Page 195 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

As soon as she leaves and it’s just Tor and me in the tent, my nerves ramp up a notch. We may not have completed our bond yet, but with my emotions running high, he’ll be able to feel them. However, it doesn’t take a genius to see my anxiety in my taut shoulders and wringing hands. I feel the loss of Vaeril like a void, each step he takes making it more difficult. Tor’s closeness helps, but without our bond being sealed, it’s not the same, and I can see the strain on his face as he feels my need.

“Remind me again why they couldn’t stay for this?” I don’t need to voice who I mean by ‘they.’ He knows I mean the elves, and even then, one in particular.

Vaeril had made it clear that he wasn’t happy he had to leave me alone for this part of the ceremony, but he reluctantly accepted this was part of the rite. At the time when Tor explained it, I agreed with the explanation. Right now, however, I’m regretting that decision.

Tor’s watching me with a careful, guarded expression. It’s obvious he hates how stressed this is making me. “When we walk in, the tribes need to see you as strong. If they see you with the elves, they will look like guards, and that will make you appear weak.” Looking down at my hands, I ball them into fists at the idea they might think I was weak, and my attention catches onmy new tattoo. “You need to make an impression. You need to take your place here and show those who doubt you who you really are.” Tracing the intricate tribal pattern on my skin with my eyes, I nod my head slowly as he speaks. He’s right. He closes the distance between us and places his hands on my arms, making me drag my gaze up to the face I know so well. His intense regard makes him look fierce, along with the sharpness of his features, tattoos, and darkhair. But despite all this, I know he would never hurt me. “Clarissa, you’re fine. You’re ready for this.”

If he believes that, then it must be true, right?A tingle in my wrist makes me look down to see it glowing brightly, and my excitement grows as I feel the Mother’s presence fill the tent. Closing my eyes, I let her power wash over me, gasping as she pours her love into me, basking in her comforting embrace. I’ve not felt her this strongly since I was in Arhaven, and it feels like returning home. I don’t know why she’s suddenly so much stronger, but I know she’s here for a reason.

Beloved, you are ready. I am with you.Her voice is clear and firm in my mind, and as I open my eyes, Tor is watching me with wide, wonder-filled eyes. I feel strong and powerful, like I’m prepared to take on the world.

“I’m ready now.”

Walking from the tent, I make sure my back is straight and my head is held high, taking the path I’ve already memorised specifically for this occasion. The feathers in my hair catch in the gentle breeze and brush against my face, but I don’t push them away, I simply keep walking. There is no need for the neutral mask I’d been practising in the mirror, as the Mother has filled me with an inner light that assures me I’m doing what I need to. Some may assume it’s confidence, but it’s simply belief in my goddess.

Tor follows a step behind me as my ‘guardian’ for the ceremony, hence the matching clothing. As the high chief, Revna will be conducting the ritual today, thus she was unable to present me, so Tor offered to take her place as my guardian. It’s unorthodox, but then nothing about my situation is normal.

It’s a slight incline up to the meeting point, and as we weave our way through the rows and rows of tents, it’s almostcompletely silent, since everyone is waiting for us at the top. It’s not a far walk, but it has my heart pounding as I climb a short, jagged staircase cut into a boulder and the waiting tribes come into view. Thanks to weeks of travelling, my body is used to such conditions, so I’m no longer out of breath from actions like that as I would have been when we first escaped.

Reaching the top, I pause briefly as they notice my arrival, hearing their whispers and seeing their pointed fingers. Tor is just behind me, his presence steadying me, and I take a moment to remember why I’m here. I can’t see Revna, my elves, or the sacred stones, thanks to the sheer volume of people who are gathered.

“I thought only the chiefs had to attend.” Glancing over my shoulder, I see Tor gazing out at the sea of tribespeople with an odd expression. It almost seems like he’s worried, but just as I think it, his face is wiped clean.

“They were the only ones whohadto attend, but it’s open to everyone, and because all of the tribes were here for the high chief’s announcement anyway…” Shrugging, he brings his eyes back to mine, and I hear the apologetic tone in his voice. He knows I struggle in situations where I’m watched by large numbers of people. Nothing good has ever happened to me in those times. Memories flash through my mind of being dragged into the chapel in Arhaven as a slave when they declared I was to be killed before the Great Mother blessed me and Grayson saved me. Or when I denied the King of Arhaven publicly before turning and walking away from him, only to run and free his enemy. Of standing up to the elf queen in front of her people and defending my mate. All of those occasions have had consequences and led me to where I am today, so I understand they needed to happen, but they could have all gone disastrously wrong, and I still have nightmares about them.

“You’re all as bad as Naril for gossip.” I try to pass off my discomfort with a small laugh, but I know he sees through it. “When is Revna going to do her announcement anyway?” Trying to change the subject, I start to walk again. There’s no point in putting it off for any longer. I’ll only make myself more nervous. One person or one hundred people, it doesn’t change what I’m doing.

