Wind Follower. Carole McDonnell

Mad Malana was creeping up behind Noam. She held something behind her back. She touched Noam’s arm and he swung round wildly, his dagger immediately drawn. She jumped back, spilling the berry mukal glass on the carpet. “Noyu,” she screamed, “it’s me, your little Malana. Do you not recognize me?”

      He slipped his dagger back into the sleeve of his tunic and shouted at her, red-faced. “Malana! Never do that again!” He shook her hard. “I could have killed you. You don’t want to be killed, do you?” Although his voice was raised loudly, his love for her was evident. He held her tightly and wiped terrified tears from her eyes.

      She opened his arms wide and closed them around her, snuggled inside them, “No, Noyu, you would not kill me. Come and see, come and see what beautiful things I’ve made for Loic. But really, really, you should not bring a dagger to Cuyo’s wedding.” In her madness and innocence, she had said what Jaguar and the other warriors had not said, that it was poor taste for a man to carry a concealed weapon to a feast.

      Noam walked away and continued teasing Malana. Then he turned around and his gaze caught mine. He smiled, a smile full of sweetness.

      Is this how he seduced the Third Wife? I wondered. But why is he harassing Loic? Or is he badgering Loic in order to make Taer angry? And how his eyes roamed my body!

      The moment I thought this, Loic turned his eyes from Noam to me. I knew he had heard my thoughts and had been thinking the same thing.