Kevat-aanta. With the man who found your lost baby sister.”
He heard the rustle as she sat up. “You think I fell in love with you for what you could do? ”
Jareth turned, furious. “Didn’t you? What if I hadn’t found Vikka? What if she’d died, lost in the forest?”
“Of course I was happy you found her, but—”
“And who rolled me off the blanket so I could feel the earth at my back as you rode me like a—”
He bit back the worst of the words, but it was already too late. He knew he had gone too far. She froze, then slowly sank back down on the bed. His impotent anger bled away as he turned to touch her, and this time it was Taya who refused her mate’s caress. Even in the dim light, he could see the sparkle of tears on her face.
“I loved you because you cared, Jareth,” Taya said thickly. “Not for what you did. I saw how much you wanted to find Vikka. I saw how you felt the pain of the dying flower. Don’t you realize how others would perceive this ability? Other men would set themselves up as all-powerful rulers, withholding spring or harvest to punish those who didn’t follow them. That never even entered your thoughts. You loved the earth and stones and flowers, and you felt their joy and their pain. You protected them even as you guided them through the seasons. You asked for them to yield their bounty, you never demanded it. That’s the man I fell in love with.”
She fell silent. Then: “I wonder where that man has gone.”
5
After a cloudless night in which the gods danced in the sky, their blue and white coats sending sparks of colors to paint the night in vibrant hues, the dawn that followed was cold and clear. As Jareth fastened his cloak, he stated, “I am going hunting with the men. The sky is clear, for the moment, and we must not waste this opportunity.”
His wife and daughter nodded, their eyes downcast. Jareth remembered when he used to love looking into both sets of blue eyes. One woman held love and a deep passion; the other adoration and unconditional devotion. Neither wanted to look at him now, and he supposed he couldn’t blame them.
It will be better tonight, he thought. When the men and I re turn with food for the tables, it will be better. At least I will have been able to provide something for my family.
He thought about speaking the words aloud, but decided against it. He would let his actions speak for him. He rose and went for the door. As he placed his hand on it, he heard Taya say softly, “Be careful.”
He nodded, his back to her, unable, unwilling to look at her, to kiss her goodbye. Annu stood beside the door, holding Parvan. She focused her attention on the baby to avoid looking at her father. The infant’s soft gurgle melted something inside Jareth, and he reached to stroke the soft curve of his son’s cheek. Parvan reached up a tiny hand and clutched Jareth’s finger, and the trusting gesture broke Jareth’s heart. Tears stung his eyes, and abruptly he tugged open the door.
It will be better tonight.
The men had gathered in the center of the village, carrying bows and arrows, large hunting knives and small axes. The blades were sharp, the arrows straight and well-fletched. During the long, dark days while the storms raged, there was nothing else to do but stay inside and hone weapons. Jareth knew the cycle. Weapons meant a kill, a kill meant food, and food meant life.
The land should have been well into late spring. The beasts of field and forests had already dropped their young. Jareth and the others had often come across small, frozen bodies that ought to have grown strong and sturdy from mother’s milk and warm sunshine. And even as he mourned the deaths that should not have been, Jareth assisted the hunters as they gathered up the corpses and brought them home. Food was food.
He wondered how the bees fared. Were they all dead in their hives by now? The trees had not blossomed; there would be no flowers for them now, no
He heard the rustle as she sat up. “You think I fell in love with you for what you could do? ”
Jareth turned, furious. “Didn’t you? What if I hadn’t found Vikka? What if she’d died, lost in the forest?”
“Of course I was happy you found her, but—”
“And who rolled me off the blanket so I could feel the earth at my back as you rode me like a—”
He bit back the worst of the words, but it was already too late. He knew he had gone too far. She froze, then slowly sank back down on the bed. His impotent anger bled away as he turned to touch her, and this time it was Taya who refused her mate’s caress. Even in the dim light, he could see the sparkle of tears on her face.
“I loved you because you cared, Jareth,” Taya said thickly. “Not for what you did. I saw how much you wanted to find Vikka. I saw how you felt the pain of the dying flower. Don’t you realize how others would perceive this ability? Other men would set themselves up as all-powerful rulers, withholding spring or harvest to punish those who didn’t follow them. That never even entered your thoughts. You loved the earth and stones and flowers, and you felt their joy and their pain. You protected them even as you guided them through the seasons. You asked for them to yield their bounty, you never demanded it. That’s the man I fell in love with.”
She fell silent. Then: “I wonder where that man has gone.”
5
After a cloudless night in which the gods danced in the sky, their blue and white coats sending sparks of colors to paint the night in vibrant hues, the dawn that followed was cold and clear. As Jareth fastened his cloak, he stated, “I am going hunting with the men. The sky is clear, for the moment, and we must not waste this opportunity.”
His wife and daughter nodded, their eyes downcast. Jareth remembered when he used to love looking into both sets of blue eyes. One woman held love and a deep passion; the other adoration and unconditional devotion. Neither wanted to look at him now, and he supposed he couldn’t blame them.
It will be better tonight, he thought. When the men and I re turn with food for the tables, it will be better. At least I will have been able to provide something for my family.
He thought about speaking the words aloud, but decided against it. He would let his actions speak for him. He rose and went for the door. As he placed his hand on it, he heard Taya say softly, “Be careful.”
He nodded, his back to her, unable, unwilling to look at her, to kiss her goodbye. Annu stood beside the door, holding Parvan. She focused her attention on the baby to avoid looking at her father. The infant’s soft gurgle melted something inside Jareth, and he reached to stroke the soft curve of his son’s cheek. Parvan reached up a tiny hand and clutched Jareth’s finger, and the trusting gesture broke Jareth’s heart. Tears stung his eyes, and abruptly he tugged open the door.
It will be better tonight.
The men had gathered in the center of the village, carrying bows and arrows, large hunting knives and small axes. The blades were sharp, the arrows straight and well-fletched. During the long, dark days while the storms raged, there was nothing else to do but stay inside and hone weapons. Jareth knew the cycle. Weapons meant a kill, a kill meant food, and food meant life.
The land should have been well into late spring. The beasts of field and forests had already dropped their young. Jareth and the others had often come across small, frozen bodies that ought to have grown strong and sturdy from mother’s milk and warm sunshine. And even as he mourned the deaths that should not have been, Jareth assisted the hunters as they gathered up the corpses and brought them home. Food was food.
He wondered how the bees fared. Were they all dead in their hives by now? The trees had not blossomed; there would be no flowers for them now, no
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