For the Clan Read online

Then, as if someone took pity on her trifles, a bright yellow butterfly fluttered through the air and landed gracefully on the potato plant beside Cayra. She inhaled, holding her breath while the delicate wings twitched, their slight shimmer golden in the sunlight.

  The moment she exhaled, the butterfly flew away, stealing a fragment of Cayra's heart with it.

  She marveled at how anything beautiful and pure survived. We humans make such a muck of things. Just can't help ourselves. Maybe that's why I prefer the plants over people. They don't destroy, talk, or lie.

  Though not the sole reason, it was enough. The other reasons only led her back to her parents and her sister, and she didn't want to think about them. Otherwise she'd never stop. The dead had to die, or she'd lose the rest of her mind.

  Standing, Cayra glanced to the camp a hundred yards behind her. People bustled through the spaces between tents, but finding Jace in the middle of the camp was easy. She recognized his lean form in a faded green t-shirt and beige cargo pants immediately. Beside him in the weapons tent was Roan, wearing the pants and collared shirt from his black uniform. Except now, Roan wore a camo bandana, suggesting, just a little, that he was trying to blend in. Although considering all the time he'd spent with the governtary, she couldn't blame him for clinging to what he knew. She probably would've done the same.

  But the way Roan handled the assault rifle bothered her.

  Cayra observed Roan's hands carefully, aware that Jace did the same things as Roan. They tore the weapons apart, inspecting the barrels and pistol grips, then the magazines. Their nonchalance made her want to march to the tent and demand they stop fooling around—that they should find something better to do.

  Even if Roan hadn't been there, she still would've wanted to tell Jace the same thing. Of their whole way of life, guns bothered her the most, outdone only by the grenade launchers in the back corner of the tent, shrouded in darkness.

  How many times had they traded valuable resources for weapons? How many more people would die over a conflict of values? She could live with being a member of the Disenfranchised, forfeiting their right to vote and live in the cities protected by the governtary's fair-weather justice. She'd even accepted being called a twenty-second century hippie and destitute tree hugger, taking them as compliments instead of the insults the metropolises insisted they were. Yes, the clans traded skills, knowledge, agricultural goods, naturopathic medicines, and handmade items made from natural resources the metropolises had lost in their addiction to progress. She would never be ashamed about any of it.

  It was the unnamed war she couldn't take; the deaths of citizens choosing to live off the land instead of being branded cattle, caged inside a militant frame. None of it made sense, not when greed and lust were stripped away, leaving the barest truth.

  And that's why we need to know how to fight, Cayra reminded herself. Because the world doesn't make sense; people don't make sense. Survival was the only reason she tolerated the guns. Her love for the clans outdid her hatred of weapons. And now Roan's here, if they were to attack, he could—

  Cayra slouched. Just because Roan stayed didn't mean he was willing to protect them. He discussed tactics with Jace, but it didn't mean he intended to do anything with them. Roan's loyalties weren't easy to pin down, and he wasn't an easy read. While she trusted Jace, his judgment was suspect.

  More than that, it was obvious Roan wanted nothing to do with her. He avoided her, though subtly. Few people would've noticed that he shrank back at her touch or tensed whenever he couldn't shirk her.

  Not even Jace realized. If he did, he hadn't said anything.

  Which is funny, because aren't I supposed to be the one afraid of him? Cayra snorted, covering the roots of the potato plants. Maybe she was defective. Maybe she was too confident for her own good. Either way, she didn't fear Roan. She didn't care about his magical abilities, whatever they were. So long as he didn't hurt anyone, it wasn't her concern.

  Deep down, it was a different story. While she'd never admit it out loud, she wished someone like him could have been with Deliverance as they died. Even if Roan couldn't have stopped the attack or saved their lives, he could've helped them die faster. They could've died peacefully instead of choking on chemicals, drowning in blood while their insides liquefied.

  If Clan Teach wasn't careful, the same fate could befall them. They'd need Roan then.

  But that wasn't the reason Jace allowed him to stay. There was more, something Jace wasn't telling her. Something she needed to know.

