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Topiara - Chapter 54
Lyara stood patiently and suffered La'un to peer closely at the crinkle of darkened skin at her throat, and then bend to draw gentle and knowing fingers down her outer thigh where the dart had struck her. "No more pain?" the ancient healer asked with a quick cast of green toward her face.
"My joints still ache a little," she admitted, "but nothing that would keep me down all the time anymore."
A skeletal finger shook beneath her nose. "You have been very ill, sha'adrahni – you almost died. That you can stand unaided after so little time is remarkable – but pushing yourself at this point does nobody any favors. You should spend the next few days in very light activity, with plenty of rest and food to rebuild you."
"Walking isn't very heavy exertion," she complained, carefully avoiding looking at Jilan. Although he hadn't said anything when she'd voiced her intentions to continue on the journey to the mountain of fire and ice the day before – despite her being convinced that the entire quest was a lost cause – she knew he wasn't convinced of her wisdom in pushing on so soon. She just wanted to get it over and done with.
"I was thinking more in terms of sitting and spinning thread and listening to the tales others tell for a few days," La'un shook his head. "You aren't ready to travel yet."
Lyara waited, but Jilan had learned during the last few days of her recovery not to press her very hard to do that which she didn't want. She could hear Topiara in the back of her mind, agreeing with the healer and cautioning patience – more words she ignored completely. She took a few tentative steps away from the sleeping net that had been her home for over a week and frowned when just that little exertion had her legs beginning to tremble beneath her. "How long before I can travel again?" she demanded.
"That depends entirely upon you," La'un told her cagily. "If you rest properly, eat properly, and work your muscles enough to help them remember their strength, a week, perhaps a little less. If you press too hard and force yourself, you could relapse and find yourself spending another week flat on your back in the net."
Lyara snorted a frustrated sigh. They must be conspiring, La'un and Jilan, she thought. "Very well," she conceded, knowing that even Yiren wouldn't be happy if she went against the healer's advice and ended up falling ill again. And truthfully, she had to admit that her legs hurt from lack of use. It would be a while before she'd be able to walk distances the way she once had.
La'un turned to Jilan and handed him a pouch. "See that she drinks a pinch of this in water or juice twice daily," he advised, patting the young man's hand. "It will help her regain her strength." He gazed carefully into the yellow-hair's careworn face. These past few weeks of nursing his i'ilim had been hard on the young stranger. "Perhaps you should have a pinch in the morning for yourself," the healer added. "You look as if you could use a tonic too."
"Thank you, La'un," Jilan bowed very formally and deeply to the healer, "for all you've done for us."
La'un gave Jilan and companionable slap on the shoulder before turning to leave the little room in the corner of the shelter. Lyara saw the gesture as she drooped back into a seated position on the net when her legs would no longer hold her up. "I'm getting so tired of being stuck here…"
Jilan was silent a moment. Ever since she'd begun to regain her strength, she'd been steadily pushing him away. All of his offers of assistance had been rebuffed. She pushed herself to do things for herself without assistance and acted as if having to ask him for anything was a sign of her own failure. Still, he had to offer – it was either that or walk away. "I can help you down the ladder and out into the sunlight outside, if you'd like," he forced a bright and optimistic tone. When she turned to look at him, his gaze dropped to his feet. "Only if you want to," he added glumly.
"I don't think I can make it down the ladder yet," she told him honestly. "But thank you."
Jilan flinched. It was the expressions of gratitude that hurt the worst, knowing that the dearth of them when she'd been under the influence of the toxic medications had been the feather to snap away the branch of his patience before. Lyara had always been scrupulous in expressing gratitude every time she received assistance, never more than when she allowed him to help her now – it was the closest she had come to behaving normally. And yet, every time she did, it was like a slap in the face.
"Is there anything else you need?" he asked quietly. "I was thinking of seeing if I could bring down some birds for the suppers and try to at least earn my keep…"
"Go on," she urged him tiredly. "You've been as cooped up in here as I have. A day of hunting will do you good."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "I have my bag – and Yiren saw to it that it was filled with chu'ichi fluff yesterday. I'll be fine."
Jilan retrieved his bow and quiver from the peg on one of the support poles and gave her a game smile that didn't hide his heartbreak, and then walked from their room.
