managed to elude the dead’s attention, she was as good as dead anyway. She gently pried his fingers from her arms.
She looked in her brother’s eyes and saw understanding overtake his need to protect her. The clan came first. They both knew this, had known it since childhood. With fists clenched until the sinews stood out, Bratton lowered his hands to his sides.
Iron grips jerked Ilyenna away from him. Refusing to be dragged, she forced herself to keep her feet under her. The Tyrans shoved her into Undon’s arms. He jerked her back by her hair and held his axe to the soft skin of her throat. She glared at him, daring him to kill her. The ringing of hammers set her teeth on edge.
Undon’s gaze lingered on her face. “I remember your mother, Clan Mistress Ilyenna. Perhaps instead of killing Otec, I’ll satisfy myself with you.” He pulled back his half-moon axe. Cries erupted from her clan.
So another cost of seeking the dead would be her life. So be it. At least she had saved her brother and father. She shut her eyes and turned away.
“Wait,” she heard Darrien say. She opened her eyes to see his hand on his father’s arm.
Undon paused. His son stepped forward and probed the slash in Ilyenna’s dress. She shuddered as his fingers touched her bare flesh. His brows knit together. “What kind of power is this?” he murmured so softly she was sure no one else heard him.
At some point in the scuffle, her braid had come loose. He took advantage, sifting through her black hair, something only her husband should ever do. He caressed her jaw and throat. “White as milk,” he murmured. Leaning in, he whispered, “My brother wouldn’t have hurt you. You’d have been better off to kill me. I’ll make you pay for your mistake, little one. And I’ll enjoy every moment of it.”
A shiver of terror ran down her spine.
“Make her the tiam instead, Father,” he said loudly.
Undon slowly nodded. “Very good, Darrien. That’ll keep the Shyle in line.”
“No,” her father gasped. “I’d rather you killed her.”
Ilyenna saw the desperation on her father’s face—desperation that mirrored her brother’s. As she understood, her stomach roiled. More than her life was at stake. Darrien would force her to marry him. That would give him claim to the Shyle.
Undon sneered at her father. “You know the law, Otec. Any clan who trespasses against another is subject to reparation.”
Her father spat at his feet. “The Council orders reparation when one clan wrongs another, not you! You’re no better than a Raider!”
Undon chuckled darkly before stepping so close to Ilyenna she couldn’t focus on his face. She forced herself to stand erect, her shoulders thrown back. “I shall leave the choice with you, Ilyenna. Five years as my tiam. Serve faithfully, submit to my will, and I’ll allow the Shyle to live as long as they hold to the rest of the terms.”
“No, Ilyenna,” the cry was from her brother and was echoed by her clan.
Her head ached. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. Instead, she narrowed her gaze. “You’ll leave our lands alone?”
Ondon shrugged. “If your people pay honestly and faithfully, I’ll leave their lands intact.”
Her shoulders dropped. A tiam—a slave but for the rights she bargained for. But her time wouldn’t last. The Council would intervene. They had to. She held onto that candle flame of hope, wavering as it was. “I will submit my sweat, but I will never marry you. You’ll not harm me, by violence or neglect.”
Undon turned to his son. “Darrien?”
His gaze felt hot against her skin. “I’ll not marry her unless she asks for it.”
She saw the triumph in Darrien’s face. But soon he’d find out just how strong a Shyle clanwoman could be.
Undon nodded. “And I agree not to beat you.”
It was better than she could have hoped for, but her words tasted like bile. “I submit. I will serve five years as tiam.”
Her clan howled with
She looked in her brother’s eyes and saw understanding overtake his need to protect her. The clan came first. They both knew this, had known it since childhood. With fists clenched until the sinews stood out, Bratton lowered his hands to his sides.
Iron grips jerked Ilyenna away from him. Refusing to be dragged, she forced herself to keep her feet under her. The Tyrans shoved her into Undon’s arms. He jerked her back by her hair and held his axe to the soft skin of her throat. She glared at him, daring him to kill her. The ringing of hammers set her teeth on edge.
Undon’s gaze lingered on her face. “I remember your mother, Clan Mistress Ilyenna. Perhaps instead of killing Otec, I’ll satisfy myself with you.” He pulled back his half-moon axe. Cries erupted from her clan.
So another cost of seeking the dead would be her life. So be it. At least she had saved her brother and father. She shut her eyes and turned away.
“Wait,” she heard Darrien say. She opened her eyes to see his hand on his father’s arm.
Undon paused. His son stepped forward and probed the slash in Ilyenna’s dress. She shuddered as his fingers touched her bare flesh. His brows knit together. “What kind of power is this?” he murmured so softly she was sure no one else heard him.
At some point in the scuffle, her braid had come loose. He took advantage, sifting through her black hair, something only her husband should ever do. He caressed her jaw and throat. “White as milk,” he murmured. Leaning in, he whispered, “My brother wouldn’t have hurt you. You’d have been better off to kill me. I’ll make you pay for your mistake, little one. And I’ll enjoy every moment of it.”
A shiver of terror ran down her spine.
“Make her the tiam instead, Father,” he said loudly.
Undon slowly nodded. “Very good, Darrien. That’ll keep the Shyle in line.”
“No,” her father gasped. “I’d rather you killed her.”
Ilyenna saw the desperation on her father’s face—desperation that mirrored her brother’s. As she understood, her stomach roiled. More than her life was at stake. Darrien would force her to marry him. That would give him claim to the Shyle.
Undon sneered at her father. “You know the law, Otec. Any clan who trespasses against another is subject to reparation.”
Her father spat at his feet. “The Council orders reparation when one clan wrongs another, not you! You’re no better than a Raider!”
Undon chuckled darkly before stepping so close to Ilyenna she couldn’t focus on his face. She forced herself to stand erect, her shoulders thrown back. “I shall leave the choice with you, Ilyenna. Five years as my tiam. Serve faithfully, submit to my will, and I’ll allow the Shyle to live as long as they hold to the rest of the terms.”
“No, Ilyenna,” the cry was from her brother and was echoed by her clan.
Her head ached. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. Instead, she narrowed her gaze. “You’ll leave our lands alone?”
Ondon shrugged. “If your people pay honestly and faithfully, I’ll leave their lands intact.”
Her shoulders dropped. A tiam—a slave but for the rights she bargained for. But her time wouldn’t last. The Council would intervene. They had to. She held onto that candle flame of hope, wavering as it was. “I will submit my sweat, but I will never marry you. You’ll not harm me, by violence or neglect.”
Undon turned to his son. “Darrien?”
His gaze felt hot against her skin. “I’ll not marry her unless she asks for it.”
She saw the triumph in Darrien’s face. But soon he’d find out just how strong a Shyle clanwoman could be.
Undon nodded. “And I agree not to beat you.”
It was better than she could have hoped for, but her words tasted like bile. “I submit. I will serve five years as tiam.”
Her clan howled with
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