In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 49: Condemnation

"Luka!"

Michek, having stepped demurely out into the open and closed Mother's lodge door behind them, could no longer help herself. She gave a hearty squeal and leaped into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and nuzzling his ear with her nose, the way she knew he liked. Tonight, he smelled like fresh rain.

"Kitten," whispered Luka, clutching her tightly to his breast and swinging her around once, then twice.

"I have missed you! Do you know how many preparations we could have been making for our wedding the past week? Formal invitations, a design for an altar, matching chemises for the ladies-in-waiting-- and my wedding dress!"

"Michek--"

"White lace, silk, a belt around the middle made from golden twine that will jump-start our chances at baby-making--"

"Michek!" Luka pried her hands from around his neck and set her down in front of him carefully. Although it was very late and not many Evening folk were about, the few grandfathers who lingered and smothered the ashes from that night's dinner fires glanced in their direction disapprovingly. Regardless of where one stood on the matter of Ziuta's guilt or innocence, a person would die in the morning nonetheless. It was bad form to be seen hopping about like an excited puppy.

Michek looked up at him with wounded eyes. Was he not happy to see her?

"Mee, you should not be behaving like this."

"How can I help it?" she begged. "We are supposed to be discussing our future together, and instead I have barely seen you twice in the last week!"

"I have been busy. Part of that time has been spent guarding Ziuta in her prison, where even now she is locked away unjustly. Have you forgotten that?"

Michek took a step back and folded her hands, hoping feverishly that he would not see the flicker of annoyance passing before her stone-grey eyes. Good Moons, but how handsome he was! Beneath the gorgeous dapple of leaf-shaped star-light, which filtered into the village via the strong limbs of outlying bolberry trees, Michek could see every muscle, every bulge, every sinewy tendon. How she longed to rip the tunic straight off his body and simple admire him there, as naked as the day his mother bore him! The endless depths of his own granite eyes were both intense and serious as they probed hers; but the first thing she'd promised herself she would do once they had married was give the man a hair-cut. Yes, a man approaching twenty years should not have waist-length hair that rivaled a woman's. He was healthy and robust, and no evil spirits had conspired to take him in the night.

My, how she loved him! How she wanted him!

And soon, he was to be all hers.

"Please forgive me," she acknowledged, in the most contrite tone she could manage. Luka inclined his head and only stared. Michek, knowing how much she must glow in the star-light with her own blonde curls in plaits wrapped around each ear, smiled with as much confidence as she could muster. "When a woman is separated from the man she loves, her mind loses itself. It can be days to feel like one's self again. Surely you can understand..."

"Ziuta is your adopted sister," Luka said, without cracking a smile. "You have not mentioned her. You have not been with the crowds of women who discuss her guilt or innocence."

"I do not gossip with the busy-bodies of Looks Thrice!" Michek argued, which was only a half-truth. "I stay at home and fold laundry with my twin sister. You know this already; a family that has swelled from six members to eight has more laundry than you can possibly imagine."

Luka folded his arms. "I don't believe you."

Something inside of Michek's chest brushed her heart, causing a sudden premature contraction. "Oh?" she asked, trying to sound playful. "And why not?"