  Something both men hid—badly.

  Cayra turned back. Jace and Roan compared knives, the blades catching the sunlight. Roan's eyes were covered, but she remembered the glances he'd given Jace when the glasses were off. She'd seen the way Roan regarded Jace as though they weren't only friends. And Jace had returned those glances.

  Glances similar to those Jace gave her.

  They wouldn't have bothered her if she hadn't already noticed the other small details in their curious relationship. More than once, she'd seen them stand close together, one of them occasionally placing his hand on the other's hip or sliding across the back flirtatiously. And the way Jace leaned into Roan, his lips close to Roan's ear, his body curving inwards to Roan's as if seeking favour. They didn't act with such familiarity among the clan members, at least not in the direct line of sight of someone. Several times she'd done a double take, wondering if her brain was playing tricks.

  Then she realized the spark in Jace's eyes was back.

  It told her almost everything she needed to know. Almost. Jace's lips needed to tell her the rest.

  When Cayra saw him slip the guns into their cases, she knew there was no better time. Jace could claim Clan Leader Privilege at strategic times, but she could claim wife's privilege anytime she wanted.

  Making her way to the camp, Cayra stripped off her gloves and hat. "Hey," she called as she approached the weapons tent, waving the hat to secure Jace's attention.

  Roan retreated into the tent, hiding from her view.

  One day, you and I are having our own talk, Cayra wanted to tell Roan. Instead, she smiled and kissed Jace's cheek.

  "What's up?" Jace asked, drawing his fingertips across her nose and jaw. "You got dirt."

  "Yeah, I know." Cayra kissed his lips, searching for an answer to the question she couldn't bear to ask. He kissed her back without hesitation, strong and passionate. His hand snaked across her back, pulling her closer.

  She broke away first.

  "Really? Missed me that much? Sampling the mushrooms again?" Jace joked.

  "Someone's got to." Cayra tugged his arm. "Just thought we could talk, that's all."

  "Talk? Oh, crap. What did I do now?"

  "Nothing. I just—let's just go."

  "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want." Jace nodded at Roan before following Cayra to their tent.

  She threw the hat and gloves onto a knee-high table just inside the tent, then peeled off her blue cotton shirt and worn blue overalls. Jace threw himself onto their bed and locked his arms behind his head.

  "If this is your idea of a talk, I don't think I'll have any problem with my end," he said, grinning.

  Cayra pulled on a clean pair of pants and shirt, the thin black fabric stretching over the curves of her breasts and hips. The pout on Jace's lips made her feel better and worse all at the same time.

  "Unfortunately that's not it." Cayra moved to the foot of the bed. "We need to have a serious talk."

  Jace sat up slowly and gripped her hips. "What?"

  She ran her fingers through his dark hair. "I need the truth. More of it, anyway."

  "About what?"

  "You and Roan. What your deal really is."

  "Cay, I…" Jace looked away, pulling his hands from her.

  "I know there are things you're not telling me. I'm not blind or stupid—I see it. I just want to know what's going on," she whispered. "And please don't tell me it's nothing, because it can't be. No one screams anyone's name in the
ir sleep if it's just nothing."

  Jace snapped his head towards her. He appeared confused, his mouth opened.

  "You have, mi corazón, several times, over the whole time we've been married. Just like those times you'd wake up in tears." Cayra cupped his face. "Time and time again, I've asked why. You evade. You've never told me why you were upset. Why you hurt. The only answer I've had is this strange look you get, one I've seen time and time again. The Survivor's Trifecta."

  "What?"

  "Love. Pain. Guilt. Everything you feel when you've lost someone you care for. And you lost him, didn't you?"

  Jace stared at the floor next to her feet and pulled her hands away. "Yeah."

  "Why didn't you just tell me?" Cayra knelt before him. "Jace, look at me. Honey. Just look." She turned his face towards hers. "I'm not offended. You don't have to hide this. I wasn't born yesterday. It doesn't bother me if you loved him. It doesn't. I just wish you'd told me; that you'd have trusted me." She rubbed the wedding ring tattooed on his finger. "This? This is what I care about. We made oaths on these, remember? They might not be metal like the wealthy can afford, but they aren't any less sacred. I promised I'd take care of you. I promised I'd stand by you. I can't do that if you won't let me in—if you won't trust me."