Lyara sighed again and pulled the bag filled with fluff and her spindle toward her. He was trying so hard – she knew he was – to win back her trust. It was his constant and devoted care that had gotten her through the days and nights of delirium, and then through the days of an almost overwhelming lethargy afterwards. Then, as she'd gotten better and more able to take responsibility for her care, he'd slowly pulled back. Not from her net, though – the two of them still sheltered in the same net. She wasn't sure she could stand feeling him pull away from her in that one place and time where she still felt vulnerable and raw – in the middle of the night when her dreams awakened her to the surety that he'd left her.
And yet, things were still not right between them. No matter how hard she tried to forget, the sound of his ringing indictment and rejection still echoed in her mind. It was the one moment of clarity that she had about that entire journey from Chi'uchiru'an to Tala'anru'an – the only time she was fully cognizant of what was going on around her. Yiren had quietly told her, during a visit a few days ago, that she had pushed Jilan to the breaking point with her ugly moods and constant complaints – but that Jilan's sudden and complete rejection had surprised even her.
Now here she was, pushing him away again – this time with indifference and muted disrespect. She knew she had nothing to fear from Yiren, so the warnings that Topiara continued to dump into the back of her mind seemed nothing but alarmism that deserved nothing more than neglect. And yet…
Whether she believed it a waste of time or not, she'd promised Jilan that she'd accompany him to the mountain of fire and ice. It was a waste of time because he was no longer her mate – by his own words, he was no longer her mate. Yes, he'd told her time after time that he hadn't really meant it – that she was the only one he'd ever wanted – but the words had been said. They couldn't be unsaid. And a trip into the mountains with someone not her mate was a recipe for disaster.
Lyara's fingers teased a tuffet of fluff from her netted back and prepared to start spinning it into thin thread as she sighed heavily. She missed Jilan – missed his loving touch and his caresses. She missed the way they had been together – the way they had looked out for each other, sometimes in spite of one another.
"I just saw Jilan." Yiren walked quietly into the room and leaned against a post.
"He's going hunting," Lyara said. "He wants to provide for the h'sun."
"He looks as if he's going to an execution," Yiren commented wryly. "I haven't seen him smile since Chi'uchiru'an."
"I can't help that," Lyara sighed, reaching for another tuffet of fluff.
Yiren moved faster than Lyara expected, pulling the bag and all the loose fluff out of her reach. "Yes, you can." Dark eyes dove deeply into a fiery green gaze. "You're doing it all over again – pushing him away and making him miserable – do you really expect a different conclusion this time around?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lyara replied archly.
"Do you really not love him anymore, then?" Yiren gaped.
"Of course, I do." Lyara answered, looking down at her hands and the dangling spindle.
"Then why don't you act like it?"
Black eyes flew back up and glared. "Because he said we were finished."
Yiren brushed her hand and dismissed the excuse. "And, I take it, you've never said anything in the heat of anger that you've regretted and wished you could take back."
"That was different," Lyara complained. "I didn't love the person…"
"Were you ever forgiven?"
Lyara thought for a moment. "Eventually…"
"They're lucky you didn't walk away…"
"I couldn't. I was a slave at the time."
Yiren bent toward her. "Jilan is no slave. He stays because he loves you – and you kill that love just a little bit every time you treat him like bird droppings. The thing is, I don't think Jilan can live without your love anymore – I don't think he ever could. So when you kill that love that he still holds out to you, you kill him too. He will never leave you – he will just wither away until there's nothing left of him."
"He treated me…"
Yiren straightened and shook her head. "And so you return the favor. You match wrong for wrong, and there will never be room for right again." She walked away to the door. "Jilan told me of your argument. And for as angry as I was at him for behaving so disrespectfully to his i'ilim, I am equally disappointed in you now. What kind of i'ilim treats the one she loves so badly day after day and expects him to keep coming back for more?" The red head shook and she stepped only far enough into the room that she could throw the netted bag back into the sleeping net with strength caused by frustration. "I don't think I ever knew you – and you make me ashamed of having defended you to Jilan."
Lyara was left with her mouth hanging open as Yiren walked quickly back to the ladder and climbed down to the next level.
"Dinia!" Jilan's taunting challenge echoed in her mind again – only this time, Yiren's accusation rang just as loudly. Jilan had recanted his rejection the moment he'd discovered that her mood had had a basis in reality and toxic medication - he'd admitted his mistake and begged forgiveness over and over again. And here she was, rejecting him just as cruelly and harshly as he'd rejected her. Was that really the way she should treat the one she loved?
'This is the danger,' Topiara whispered deep in her mind. 'You drive him away – first with jealousy, and now with indifference. You are the one destroying everything you cherish – YOU.'
