Page 47 of Taken to Lemora
I want to see the mountains and the icy cliffs that lie East. I want to pick bulberry from the fields in Bebette’s village. I want to drink from the suspended river that flows up the cursed mountain, and not down it. I want to go to one of the inns and dance. I want to sleep under the stars out in the open. I want to see the sandy dunes that make up the Dark Flats. Yeffa, most of all, I want to see these.
But I won’t be able to if my mate is intent on shackling me.
I don’t know how long I sit there staring out at everything when I hear a harried voice call my name. “Essmira! Are you alright?”
The pounding of pad pad hooves draws my attention to the ground below. “Gorman! You’re back.”
“I heard that Raingar was keeping you prisoner…” He looks stricken and I feel immediately guilty. I know he’d been occupied with something in the countryside and I hope it wasn’t important, knowing that he came back for this.
“I’m so sorry. It’s not what it seems at all. I actually barricaded myself in this room. I wanted a good lunar’s rest and it took him all lunar to realize where I was.”
Gorman stares at me for a suspended breath, then cracks a smile. It’s a rare sighting, that grin. “Fabulous. Are you well, then?”
“Yeffa. Never better.” And I mean it. I feel like a new female. One that has a mate. And he’s a mess. And I’m miriga. And I don’t know how to be.
But we’re learning.
And trying.
And that’s all any miriga and her mate can ever hope to do.
“You’re certain? There’s nothing you need?”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl and I cover it with my hand. “I’m actually a little hungry.”
“Come down then. I’ll have Eewa prepare something for you…”
“I actually can’t. Raingar’s asleep in front of the door and I don’t want to wake him. He didn’t sleep last lunar.”
Gorman’s grin stretches even wider. “So…you’ve forgiven him, then?”
“Yeffa. Most definitely. But he doesn’t know it and I don’t intend to tell him.”
And then he laughs. Gorman actually laughs. It’s a strange sound, like several chords being plucked in several very different instruments, but winning that sound from him? It makes me feel like I can do anything.
“I am miriga,” I whisper to myself. I rub my palm and its scar. “I can do anything.”
“Did you know that all of the towers have escape hatches in case of fires?”
I blink. “Truly?”
“Come down from there and I’ll take you to the village. There’s a stir going on at the pub. There should be food there, too.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Perhaps, I don’t need to worry about shackles, after all. Not when there are hatches built into them.
“Just to warn you, it can be a debaucherous affair. I likely won’t stay all lunar, but you’ll be in good hands if you choose to.”
Trust. It makes me sparkle and shine. I wish this could be the type of trust Raingar has in me, too. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Gorman. Now…uhm…how do I get down?”
His grin turns a little wicked then and he raises both of his pointed brows. “How do you feel about rope, miriga?”
“Rope? Like repelling down these four stories with a rope?”
He nods.
My heart beats faster in the scar across my palm. I touch it, reminded, ever reminded. “I feel excited.”
“Then check the chest at the foot of the bed and come outside. The party at Winter’s End should be in full swing by the time we arrive.”
