Raven's Heart (𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓟𝓛𝓔𝓣𝓔)

CHAPTER TWELVE

The following morning, as he rode through the camp on his way to Mahan's tent, Sandor noticed that the Damark were no longer wary of him. While there were no effusive greetings, the children didn't hide, the women didn't shy away and some of the men nodded an acknowledgement as he passed.

In a way, he found that he admired their simple lifestyle. While Mahan was the chief, he lived no differently than his clan. Isamu and Chato had told him that Boar and Weasel were harsh and impatient with the weak or infirm, but Mahan's clan took care of its less fortunate members. True, not all of the clans were as compassionate, but here, no one went hungry or without shelter.

He had finally banished most of his mixed feelings over his impending marriage. Those niggling voices, he realized, were merely the ghosts of 'proper' society that had plagued him socially for most of his life. He was glad to consign them to oblivion. Some part of him was also complaining over the haste and political overtones. But in his deepest thoughts Sandor knew that, whatever anyone else thought, his relationship with Anaya was far more than that. Had they had the opportunity to meet outside the present circumstances, he still would have liked her, and found her admirable.

Argian was outside and ready to ride when he approached Mahan's tent. Achyut, who was honing an axe, looked up and nodded a greeting. A large pile of wood by the tent testified to the Damark's morning labors. The smell of smoking meat was in the air. There was a rustle at the door and Anaya came out, ducking through the tent flap and letting it fall behind her. She smiled at him and he smiled back, utterly at ease.

That by itself was like a miracle. With any other eligible female, he had always felt a certain constraint. Whether it was because of his fears of rejection or worry over unintentionally offending or making a fool of himself he didn't know. All he knew was that it wasn't there with Anaya. Kenet had been absolutely right to invoked tynged, Sandor thought. This woman was unlike any other he knew. He was sure they would face some awkwardness and obstacles from time to time, but she accepted him as he was and she wasn't one to manipulate or hold grudges.

Both knew that she was every bit the rider he was and needed no help. Still, he held Argian's reins while Anaya mounted, not because it was necessary, but because he liked to do these little things for her. It was respect, not condescension and she seemed to understand and accept the difference. The course of their interactions was nothing like it would have been with an Enniskillen woman, but the informal tenor of their relationship suited him just fine.

They rode along the river, following it upstream towards the mountains. It was a pleasant ride, and a pleasant morning. Anaya was full of questions about Ranfurly, continuing the conversation of the previous evening. Circling the camp, they came back through the market. They stopped to get a sweet snack from a vendor then made their way back to her tent.

"What's this?" Sandor pulled up, seeing a crowd gathered. Then he saw that Bakur was speaking with Mahan, gesturing angrily as he spoke. Achyut stood just behind his Chief, his hand on his dagger.

"Trouble," muttered Anaya, stopping Argian beside him. "With Bakur it's always trouble."

"There's one in every village, it seems." He nudged Champ forward, walking the war horse right up behind Bakur. As though he was cued (and perhaps he was) the stallion neighed loudly, causing Bakur to jump in surprise. A titter came from the crowd as the Damark rounded angrily on the Duke.

"I do not understand," said Mahan firmly, drawing Bakur's attention back to him, "what it is you seek to gain by this protest. The War Raven brought us peace, and not only did he give that to the clans, but he gave a fine gift of horses as well—a gift that outmatched any offered for my daughter. You have no standing for a challenge."