The tension between Russ and Iona was subtle and hardly detectable by others. To dwell on what had occurred was advantageous to no one. Of course, there was nothing that escaped the eyes of Brenna. She saw the looks and noticed the new formality between the two. The first moment of opportunity found Brenna scolding Long Sword.
"I hope that you are satisfied with your betrayal, to both Iona and to the brother you love. Must you complicate matters further?" Brenna said to him.
"I need no comment from you to define my errors," Long Sword replied, turning his back to her. "Kieren may seek your advice; I need none from you."
"Your actions prove differently and..."
He had spun around as soon as the words left her lips.
"Then do not concern yourself with my actions."
The look in his blue eyes was cold, but it did not hide pain.
Brenna placed one hand on the man's forearm. "Your disrespect disheartens me Russ."
Russ looked down at the old warn hand and then into the woman's eyes.
"That is and has always been a choice that is yours to make."
Brenna flinched. Within the hollows of her heart, she felt concern for this man on the cusp of greatness. His words cut deep. His knife was sharp.
Iona had no knowledge of what she had said in the height of her gratification. However, guilt did lay its claim. But, the one she pined for had no use for her. She belonged to no one and owed no man her loyalty. Russ had given her something she had never known. For the first time, Iona had experienced a man whose goal was to please. His pleasure came from giving her pleasure. Her body had never felt so alive. That in itself was a gift.
Russ continued to attend to her, but he was careful never to be completely alone with her or too intimate. He vowed to never let what happened between them happen again. He knew now that Iona could never truly belong to another. Her inner self, the one that laughs at both the mind and body belonged to Kieren. He had only touched her body and teased her mind, but he would never have her heart. She truly was in love with his brother.
Too, Russ felt that he had done no wrong and the result of his actions hurt no one but himself. The relationship he shared with his brother could not easily be put into words. It encompassed every corner of his life. Resentment could never spread root between them. Iona's reaction only fed his devotion to Kieren and assured Russ of what he had discerned long ago. His brother was a man unrivaled.
One day Iona was left to entertain herself. There were things that often required Russ' attention in Kieren's absence—more so now. He never discussed them with her. Iona was more than aware that men often shared things with one another that were not suitable for the ears of women. Some things were better left unsaid and unseen.
Still, on those days he was missed and Iona was left to her own boredom.
She knew that a guardian for her was somewhere. Russ still refused to leave her completely alone. He simply chose his replacements well. A frustrated Iona could never pick them from the crowd.
After completing her chores, she wandered around the market. Changes in the weather brought changes all around her. As her feelings of freedom expanded, she grew increasingly curious.
The warmer weather brought an influx of new and interesting faces. The village was a center of trade. Everything was available. Iona liked to walk around and discover. Beautiful yards of colored cloth and glittering baubles interested her most. She loved the way they showed against her golden skin.
However, her search ran deeper than just vanity. She hoped to one day find the cloth that her life was exchanged for. She would never forget the shade of it or the sheen of its surface. A promise had been made. If there was a way to purchase such cloth, she would. Iona knew that it would only be a symbol; but, she would have all of it and not just a portion. Iona would rub it across her cheek to feel its fine quality. She would smell the colorings. She would remember. Then, with great satisfaction, Iona would watch it burn. The scent of its destruction would fill her nostrils. Just like the rising smoke, Iona's hurt would float away. She would forget. She would truly be free. She would become a master of self.
At least, that is what she hoped for.
Along the perimeter of the market was an unusual stand. The market was ruthless when it came to unspoken assigned territory. This stand was obviously unwelcomed. They had not completely packed up, most likely hoping to attract customers as the others closed. Russ usually paid for her purchases in the market square. Iona had never thought of obtaining her own currency or creating crafts to trade. Sometimes she accompanied Brenna. Brenna had no time for what she found unnecessary. Gunner was impossible to shop with. To him, the glistening of tempered steel was the only beauty to be found in this world.
The owner of the stand was immediately happy to receive her and smiled as she fingered some items. To be given kindness from a merchant that was unfamiliar with her situation was a rarity. Generally they were drenched in their superstitions. Some thought her to be dishonest and without the means to purchase. Others believed her to be the sign of bad luck. But this graying old man let her look freely and turned away from his packing to show her special items.
Suddenly from behind the thick cloth that acted as a backdrop for the stand, a man emerged. Iona dropped what was in her hands.
This man was as tall as Kieren but not as muscular. His clothing was unusually draped across him. Kieren chose to be close shaven; this man wore no hair at all. The sun reflected off the curve of his bare head. He wore markings on his face and he was the deepest shade of darkness Iona had ever seen.
The sight of him made her catch her breath and bring her hand to her chest. She had run into two or three that could possibly be of her kind. Each had been so unique that she felt no connection. Iona was pale compared to this man and found his darkness remarkable.
He bent low in recognition and smiled as he rose. His teeth were blinding against the darkness of his skin. He then moved towards Iona.
Wrong move.
He almost stepped into the tip of Long Sword's blade, the point of which stood at the dark one's throat and was more than ready to fulfill its purpose. The two men stood eye to eye, with Iona safely placed behind Long Sword.
Long Sword was smooth and swift with his movements; Iona had barely blinked an eye and found herself facing Long Sword's broad back.
"Careful Moor..." Long Sword said in a voice so threatening it made Iona shiver.
Iona placed her hand against his back to keep her balance. Long Sword was perfectly still, his body tight and ready to spring. If his expression was anything like the sound of his voice, the man of darkness had much to fear.
"Your value means nothing to me Blåmenn. To kill you would require little effort and give me great satisfaction."
"He is mine," the shop keeper nervously intervened. "He means no harm to the girl. He is gentle of nature and merely curious."
"Must I repeat myself to you peddler?" Long Sword challenged, revealing a dagger in his other hand. "Your value means little to me as well. On this day you too could easily lose your life."
Gazing at Long Sword without fear, the man of darkness stepped back and bent slightly as an act of submission.
"Please," the shopkeeper begged, "what must I do to make amends for this offense? Maybe this most valued slave desires something that I offer? Anything is hers. She has only to point it out."
Long Sword put one of his well-aimed weapons away. The other stayed steadily aimed at the so-called Moor.
Iona had always known that Long Sword hid his armaments as did his brother, but had never seen them aimed to kill—maim maybe but not kill.
"There is nothing you can trade for her discomfort," Long Sword growled. "And, she is no one's slave. There are no slaves here and your pet is held responsible for his own actions."
Iona tried to peek around Long Sword, but the way he positioned himself made it impossible to see the dark one. But, from her position she could clearly see the shopkeeper's fear.
"Forgive both of our transgressions," the shopkeeper pleaded.
