Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

M arieke drew in a breath, bracing herself. She was more nervous about seeing Zev's family again than she cared to admit. Considerably more than she had been last time, even though they'd been strangers then and she'd been in their power. It wasn't that she was afraid they would harm her this time. It was that she cared more now. So much more. Zev was…well, important to her. And she wanted his family to like her.

Which made it hard to prepare herself for the cold reality that they were more likely to hate her.

Marieke did her best to appear composed as she climbed the steps, Zev supporting her with an arm. The yellowing light of early evening slanted across the wooden boards, the yard behind them blanketed with the hush of another day's end.

"Mother?" Zev called, as he pushed the door open. "Father, Azai?" They walked through the hall, Zev poking his head into the kitchen before turning back to Marieke.

"They must all be outside. Here." He held out his hand. "Let me put your pack in the room you slept in last time."

Marieke shook her head, clutching the strap of her bag more tightly. "Not until your parents are at least aware I'm here. Ideally after they've actually agreed to me staying."

Zev gave her a look. "And if they disapprove, you'll hike out onto the open road alone as night sets in?"

Marieke shrugged. "Obviously it's not what I'm hoping for, but I'm sure I'd manage."

"Marieke." Zev frowned at her. "I would never allow that, not even when you're at full strength, let alone now, when you can barely put one foot in front of the other."

Before Marieke could respond, something seemed to catch Zev's eye. He squinted for a moment toward the kitchen window, then strode back out to the porch, Marieke trailing behind. Leaning against the railing for support, she watched as Zev ran lightly down the steps and made his way across the yard. In the fading light, Marieke's eyes caught the figure of Narelle, Zev's mother, walking slowly from the direction of the barn, one large pail gripped in each hand.

"Mother, let me help you with that." Zev's voice carried clearly in the still air. The slightest hint of guilt in his tone made Marieke wonder if the evening milking of the cows was usually his task. One of many, no doubt, that he'd abandoned in order to chase after her again.

"Zev!" The older woman looked up, her face softening in a smile as she caught sight of her eldest son. She didn't seem to have noticed Marieke yet. "You're back."

"Just arrived," Zev said, relieving her of one of the pails. He reached for the other, but Narelle swatted his hand away with a scolding noise.

"I'm not in my dotage, Zevadiah. I can carry a pail of milk." She softened the words with another smile. "I'm glad to see you back in one piece."

Marieke ran her fingers over the painted wood of the porch railing, her eyes riveted on the interaction before her. Zev had something special with his family, that much was clear. It was hard to put words to what she felt when she was with them, but it felt deeper even than the usual bond of family. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising that their disapproval was enough to make him unwilling to dive into anything with her. And yet, what grown man—especially one as strong and confident as Zev—let his parents tell him where to give his affection?

Zev hadn't yet responded to his mother's words when the older woman's eyes flicked up to the house and locked on Marieke. Her step faltered ever so slightly before she recovered her stride, and her expression instantly became neutral.

Marieke sighed, peeling away from the support of the railing with reluctance. All she wanted was to sleep, but she knew she had to make an effort if she wanted even the slimmest chance of Zev's family thinking well of her.

She moved to the top of the steps, but before she could greet Narelle, two more figures came into view, emerging from the field behind the farm's small—and out-of-place—training yard. Zev's father Gideon and brother Azai.

Narelle paused, waiting until her husband and younger son joined them before continuing toward the house. The result was that Marieke found herself confronted with the entire family approaching, three pairs of eyes fixed warily on her where she stood elevated on the porch.

"You brought a guest, Zev," Gideon said mildly.

"Again." Azai's tone wasn't as impassive.

Zev stepped away from his family, walking up the steps to Marieke's side in an unhurried way.

"I did. You all remember Marieke, I'm sure."

"Of course." Narelle smiled. "How are you, Marieke?"

Marieke opened her mouth to reply, but Zev beat her to it.

"She's dead on her feet," he said. "It's a long story, but basically she got us out of a very tight spot with some spectacular songcraft. She desperately needs to sleep, but I'm sure she would welcome some food first."

"I would," said Marieke frankly. Her eyes found Narelle, as the least intimidating of the trio. "But I don't want to impose—"

"I think we're past worrying about that, child," said the older woman, not unkindly. She pushed her milk pail into her younger son's hands and mounted the steps briskly. "Come on, let's get you off your feet. Supper is a little way off, but I have some bread and butter you can eat right away."

Marieke followed her, her stomach rumbling at the mention of food. Realizing that Zev wasn't coming, she glanced back. He was leaning with his hip against the railing, his arms folded and his face calm as he studied his father and brother. They were clearly waiting for her to leave to say whatever they wanted to say, and she wasn't at all averse to missing the confrontation. She picked up the pace, feeling a sense of relief when the door swung shut behind her.

"Poor thing, you do look dead on your feet," Zev's mother said, casting a critical eye over Marieke as she ushered her into the kitchen. "What's happened to your clothes? You and Zev both look like you were caught in a landslide."

"We scaled Sundering Canyon," Marieke said, too weary for subtlety. "Climbed right up the side of it."

"All the way from the bottom?" Narelle was clearly alarmed, and Marieke didn't blame her.

"Yes. It was dangerous," she acknowledged, easing herself gratefully into a chair as her hostess fished out a plate and some bread. "But not as dangerous as it sounds. I was able to use magic to sort of smooth the way." Marieke shook her head. "Well, I had a hand in it. I can't fully claim credit. I've never felt magic behave quite the way it did back there. But they do say that the magic of the canyon is unpredictable. "

She looked up to see Narelle watching her shrewdly, and grimaced. "Sorry. You don't want to hear me talking on about magic, do you?"