  "I didn't want to hurt you." Jace's expression was a mess of emotions she couldn't begin to pick apart. "I didn't want to bring this into our marriage. We've had it so good. Everything between us—we've gotten through so much, and we've done it together. I didn't want to complicate things. It's just you and me, now. It's over with him."

  "But it's not," Cayra argued softly. "You change whenever you're with him. There's a spark in your eyes, some kind of new life. I haven't seen it since we were teenagers. It's that part of you that died the same day our families packed up and left Huron. I thought maybe it was because we were moving, but it didn't make sense because we'd always done that. You never once told me you were with someone."

  "All this time… and you never asked me?"

  "No. I wanted to, but I couldn't. You seemed so sad. I didn't want to rub it in. I just hoped that if we stayed friends, you might tell me why someday. Or maybe you'd get that spark back. I'd hoped getting married might do it, but… Well, got my answer now."

  Jace clutched her head, his touch gentle despite his stern expression. "Don't. Don't do that, Cay. Don't degrade yourself. Dear god, please don't." He leaned his forehead against hers, stroking her hair. "I don't care about any sparks in my eyes or whatever. I love you. That's why I married you. Not for our clans. Not because someone thought I needed to settle. I did it because I love you. You, me—it has nothing to do with him or anyone else."

  "And I believe you. But just answer me this: are you still in love with him?"

  Jace's hands stopped. Cayra wondered if he was still breathing.

  "I don't…" His words were barely audible, lost to the awkward silence between them.

  "Show me you love me, Jace. Give me this one answer. For us." Cayra clasped his fingers.

  He didn't look her in the eye. "Yes. Or at least with who he used to be."

  "You're falling for this Roan, too," Cayra argued. "You aren't finished with each other. It isn't over. From what I can tell, you're just mourning what you went through; what you weren't allowed to have. It's grief, but there's more to it. If you weren't married, you'd be spending your time with him. Don't tell me you wouldn't."

  "But I am married, and that's the end of it." Jace crossed his arms. "We're friends, that's it. He's fully aware of the line we aren't going to cross. We agreed to leave it alone. We've had the discussion we needed to have. It's done. And I'm yours. That hasn't changed."

  Cayra blinked at the thoughts rumbling through her mind. Their talk was going better than she'd hoped, but shouldn't she be yelling at him? Shouldn't she be storming out? Throwing his things into the dirt and making a scene?

  "Jace, I don't want to fight. I just wanted to know."

  "Now you do. And it's the full truth, honest." Jace hugged her tightly. "Please don't leave. Just give it a chance to work. Please don't leave."

  "I never said I would. I got what I needed." Cayra pulled back and kissed him, hoping it would soothe his fear. "I have to get back to things. So do you."

  "Cay—"

  Cayra touched his lips. "No, it's fine. We'll just do what we normally do. We've said what we have to. No point in dragging it on. I'll see you in a bit," she said, striding to the tent entrance. "Can't possibly keep me away from dinner."

  Before he could say anything more, Cayra slipped out and walked towards the field, ignoring everyone she passed. As confident and in control as she may have sounded, she was still confused. I got the answers I was looking for. Now l don't know what to do with them.

  Should she be insulted? Should she mourn their lost relationship with them? Should she play the jealous wife and offer Jace an ultimatum? Every one of her doubts demanded she should drive a concrete wedge between her husband and a man who was never supposed to be there in the first place.

  Except for the gnawing feeling suggesting there was more.

  Did Jace's love for Roan mean he loved her any less?

  No.

  Did it mean the marriage was in danger?

  No.

  The truth was that in her whole life, nothing was more horrifying than being alone and finding the people of Deliverance dead. She'd had no means to help them; no scientific knowledge to change the outcome. Regardless of everything her parents had taught her, she had been helpless; useless almost to the point of worthlessness. That one day had all but killed the optimism she'd spent her life sharing with others. Her clan was never coming back. They could never recover the lost time. She'd already seen bad and felt worse.

