Blood Memories [Last of Elves book 1] (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Thirty-Three: Panthera

Panthera

As soon as the door closed behind them, the priestess glared at him. “What are you thinking!” she hissed. “Why is she here?”

He lifted a shoulder, settling comfortably on the chair with his legs long in front of him. “She needs to be,” he said mildly. “One of your precious townspeople was going to kill her otherwise.”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly furious. “That can’t be! She’s so young!”

He stifled his amusement, but his eyes still glittered. “It’s true, priestess.” Still, he refused to be angered. He was going to protect his sister no matter what happened. If she had to leave, then he would be going with her. She’d spent too long alone already.

“Panthera, she can’t stay.”

He shrugged again. “Where she goes, I go,” he said bluntly. She went pale at his words.

“You can’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“But … but the goddess!”

“She means nothing to me, priestess. Remember?” He stood up, glaring at her. “And despite what your instincts tell you, and mine, I stay with the girl.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why is she so important to you? She’s a girl, Panthera. A stray off the street. I don’t see why you feel this need to protect her!”

He chose not to answer.

She scowled. “Panthera, you can’t!” she pleaded. “She can’t stay here – it’s not allowed!”

“By whom?” he challenged, his voice dangerously soft. “Who makes the rules, priestess? Who is in charge here?’

She stopped, blinking at him. “I do,” she whispered.

“Right. So why not work out what you want to do.” He sneered at her, and brushed past her.

He returned to his rooms, where, as he’d thought, his sister was at the terrace, leaning on the railing. The weak winter sun, promising the warmth of spring, shone bravely through the last of the snow clouds, and the gentle wind was teasing her long hair. The glint of silver threads could be easily seen as the dark strands swayed and lifted in the breeze.

“Kura?”

She turned her head, relief in her eyes. “She’s not going to do anything to us?” she asked anxiously.

He shook his head. “No,” he assured her. “She wouldn’t dare.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, thinking over how to answer her question. “There … is an agreement,” he finally said. “Between us.”

“Oh.” She nodded, her eyes growing shadowed, and her gaze dropped to the intricate carvings of the railing. “Are you going to be okay, then, Ali?”

“Of course.” He poked her side, tickling her, and her squeal echoed through the air.

“Ali! Stop it!”

He grinned, ignoring her until she was breathless, collapsing against him. He caught her, looking down at her. “I win?”

She poked his stomach. “Yes,” she said, weak with laughter. “You know you do.”

He ruffled her hair, letting her stand up again. “How long has it been?’

Her laughter vanished, and she heaved a sigh. “All of winter,” she replied quietly.

“And you, Kura?”

“I wasn’t at home. I was with Vakt, exploring.” Pain was filling her eyes when she looked at him. “Koti was at home, Ali. But she … she …” Her eyes filled with tears, and she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. He held her close, grief tearing at his own heart. Koti had been their parents’ beastkin, a wise old female who had looked after him like he was a kitten of her own.

“You came home after they’d gone?” he asked softly. She nodded, sniffling.

“Yes. Koti was still alive then. She tried to keep me away. She was trying to protect me. But I … I couldn’t leave her. She looked so small, Ali.”

He comforted her as best he could. “You were with her, Kura. That was what she would have wanted.”

“I tried to help her. But nothing … nothing worked.”

“It’s alright,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “You’re safe now. She isn’t in pain any more. Vakt is safe. You can cry now.”

She did, sobbing into his shirt as he held her, the cool breeze drifting around them, almost as if it were trying to comfort them both.