Hatam-Ile, 8th of Ninthmoon 3045
”Again!” Ren’i shouted.
Hawk drew another arrow from the quiver, pulled the bowstring with practised ease, and sent the arrow flying. It howled as it flew quivering through the air, and after a moment that felt like an eternity found its mark. The moments between loosing the arrow and the hit always felt the same; longer than days, yet over in less than a heartbeat.
He gnashed his teeth in dissatisfaction and shook his throbbing arm. He’d known as soon as he released the arrow that the trajectory was off. The arrow had missed the centre of the target that he’d aimed at and hit one of the outer rings instead. It was one of his best hits that night, which irritated him further.
”Again!”
Slave driver. Iron Fist was a fitting moniker, Hawk thought dully. Ren’i gave no quarter and never let a single pupil off too easily. Hawk forced his face to reveal nothing, closed his eyes for a second, and pushed all else off his mind: the aches, the exhaustion, the feelings, the wind, and the rain.
Well, almost everything. Ren’i’s familiar presence was the only thing Hawk could not remove from his consciousness. He was always there, hovering behind everything just as stubbornly as the wound in his leg had.
Hawk shook himself mentally. He could do this. He’d done this hundreds, thousands of times before. There was only him and the arrow, the bow and the target. Nothing else mattered. He exhaled, simultaneously flexing the muscles of his arm, holding the arrow still. Inhaled, his fingers loosing the arrow.
The rest of the world came back in a rush as the arrow hit the outer rim. Hawk hissed between gritted teeth out of sheer frustration. He’d not shot an unmoving target so poorly since his teen years.
Ren’i’s footsteps came closer. He came to a halt next to Hawk and pulled an arrow from his own quiver.
”You’re still tensing your arms too much. It makes them shake and interferes with your aim,” Ren’i said. ”Watch me closely now.”
He pulled the bowstring slowly, carefully, each movement intentionally collected. It made the muscles in his arms tense visibly, and Hawk could just barely force himself to look at him. Ren’i sent the arrow flying. It found its mark exactly in the middle of the target.
”You see?” he asked, and Hawk could only nod, a lump the size of his own fist in his throat. ”There’s a different feel to the longbow, but I know you’ve got more arm strength than I do. You can do it if you just focus.”
Bullshit, Hawk thought darkly. There was just one distraction hindering him, and it was Ren’i himself.
”Let’s take a break to have some water,” Ren’i said, blissfully unaware of Hawk’s thoughts. ”Five minutes, no more.”
Hawk stomped towards the targets and yanked out the arrows they’d shot. He felt Onniar and Ared’s eyes following himself from the stands. All else he might have tolerated, but did they have to have spectators on top of everything else? There was no getting away from Onniar (the idea had been his, after all) but the smug look on Ared’s face said he knew everything about everything as usual. Normally, it was a relief – Hawk never needed to explain anything, because Ared understood him from a single syllable – but not when he wanted to keep something to himself. With Ared, it was impossible.
Sometimes, when his mood was foul enough, Hawk wondered what it would be like to have an ordinary person without special duties or talents instead of a chief for a cousin. It was hard to even imagine, for Ared’s fire-reading skills had manifested at an early age. The three of them had often sneaked out to the woods with a pack of matches in the middle of the night, made a fire somewhere secluded, and let Ared narrate what he saw in the flames as though it was just a fun, innocent little game. Hawk and Nightsong had been fully invested in the game and lived vicariously through his visions without understanding them for what they were.
It had been difficult to keep secrets from Ared, which their parents had eventually noticed, and he’d been sent off to study in the elders’ care before he’d turned twenty. Within the span of just two years Ared had given up his name and ceased to be Eaglewing. He was made apprentice of the previous chief, and once he came home after completing his trial period Hawk and Nightsong had had to learn to know him once more.
Ared waved at Hawk. Hawk merely nodded in response.
The next round didn’t go any better than the previous ones. The Kishan longbow was almost as tall as Hawk himself and heavier than an akheri bow. Its reach was well beyond the shortbow he was accustomed to, and for his first task Ren’i’s had gone and moved their targets all the way to the other end of the square. Hawk felt his arms tiring and knew he wouldn’t be able to lift anything the next day.
”Enough,” Ren’i said finally when Hawk’s last arrow had only just hit the target, the arrowhead sinking right into the outermost ring. ”This ought to do for now.”
