Read Online Exile's Children by Angus Wells - Free Book Online Page A

Chakthi.”
    His voice softened and she heard admiration in it, and love. She said, “No, I’d not compare either of you to those two. But why should you not become akaman?”
    He groaned. “And carry all that burden? My father took it up when he was not much older than I, and I saw the years it set on him. I’d no more than a warrior—free to ride and hunt where I will, not always thinking on the clan. I’d”—he chuckled into her hair—“go out to steal Tachyn horses without concerning myself with Chakthi’s feelings. I’d be free, Arrhyna! I’ve no interest in the politics of akamans and wakanishas.”
    â€œBut,” she began, and was silenced by his finger against her lips.
    She bit it gently as he said, “Listen. This is such decision as my father makes—when I told him I’d approach you and ask you to be my wife, he looked to dissuade me. He told me Vachyr courted you, and I should offend the Tachyn; that were I Vachyr’s rival, I’d offend Chakthi, and likely he find reason to come against us. He pointed out all the Commacht maidens I might have. Their beauty, their parents’ wealth …”
    Arrhyna loosed her teeth from his finger as he chuckled and said, “Many of them were very lovely. Indeed … Ach!”
    Her teeth fastened again, harder.
    â€œBut none compared to you,” he said, his hand no longer against her lips, but tracing the contours of her body. “I told him I’d have no other. That could I not have you, then I’d live solitary and never wed. He told me I was crazed; that I risked the welfare of all the Commacht in pursuit of blind love. He did his best to dissuade me …”
    â€œBut,” she said, “did not succeed. For which I thank the Maker.”
    â€œAs do I,” he said earnestly. “But my father would have it otherwise. Had he his way, then you should now be wed to Vachyr.”
    She shuddered: the notion was horrible. But still … “He has shown me only kindness,” She said. “Him and your mother both.”
    Rannach said, “He
is
kind. That makes it harder. Think on it.” His voice grew fierce and she cringed, but against him. “To know what someone wants—what they desire fierce as life itself—and tell them ‘No, do otherwise.’ To tell them ‘So you love this woman, but forget her, quite her. Choose another, for the good of the clan.’ I could not do that, but my father did.”
    â€œSurely,” she said even as she thought how glad she was Rannach had ignored him, “he had to. For the good of the clan. And he supported you in the end.”
    â€œYes.” Rannach loosed a gusty breath. “But only when he saw I’d not be shifted from my course.”
    â€œHe’s akaman,” she said.
    Rannach said, “Yes,” again and sighed again. “And for such reasons I’d not be. And that disappoints him.”
    â€œWhat,” she asked, “would you have done?”
    â€œWere I akaman?” He laughed. “I’d have given my blessing and told Chakthi to set his head under his horse’s tail; and did it come to war, then so be it.”
    Arrhyna felt pride warm her: that he could love her so well. But even so, he seemed foolhardy. She remembered friends and said, “It shall not, eh? Not now, not after what your mother told us?”
    Rannach said, “Not by my hand. Ach, my father thinks I am foolish—he fears I’ll vaunt you before Vachyr and Chakthi! He thinks me a fool, even though I gave him my word. He think me entirely irresponsible.”
    Against his shoulder she said, “Perhaps he is only careful of all the People. And knows the course Chakthi’s temper takes.”
    â€œAnd so,” Rannach said, “He sent my mother to speak with me? Not come himself?”
    â€œHad he?” she asked, thinking