"Actually, I do," Narelle informed her, spreading butter liberally on a slice of bread. "I'm very interested to know what you and Zev were up to since he left."

Marieke stretched her neck out, trying to relieve the stiffness she still felt from climbing for so long with her neck craning upward.

"I think I should let him tell it his own way. Things got pretty…" She thought of the impossible, miniature elves. "Strange."

"Well, I'm glad you both survived to return to us unscathed," Narelle said.

"Are you?" Marieke had meant the question to be humorous, but it didn't come out quite right. "Having Zev not only reconnect with me, but bring me back here is more or less your worst fear, isn't it?"

She hadn't thought she was capable of taking in more revelations, but as she spoke the words, she felt something strange happen. Magic shifted in the ground beneath her, its signature subtle and unique. It didn't pool to her in a flood…it was more like a gentle trickle, perfectly attuned to her magical sense. It wasn't so much that it was doing anything in response to her words, more that it was alerting her to the fact that it was available to do something should she wish to direct it.

Was it…was it reacting to her question? Without her even trying to sing? Was that what it felt like to have an aptitude for the question-centered branch of storytelling magic?

"Whoa," she said, speaking to no one in particular. "I actually felt it that time." She raised her eyes to Narelle. "What did I just ask you? It must have been an astute question."

Narelle was watching her with one raised eyebrow. "If you say so yourself. "

Marieke let out a weak laugh. "Sorry. I suppose that sounded conceited. I'm afraid I'm too tired to be diplomatic. I've had a very confusing couple of days. And it seems the magic of the land has still more surprises for me."

"What does that mean?" Narelle asked, but Marieke's thoughts were already taking off in a different direction.

"I've just remembered my question," she said ruefully. "The one that activated the magic. I asked if Zev bringing me here is your worst fear. I suppose I have my answer." She couldn't quite restrain a wince as she met the older woman's eyes. "Am I really so awful?"

"Of course you're not," said Narelle, sliding the plate of bread to Marieke and seating herself opposite. She looked uncomfortable, but she showed Marieke the respect of meeting her eyes. "We don't dislike you, Marieke."

Marieke was mainly focused on consuming the food as quickly as dignity would allow, but she spared Zev's mother a pained look.

"I know I'm young, but I'm not a fool. I also have plenty of experience being alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who have the upper hand on me. I know when I'm vulnerable, and I know when I'm unwelcome."

Narelle sighed. "I'm sorry if we've made you feel either vulnerable or unwelcome. We're all a little on edge because of recent events."

"What events?" Marieke asked. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yes," said Narelle. "But our region is under close scrutiny by the Council of Singers, and to be honest, we'd prefer them to leave us alone to get on with our lives."

Marieke frowned. "Why are you under scrutiny?"

"There was a survey," Narelle said shortly. "Never you mind about the details. The main thing is, we're tense for our own reasons. I promise you're safe here. "

"I know I'm physically safe," Marieke said wearily. "But that's not the same as being welcome." She met Narelle's eyes with a hint of pleading. "Is my songcraft really so offensive as to make me ineligible?"

"Ineligible?" Narelle's voice was sharp. "What do you mean by that?"

Marieke said nothing, feeling her cheeks heat at her revealing comment. She wouldn't speak so freely if she wasn't too weary and overwhelmed to watch every word. But she didn't entirely regret it. She was tired of playing games.

"Please Marieke, be frank with me," Narelle said. "What is there between you and my son?"

"Nothing," Marieke said, her color still rising but her gaze steady. "Because he's fastidiously holding himself back. But if you want frankness, I'm crazy about him, and I think if he'd let himself, he would feel the same way."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through the other woman's eyes. After a long and silent moment, she leaned back, her expression softer than it had been before. The change was at odds with her words, however.

"I appreciate you being frank. I'll do you the same favor. To answer your earlier question, yes. I'm afraid that your songcraft is offensive enough to make you completely ineligible in the eyes of this family."

Marieke winced, feeling as though she'd been suddenly slapped. It was foolish, because she was the one who'd asked the question. And Narelle's manner hadn't been harsh. But Marieke found herself fighting tears.

"Mother!" Zev's voice made both women jump. His form was filling the doorway, and he'd clearly heard the last comment. "What are you doing?"

"Just having a heart to heart with Marieke," said Narelle calmly .

Zev scowled. "It's not your place to—"

"It's all right," Marieke cut him off. "I asked her a question, and I'm grateful for an honest answer." She gave Zev a smile she knew must be unconvincing. "Is it all right if I go to bed now? You'll probably be glad of the chance to talk with your family."

"Of course you can," said Narelle, giving an approving nod. "You're exhausted, no need to stay up on our account."

Marieke rose, picking up her rucksack from beside her chair and making her way to the doorway in which Zev still stood. "Let me past, Zev," she said, her words soft.

"I'll walk you up." Zev's voice and figure were stiff, but it gave Marieke no pleasure to see him offended on her behalf. Driving a wedge between him and the rest of his family was the last thing she wanted to do.

She didn't protest as he led her up the stairs, however. When they reached the door of the room in which she'd stayed last time, he paused.

"Marieke, I…" He trailed off as she held up a hand.

"Not tonight," she said. "I'm too tired for explanations or deep discussions. We can talk tomorrow."

Zev's tense expression softened slightly as he nodded. "Tomorrow." The word was a promise. "Sleep well."

Before she knew what he was about, he'd leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. Zev turned away without another word, and Marieke retreated into her room, too overwhelmed by it all to even watch him go.