lap. They were a dark red, the skin broken in places, and she clenched her fists in anger.
“May I go?” she asked.
His hands left her instantly, and although the massage had felt wonderful, she refused to acknowledge it aloud. “Yes.”
Emmie stood where she was, refusing to turn around and see him exposed. She was already at the door, pulling it open before she heard his voice again.
“Don’t try to run again. If I don’t catch you myself, someone will and you won’t like the results.”
The threat settled over her like a new set of bindings, invisible but just as effective. “Fine. May I leave now?”
“Of course.” Lucian’s voice sounded satisfied, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then his voice rose up, “I’ll see you soon, little bird.”
“Hawk,” she corrected, and left.
Chapter Six
The raiders lived a strangely normal existence, which Emmie discovered for herself over the next four days. Lucian had left on another hunting trip the day after she had earned the right to have her hands free, and he wasn’t back yet.
For that she was grateful.
They seemed to leave in shifts, always bringing back fresh meat to the village while those who stayed behind tended to the rough gardens in the forest around them, or gathered naturally growing foods. That was where Clara spent her days, and it was obvious that these people knew more about what to eat, and what not to eat, than Emmie could have ever learned in the time she had spent researching.
A few other things became very clear in Lucian’s absence.
First, the raiders had been explicitly commanded not to touch her.
Second, the same was not true for Alice or Clara, who had failed to return to the stable several nights that week because men had kept them for the evening.
Third, Emeline’s very short list of talents was making her a complication to the other women in the village.
“No, no, no! The weave must be tighter than that, otherwise it will come apart as its used!” Lucie sighed at her and took the basket-to-be from her hands again. “Watch me.”
The woman’s delicate fingers undid the last row that Emmie had produced and then redid it, tightening the weave along the way until it looked perfect. “I did watch you, I just don’t know why it doesn’t look the same when I do it.”
“It takes practice, you’ll get it.” Lucie handed the basket back to her and Emmie nestled it into her lap to try again. “What did you do in the city?”
A blush crept into her cheeks and she shrugged. “I did some embroidery, needlepoint type things.”
“Ah, well, we don’t have much of a need for decorative sewing work. Can you make clothes?”
Emmie took her time weaving the thick, dry strips and shook her head. “No, I was never very good at that. They always came out wobbly, one side shorter than the other, or the arm in the wrong place.”
Lucie laughed, a tinkling sound that made Emmie blush harder. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you. I’m terrible at it, too! Whenever Evan needs something repaired, I sneak off to one of the other women who can work a needle. I’m sure he knows, but he always thanks me as if I did it myself.”
“You’re with Evan?”
“Yes, he’s my mate.” Lucie smiled as she began to finish the edges of her second basket for the day, while Emmie was still barely halfway through her first.
Mate .
The word had floated in conversations, and she had originally brushed it off as a barbaric term the raiders chose to use because of how they treated women – but Lucie said it with reverence.
“What exactly does that mean?” Emmie asked, keeping her eyes on her weaving as she did her best to sound nonchalant.
“Has no one explained —” Lucie sighed and reached for another stack of grasses. “It means I belong to him, and he belongs to me.”
“You belong to him?” She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice, but Lucie laughed sweetly.
“Yes, Emmie, and he
“May I go?” she asked.
His hands left her instantly, and although the massage had felt wonderful, she refused to acknowledge it aloud. “Yes.”
Emmie stood where she was, refusing to turn around and see him exposed. She was already at the door, pulling it open before she heard his voice again.
“Don’t try to run again. If I don’t catch you myself, someone will and you won’t like the results.”
The threat settled over her like a new set of bindings, invisible but just as effective. “Fine. May I leave now?”
“Of course.” Lucian’s voice sounded satisfied, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then his voice rose up, “I’ll see you soon, little bird.”
“Hawk,” she corrected, and left.
Chapter Six
The raiders lived a strangely normal existence, which Emmie discovered for herself over the next four days. Lucian had left on another hunting trip the day after she had earned the right to have her hands free, and he wasn’t back yet.
For that she was grateful.
They seemed to leave in shifts, always bringing back fresh meat to the village while those who stayed behind tended to the rough gardens in the forest around them, or gathered naturally growing foods. That was where Clara spent her days, and it was obvious that these people knew more about what to eat, and what not to eat, than Emmie could have ever learned in the time she had spent researching.
A few other things became very clear in Lucian’s absence.
First, the raiders had been explicitly commanded not to touch her.
Second, the same was not true for Alice or Clara, who had failed to return to the stable several nights that week because men had kept them for the evening.
Third, Emeline’s very short list of talents was making her a complication to the other women in the village.
“No, no, no! The weave must be tighter than that, otherwise it will come apart as its used!” Lucie sighed at her and took the basket-to-be from her hands again. “Watch me.”
The woman’s delicate fingers undid the last row that Emmie had produced and then redid it, tightening the weave along the way until it looked perfect. “I did watch you, I just don’t know why it doesn’t look the same when I do it.”
“It takes practice, you’ll get it.” Lucie handed the basket back to her and Emmie nestled it into her lap to try again. “What did you do in the city?”
A blush crept into her cheeks and she shrugged. “I did some embroidery, needlepoint type things.”
“Ah, well, we don’t have much of a need for decorative sewing work. Can you make clothes?”
Emmie took her time weaving the thick, dry strips and shook her head. “No, I was never very good at that. They always came out wobbly, one side shorter than the other, or the arm in the wrong place.”
Lucie laughed, a tinkling sound that made Emmie blush harder. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you. I’m terrible at it, too! Whenever Evan needs something repaired, I sneak off to one of the other women who can work a needle. I’m sure he knows, but he always thanks me as if I did it myself.”
“You’re with Evan?”
“Yes, he’s my mate.” Lucie smiled as she began to finish the edges of her second basket for the day, while Emmie was still barely halfway through her first.
Mate .
The word had floated in conversations, and she had originally brushed it off as a barbaric term the raiders chose to use because of how they treated women – but Lucie said it with reverence.
“What exactly does that mean?” Emmie asked, keeping her eyes on her weaving as she did her best to sound nonchalant.
“Has no one explained —” Lucie sighed and reached for another stack of grasses. “It means I belong to him, and he belongs to me.”
“You belong to him?” She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice, but Lucie laughed sweetly.
“Yes, Emmie, and he
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