“I’m not sure, but it makes sense to do it when everyone is gathered together,” he replies, his voice low behind me, and I begrudgingly have to agree that he’s right. As the high chief, only she has the power to call together all of the tribes, some of which have travelled from the far reaches of the mountains to get here. Now that they have all finally arrived and learned of the attack on their people, on their sacred holy place, they are angry and want answers. It makes sense Revna will tell them today after the ceremony, seeing as they’re already gathered.

We stop talking as we reach the edge of the crowd. The weight of their stares is heavy, which is nothing new, but the variation is unusual. I’m used to being looked at in disgust, fear, and awe, but I hadn’t expected to see those expressions on the faces here. Just what do these people believe about me? I’ve heard a couple of whispers about ‘the lost child,’ the parable told of a child blessed by one of their goddesses that was lost to them, and it was said that whoever was to find the child would bring great honour to their tribe. However, the looks that are being sent my way have to be about more than just a story told over a campfire. I try not to let the stares get to me, but as we get closer, my eyes run over a particular group that’s standing together but slightly apart from everyone else. They must be from the same tribe, as they are all dressed alike. The three red painted slashes across their faces from forehead to jaw make them appear ferocious, but the narrowed eyes and clenched fists as they watch me walk past make them look fiercer. The tribesman whoI assume is the leader stands at the front, his hand resting on the hammer at his side, and a sneer adorns his face as our eyes meet. I don’t know what I’ve done, but for some reason, this tribe hates me.

I don’t need to look at the tribesman behind me to know Tor is glaring at this mystery tribe. I can practically feel the animosity rolling off him, a low growl rumbling from his chest. There’s a moment where I see the chief of the tribe write me off as unthreatening, as just a little girl, and the corner of his mouth twitches up.

Oh, really?My anger awakens, and I make a decision. It’s not part of the plan, in fact it’s so far off of the plan, I’m probably breaking about five hundred tribe rules, but Tor told me I needed to show them I’m strong, that I belong here. I’m not going to fight them, I know I wouldn’t win, not against someone like him, but I won’t back down against a bully. Stopping in my tracks, I turn and stare at the tribesman. Tor instantly halts at my side, not asking any questions at my deviation of the plan. He simply crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at anyone who would dare look in our direction. I pity anybody who ends up on the receiving end of that scowl.

Realising something is happening, the chief of the painted tribe looks back up, and a flash of shock crosses his features before he glares at me again. His gaze briefly flicks to Tor as if assessing him as a threat, but it quickly returns to me, which surprises me. If you were to ask me who was more threatening just by looking at us, Tor or me, I would pick the towering mountain man. Which means he’s going on more than just physical appearances. Although I’d love to place my hands on my hips and give him a meaningful look, I simply hold his gaze. The sound of shuffling feet and muttering voices reverberate around us, and I know we’re making people nervous, but I keep holding the chief’s gaze. Something changes then as he tilts hishead to one side with a pondering expression on his face. He still hates me, that much is clear, but I’ve surprised him. The corner of my mouth flicks up in a semblance of a smile as I spin on my heel and start walking towards the meeting place once more.

People are gathered in groups on either side of the path, so I can’t quite see the stones yet, but above their heads, I can view the large tents that are erected to the side of them. I hear the crackling of the fire now, and as we get closer, I see the familiar faces of the tribespeople who reside here permanently and care for the sacred place. As I follow the curved path around, the tall, pillar-like stones come into sight. They stand in a circle, covered in carvings with sacred stories and teachings of the tribes’ histories, and in the center is a large fire. Beyond the stones, the rock falls away, revealing a view of the rest of the mountains. It’s beautiful, and even though I’ve seen it several times now, it never fails to take my breath away.

Standing in front of the fire, dressed in an outfit similar to mine but ten times more ornate and covered in feathers, is my aunt. She’s wearing a headdress made of antlers, feathers, and what looks like fangs from an animal. Her arms are mostly bare to show off her tattoos, except for leather straps wrapped in complicated knots at the top of both arms. Her cape, like mine, is decorative, but from what I can see, hers is far longer, extending back and draping on the ground. On either side of her stand a group of tribespeople of varying ages, but they all hold themselves in the same way. They’re the chiefs,I realise, my eyes flicking over them, doing a quick mental count. Tor informed me that there were twelve official tribes, and including Revna, there are eleven chiefs before me all watching me with varying levels of interest.

The painted chief chose not to stand with the others,I muse, my gaze taking in the hungry expressions of a few of the chiefs.Was he protesting against me, or slighting the others?I wonder, covering the last couple of steps until I’m just before Revna. Kneeling, I lift my right fist and cross it over my chest to my left shoulder in a show of respect, bowing my head. Although I would never usually greet her this way, Tor explained I have to show that I can follow their rules and protocols, that I respect how they do 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’llfeelit. 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 notright,” 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 shouldshe 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 the crowd, and several from the chiefs, turn to me with reverence in their expressions. Suddenly, I get the feeling Tor left out a lot when he was telling me the story of the lost child.

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