna, her spirit,” I said just as quietly.
That got me another squeeze.
Then his hand slid from the back of my head and around to cup my jaw where a thumb under my chin pressed up gently so my head
tipped back. He was looking down at me, his eyes, I could see, soft in the candlelight.
“The heavens wept,” he said in Korwahk.