"Shut up," Lyara muttered and twisted in the net so that she could draw her legs up and lie back. She had to think – and she needed to be able to concentrate without any more interference from…
She pulled the pouch with Topiara from her neck and slipped it into the bag. The silence in the back of her mind was almost painful – but it would give her the space to figure things out for herself for a change.
Jilan dipped his tethered arrows in the bowl of clear water to cleanse away the blood of the birds he'd brought down and gazed around him. The daylight was fading – the time for the meal and then gathering around the main firebowl for another evening of Telling was rapidly approaching. The hunters around him were reminding each other that the Rememberer from Tol had arrived that day – and his arrival meant all sorts of new tales, news from three h'suni'il away.
He sighed and looked upwards toward the shelter – and toward the corner where he knew the room he shared with Lyara was located. He should probably make sure that she didn't need anything. She'd probably brush him off again, as she had for the past few evenings – and having that as the best he could expect from her was like a sharp knife in the heart. Maybe Lyara had had the right of it back when she was so ill – throwing himself off the wall toward the floor of the world would be less painful than living knowing his love would never be returned again.
Habit drove him up the ladder, his bow and quiver in his hands, ready to hang on the peg again. That he'd brought down four birds that day felt like no feat. Nothing mattered anymore.
He glanced at the sleeping net. Lyara was laid out, her eyes closed. There would be no discussion – a mixed blessing because there would be no recrimination either. He quietly hung the bow and quiver on the peg and bent to check the water carrier that was on the floor near her head to make sure it still held enough…
"Were you successful with your hunt?"
Jilan blinked and straightened to find her looking at him steadily. He shrugged. "Successful enough, I suppose." He gestured vaguely toward the access ladder. "I'll go get you some supper, if you're hungry…" He started to walk away.
"Jilan? Wait." Lyara struggled to sit up and then tip her feet out toward the floor so she was sitting on the edge of the net. "We need to talk."
Silently he walked back until he was standing in front of her. Lyara caught her breath back when she realized he was standing there like a slave preparing to be beaten. "Oh, Jilan!" she breathed at him. "What have we done to each other?"
His shoulders hunched, but he didn't look at her. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he shrugged again. "I'll go get you some supper," he repeated and turned away.
"Wait!" she called again. "Look at me." Her words halted his steps again, but he didn't turn. "Please," she pleaded to his back, "please look at me." Slowly Jilan turned until she could see his face, and slowly his blue eyes came up to meet hers. Lyara rose carefully to her feet and walked over to him until she stood nearly toe to toe with him. "I'm sorry," she said in a voice that cracked with emotion. "I'm so sorry."
Jilan stared at her, dumbfounded. "What are you saying?" he asked, too battered down to believe that she'd regained her senses.
"I love you," she told him in a fervent tone, "and I've treated you horribly. I'm so sorry, Jilan…" She reached up a trembling hand to his cheek. "Can you forgive me?"
"Lya…" His arms were out and around her and pulling her close to him – closer than he'd been able to for far too long. "Lya…" he repeated into her hair.
Her arms closed around his waist and she clung to him tightly. This was home – this was everything good in her life that had been sorely missing for weeks now. Nothing else mattered – nothing else was as important as knowing Jilan's arms were there for her and that he loved her with as much intensity as she loved him. "I'm so sorry," she whimpered and buried her face in his chest. "Gods, I'm so sorry."
"I love you," Jilan whispered into her ear, feeling as if the weight of the world had suddenly lifted from his shoulders. His night had just turned back into day again – the one person in the world he treasured most was back and loving him and wanting him close to her. "I love you so much…"
"Don't leave me!"
"I'm not going anywhere!" His arms tightened about her even more. "I can't imagine my world without you in it."
Jilan traced his lips down the line of her jaw and then captured her lips beneath his – and the explosion of passion left them both breathless. He bent and swept his arms behind her knees and drew her up into his arms completely, pressing his kisses over her eyes and her cheeks. Lyara's arms wound around his neck and hung on tightly, finally drawing his kiss back to her lips. "Love me," she whispered hoarsely as his kisses traced a line of liquid fire down her neck.
Jilan didn't need further urging. He carried her the few steps back to the sleeping net and deposited her gently within, and then clambered into the comfortable and cocooning webbing with her. A netted bag – complete with a heavy lump cushioned in a leather pouch – hit the floor so as to remove all obstacles to a reunion two weeks in coming.
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