Page 98 of The Weaver

“What are they?” she asked.

“Aja’ani’nedahl.” Rekosh knelt beside her and brushed the back of a finger across one of the red-marked petals. “Mother’s blood.”

“Mother’s blood?” She chuckled. “I guess the red spots on the petals do look like drops of blood.”

“These flowers are very rare, but where they grow, they grow thick. Pools like this are often made into sacred places.” He straightened and gestured across the water to the statue. “It is said that long ago, a terrible sickness came to the vrix. Many died, and all suffered. The Broodmother looked upon her broodlings and was flooded with sadness to see such pain. So, she cut her hand open and let her blood fall as rain. It landed upon these flowers and gave them some of her power.

“Because they are marked by her blood, they are known to heal. They can ease sickness and pain and stop wounds from bleeding. Like mender root, they are rare, but they are sacred too. Vrix dare not take too much for fear that the Broodmother’s sacrifice will be wasted.”

He hummed and tilted his head. “I am glad Zurvashi did not find this place. She would have destroyed it.”

Ahmya frowned as she sat back on her heels and gazed out over the pond. She’d heard the stories of Zurvashi’s greed for mender root, wanting it not for its healing properties, but because it made her favorite shade of purple dye. How she’d gone to war against the thornskulls because of it, resulting in so many deaths merely for her vanity. But Ahmya had heard nothing ofaja’ani’nedahl.

“Why would she have destroyed this place?” she asked.

“Because it is not for her. It does not praise her. And she knew only how to take from others, because she was strong enough to do so.”

She looked at the worn, broken statue of the Broodmother. Time and nature had taken its toll on it, but it would remain standing for many years to come. She smiled as her gaze fell upon the flowered-filled pond. “I’m glad she didn’t find this place too. It’s beautiful.”

“It brings you joy, Ahmya. To me, that is true beauty.”

Ahmya looked up at Rekosh to find him gazing at hertenderly. Warmth blossomed within her, sparking a familiar fluttering in her belly.

She caught hold of his long braid and gave it a gentle tug until he bent toward her. Leaning close, she pressed her lips to his hard mouth. “You bring me the most joy.”

With a soft trill, he cupped the back of her neck and gently leaned his headcrest against her forehead. “Ah, mynyleea, my heartsthread…”

Her heart quickened at this closeness. She loved it when he spoke such endearments, loved how he instilled those simple words with such love and meaning.

Smiling wide, Ahmya twirled his braid around her finger. “Soooo… Can I take some of the Mother’s blood?”

He pulled away with a chitter, eyes narrowed with mirth. “I knew you would ask.”

Her lips stretched into a wide grin. “So that’s a yes? It’s not forbidden?”

“Not forbidden. But”—he held up a hand with his forefinger and thumb barely separated—“only a little.”

“Yes! I know Diego would love some too. Do you think we could take a couple roots with us to plant in Kaldarak? The thornskulls don’t have a place like this as far as I know, but I’m sure they could build something in tribute to the Broodmother.”

His mandibles rose. “I think it is a gift they would appreciate.”

“Thank you!” Ahmya pecked another kiss on his mouth and rose to her feet. As she began taking off her boots, she asked, “Could I borrow your knife?”

Removing his bag, he set it on the ground and opened it. In short order, he produced the metal, human-made knife, which he presented to her grip-first.

Rather than take it right away, Ahmya slipped the braidedstraps off her shoulders and pushed her dress down her body, letting it pool around her feet once it slid past her hips.

“Ahmya,” Rekosh rasped.

She looked up to find his gaze fixed on her naked body. Desire whispered through her in response to the blatant hunger in his eyes, and her nipples hardened.

How far she’d come in only a few short days. She would never have undressed so casually in front of others, but with Rekosh? She loved the way he looked at her. Loved the way he responded to her.

Loved the way her own body responded to him.

But right now, she had a task, and she couldn’t let herself get distracted. At least…not yet.

Chuckling, Ahmya placed a finger beneath Rekosh’s jaw and pushed his mouth closed. “You can look, but you can’t touch.”

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