In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 33: Prayer to the Twin Moons

Dijaq was seething.

In fact, he was more than seething. He felt as though his lower intestine were filled with molten lava. Waru was not her old, demure, coquettish self after all; she had used her injury to fool him and put her wiles to good use after the search party had returned, with Malaraq as bile-faced as ever and Luka barely concealing his pride at carrying the dirtied, flush little red-haired girl in his arms.

That, alone, had caused stomach contents to rise in Dijaq's throat...but when Waru, bound forever to his side like abalone to a sea-cow, had noticed Ziuta looking in his direction, she had taken her chance. She had stepped in front of him-- blocking Dijaq's view of his beautiful, fire-haired angel-- and kissed him, taking both of his flushed cheeks in each of her soft, fragrant palms.

You devil. You harpy! How could you? As Luka looked on in satisfaction, Dijaq gripped Waru's wrists, held them out in front of him and shook them-- hard. "What kind of young woman are you?" he'd snapped, mortified. "To show such public displays of affection when a search party is bringing home two lost members and we must find answers for this debacle?"

Waru had tried to conceal a smirk; it hadn't worked. "Don't you mean one lost member?"

"Get away from me!" Dijaq gave her a shove toward Amiechek's dwelling and stalked angrily across the courtyard, elbowing his way through curious on-lookers and stopping when he stood between Pomoq and the blubber-laden Matron.

"You'll watch how you treat a daughter of one of our Council members!" Amiechek had barked at him, but Dijaq was quick with his own retort.

"And perhaps you will expend just as much energy teaching your child that she must have the proper manners and respect when dealing with-- with public displays of amorousness!"

Amiechek, Dijaq knew, had nothing good to say to this, and so she raised her nose high into the air, opting to say nothing.

Dijaq stole a peek at Ziuta and wished immediately that he hadn't. His spirit sank like a heavy tree root into a storm-churned river; Ziuta had seen their 'kiss'. He knew she had...he could tell. The set of her eyes, the sadness behind their cool exterior, and the heart-breaking way her pretty mouth turned down at the corners spoke volumes. If there were ever a chance in all of Weema-- in a million years, even in two billion-- that Ziuta might have loved him again, it had disappeared...flitting away from the deflated bubble called 'hope' that had tried feebly to bud within Dijaq's chest.

Without Ziuta, he was broken. He could remember now all of the irresistible feelings he'd had for the girl come rushing back to him: the way he felt when those exotic eyes probed his own, the haughty way she had shrieked with laughter when he had first refused to lay a hand on Water Fly...the delicate, graceful way she ran streaking through Hallow's Wood-- like one of the rare four-pronged deer that the folks from Hidden Well claimed as their own under hunting rights.

There would be no explaining, no way to say that 'it isn't what you think!' Nothing would take Ziuta's pain away...and Waru had known it. Like the shrew she was, she had been biding her time.

"Ziuta--" Dijaq began, reaching out with both hands palm-up in an imploring gesture-- but it was no use. Luka, unusually protective of the young girl in his arms, used one hand to shoot him an obscene gesture. There were gasps from the crowd, followed by nervous titters.

The nerve!

Dijaq balled his fists and was just stepping forward when Ziuta abruptly turned her head away and laid it carefully against Luka's chest, whereupon he crooned comforting words and laid a free hand on her head, lightly stroking the deep, rich red hair, allowing each shining strand to trail through his fingers like gossamer.