  But this was a matter of the heart, and the heart had an astounding capacity for love. To break Jace's heart just because she considered it something she should do was cruel, not an act of love or compassion. She was better than that.

  Now she could connect the whole story together. The knowledge that Roan had been tortured drew on her mercy. Hurting him made as much sense as hurting Jace. Punishing them wouldn't make their lives better. It would just tear them apart, strain her marriage, and jeopardize everything she had with Jace—a relationship they'd cultivated since they were toddlers, sharing toys and playing games.

  But why, even though she could accept every bit of it, did she still feel as though something was wrong?

  *~*~*

  What she would give for a full night's sleep.

  Three days, and I still can't sleep worth a damn. Cayra scowled, kicking at the rocks while she walked the camp perimeter. As far as she knew, confronting Jace only helped their marriage. The same day she'd talked to him about Roan, they'd lain in bed as they always did, laughing over the things people had said. Jace had teased her about the bugs and dirt; she'd threatened to throw a pot full of overripe potatoes at him. The night had been no different than any other, almost as if they'd never discussed his feelings for Roan. In the morning, she'd remained in his embrace, content and secure.

  Now her mind wouldn't shut off. All she thought about was the missing piece of the puzzle she wasn't trying to put together. Why wasn't she satisfied? Why was she still second-guessing her decisions—his decisions? They made sense. They protected their marriage, creating mutually agreed upon boundaries.

  All she could think of was pushing the boundaries.

  Love could mean more.

  Love could give more.

  Crossing through the corner of the camp, Cayra headed for the dining area.

  She stopped. She wasn't alone. Roan sat on one of the tables with his back to her.

  We can't keep avoiding each other. Can't keep pretending like I don't know the truth. No one else is here. Maybe it's a good time to talk… assuming he doesn't run away.

  Cayra took a breath. "Roan," she called, winding her way around the tables.

  Roan didn't move, even when Cayra stepped o
n the bench to sit on the table beside him. In his hands, he held dark canvas from a tent and thin beige cord threaded through a metal needle. Long pieces of rope lay across his knees.

  "Mending, huh?" Cayra clasped both hands on her knee. "Sucks, I know. I always have to get someone else to do it. Usually Jace. I can't sew worth a damn." She glimpsed Roan, curious about how he'd react.

  He did nothing, his face expressionless behind his glasses.

  "You can't ignore me forever," she said quietly. "And I don't want you to. So fine, you don't like me. Or you're threatened by me. Or I'm not good enough. Whatever. That's your problem, not mine. But it doesn't mean we can't try having a conversation or even being in the same space, for God's sake, especially when we care for the same man."

  That did it. Roan's hands moved. While he remained silent, he worked with the canvas and cord again, lowering his head.

  How he handles anxiety, maybe? Well, other than yelling. Or is this him actually listening? I'll take it, either way. Better progress than I expected.

  Cayra focused on the trees in the distance, hoping no one bothered them. She may not have another chance. "I don't know if he's told you, but we talked. Came to an understanding. I'd like you and me to do the same. We don't have to be strangers. We don't have to be at odds. We can talk about him like grown ups. No drama." Cayra watched him pull on the needle, closing the gaping holes in the canvas. "I know he still loves you. I'm curious to know if you feel the same."

  His silence wasn't an answer, but his hard yank on the cord was.

  "So you do," she murmured. "He says you've already talked about it. Decided to leave things be. Says he won't screw with our marriage just because you've come back. That can't be easy. I don't know what you went through, but I can imagine. Must've been excruciating. I wouldn't have been able to stand it, losing him. I'd have gone mad. Don't know how you managed to get through it."

  Roan's jaws flexed.

  "He's missed you, Roan, and I think he still needs you. I'm just sorry I'm in the way." Scraping the sole of her boot along the edge of the bench, Cayra stared at the dirt falling to the ground. "What would you do if I weren't here? If I weren't Jace's wife, if he weren't married to anyone, what would happen?"