Ocean's Breath Plateau The wreck of the day

Her thoughts whipped about inside her mind like stones picked up by a tornado, each of them a threat to her own wellbeing. So violently they were flung through her mind, she could not dwell on one for very long before it was replaced by another, one that brought her even more grief.

She made a fine victim of herself; a young woman often overlooked, now so desperate to be noticed that she had followed customs of a different culture without questioning what it meant to her. She had given her body to a total stranger, flirted shamelessly with a married man, and had begged another to wed her. 

She had thought she could potentially share her heart, so long as she had everything that she wanted…Chakliux made it seem as though both of his wives were content, without want for anything- and while she had never directly agreed that she would accept it if Dutch chose to marry another, she realized now that she might not have even been capable of telling him the truth. 

How blissful that blindness had been. She longed for it again, but knew that she could not have it. She understood now how jealous her own heart was- and felt her spirit spoil. 

She did not want to prepare her den, not now. While the thought frightened her, she wondered if she might feel relieved if for some reason she did not conceive. She tried not to think about it, tried to tell herself that she was over-reacting, but the whirlpool of doubt dragged her further in. She instead chose to hide, in plain sight- and wandered through Moontide’s territory wondering what she should do with herself now, and if she could summon the courage to talk to her mate about how she felt.

It was not often that the panther found it difficult to draw up some empathy. He wasn't used to that empty feeling, nor to the stirrings of resentment that made it so painful to look at her. When he examined those feelings, he knew it was his own guilt — misplaced or not — that made him want to bristle against her.

He did not know exactly why she was upset. He only knew why he was.

Dutch watched his wife pace while he sorted his own thoughts, his own hurts. He found her blameless of any real wrongdoing, just as he knew he would. This feeling, then, this hurt — it was wanting, he thought. Wanting to be close to her.

He closed the distance, weariness slowly bleeding away to relief, even though he knew that nothing had yet been resolved.

"We should visit your grandmother's island," he said as he drew near enough for conversation. "One of these days. When our babies are old enough to leave with family for a few days."

He reached out, hoping to touch his nose to her silken cheek.

"Mere rani," he called her, whether or not the touch was allowed. "Will you tell me what is on your mind?"

She knew she should have felt relieved when he came to her- that it might mean he would choose her over his plans to keep Sulukinak from leaving. Inevitably, though, she knew he would come to her, whether it was because he wanted to, or because he felt obligated to do so. They were early in their marriage still- she may as well appreciate the sense of obligation while it lasted.

He spoke of warm, summery things- of her family’s old homeland, of their children, of sunny days to come. Sugar, she thought; maple sap against rough bark- sweet, but not enough to soften the coarseness of the tension between them. She offered only a small nod and a light smile. Yes, she would like to see the island, and take their children there, if children should come.

She tilted her chin up to accept his touch, and felt her cheeks warm under the brush of his breath. But her eyes welled with tears as he rushed to ask her what bothered her. She tried to swallow, but found a lump in her throat. Many things buzzed on the tip of her tongue, angry as hornets; she sought to temper her impulse, but found it difficult to be reasonable. 

”Why did he say you want Sulukinak for second wife?” She choked.

Her pain shamed him. Already, he was finding ways to disappoint her. He felt a deep, frantic need to fix this, to make her smile — and let out a little breath that was almost relief when the question she asked was one he knew the answer to.

"Because he cannot imagine another use for a woman," he replied, his expression darkening just briefly at the thought. "Even meeting you — "

He shook his head in an effort to lower his hackles. His anger was not helpful right now, and it was not directed toward Simbelmyne in any case. He looked back to her now, his gaze intent.

"I do not seek a second wife," he said to her, searching her sorrowful features for signs of understanding or acceptance. "Not in anyone — but especially not in Sulukinak. She is not much younger than you, but she is still so young in spirit. I know her as a frightened girl. Frightened and confused. My love could not take this other form for her."

Her gazed tracked from one eye to the next, studying for any sign that he might be lying to her. In seeing none, she felt ashamed for having assumed the worst, and while she found fewer and fewer reasons to doubt him, she found more and more reasons to doubt herself.

Her lips wobbled as he explained, and she flattened her ears like a child who accepting punishment they had earned. ”I thought-“ she blurted a light sob halting her confession. She felt a weight lift to know he had not tired of her, but she wondered now if he had chosen well for his wife- a wife who had so swiftly succumbed to her own jealousy. 

She moved forward, hoping he might allow her to lean into him, as she began to cry. ”I am sorry,” She had been so foolish! And in front of Chakliux too, she had made their marriage seem tumultuous. ”I shouldn’t have been so-“ She sobbed, and pulled in a shaky inhale, only to shudder in disgust at her own surge of emotions. ”I don’t know why I felt so bad, I just- I didn’t…And I shouldn’t have assumed the worst I just couldn’t-“ Her sentences ran together as a messy compilation of confessions, muddled together as tears ran hot and free down her cheeks.

His relief was so swift and strong that it stole his breath away. She understood, then — and that meant he was still the man that she wanted him to be. And, then and there, he was sure that he was the man he wanted to be as well. Still, her tears brought him pain, and he was quick to sweep her up against him. He did his best to clean the tears from her cheeks, at first only listening, as Chakliux had suggested.

But when her words cut off with some finality, he gathered his own together and spoke:

"If you must be sorry, then I forgive you," he said, not wanting to throw the apology back in her face even though he wanted badly to disregard it altogether. "But I am not angry. We cannot hope to know all there is to know about each other yet. But I will tell you: I wed you with my heart and my body, with no thought of another wife somewhere down the line. And if it had been a possibility? It would not be now. How can any man look for a second wife if his first is not blissfully happy? — both before and after."

He thought of Cen again, and what Chakliux had said about caribou wives.

"And I will confess," he breathed, simmering in anger once more, "I wanted to tear that man's eyes out when he looked at you as he did."