The multicoloured lanterns hanging beneath the canopies had been lit as dusk fell. Insects buzzed around them, lured by the warmth and the fluttering of the flames. The rain went on drumming faintly against the rooftops and canvases as Onniar returned the targets to their proper places.
In his peripheral vision Hawk could see Ren’i approaching, and he swore inwardly. Ren’i was stunningly handsome in his black tunic, which left his left arm and the tattoos exposed in Kishan fashion. The outfit was plain and form-fitting, and only the lilacs embroidered in silver around his collar hinted at his identity. His hair had turned wavy from the humidity; Hawk wanted to bury his fingers in it. He looked away hastily.
”I can tell you’re having trouble concentrating. You’ve been absent-minded all evening,” Ren’i said, lowering his voice so that the others didn’t hear.
”I haven’t. It’s just difficult, getting used to this bow,” Hawk blurted out. The words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. He’d always been a bad liar, and he wasn’t at all surprised that Ren’i did not believe him.
Ren’i huffed a laugh. ”Doubt it. You’re an excellent shot – likely the best archer I’ve ever seen.” Heat rushed to Hawk’s visage at the compliment. ”Take the bow and pull the string taut once more, but don’t unleash the arrow.”
Hawk rolled his eyes to spare himself the trouble of answering, but did as he was told. He felt his hair standing on end when Ren’i stepped behind him. He was so close that Hawk felt his body pressing up against his own, felt his breath against his skin.
”You’re too tense, like I said before,” Ren’i said. He laid his hand on Hawk’s right shoulder, the other resting on his left hand that was gripping the bowstring. ”Let your arms relax again,” he said, and Hawk obeyed. ”Good. Now, draw the bow again – slowly.”
Ren’i’s body conformed to his every movement. Hawk could feel himself reflexively matching his breathing with Ren’i’s. How easy it would have been to turn around and pull Ren’i into his embrace. Ancestors knew he wanted to, wanted it so badly that there was no room for anything else in his mind. He let Ren’i’s hand guide his own, holding on tightly when Hawk found the right stance.
”Like so,” Ren’i’s voice said by his ear, tickling at his skin. ”You’ve no need to tense your arms any more than this. Confident, controlled movements, that’s all. Understand?”
No. There’s nothing I understand anymore, Hawk thought.
”Yes,” he heard himself reply in a hoarse voice. He shook Ren’i’s hands off himself and stepped away from him quickly, before he lost his head entirely. His body was burning throughout. ”Well, was that all?”
”Sure. I guess.” Ren’i made no effort to leave. He stared at his shoes and swallowed audibly. ”Look… If there’s something on your mind, you can always talk to me.”
Hawk nodded, but didn’t answer. The lump in his throat just kept growing in size. He pushed past Ren’i, but didn’t make it far before he caught up with Hawk and pulled at his sleeve.
”Now I know you’re avoiding me.” Ren’i uttered it like an accusation. ”Could you at least tell me why?”
Hawk yanked himself free with more force than he’d intended. ”There’s nothing to tell. Goodbye.”
He turned to leave, dropping the bow and the quiver in the same pile with the rest of their equipment. He was only halfway across the square when Ren’i shouted after him.
”’Goodbye’? Goodbye? Is that all?” His voice broke. ”Why are you fighting it? We both know what’s happening!”
”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was a tone of disbelief to Ren’i’s voice when he laughed. ”Bullshit! I know we have confessed. You can feel it just as surely as I can.”
Hawk froze where he stood, heart hammering so hard that he could feel the tremours throughout his body. He could barely force himself to turn and look at Ren’i, who was staring at him as though he’d never seen him before. Two red angry spots had appeared on Ren’i’s cheeks.
Ared and Onniar were following the exchange with wide eyes.
”You don’t have to lie to me,” Ren’i went on. ”I already know.”
”You know? You, who are not even akheri? You, who don’t even have a name? How could you know anything about confession? Do you understand what it’s doing to us?” The words escaped Hawk’s mouth angrier and sharper than he’d intended, but there was no stopping them or taking them back anymore.
”I know enough to make my own decisions!” Ren’i responsed, equally angry.
”Hey, hey,” Ared said soothingly and stepped between them, disregarding the fact that he was a full head shorter than either of them. He glanced from Ren’i to Hawk and back. ”You’re both adults. Act like it and speak like adults.”
Hawk glared at him. ”I should have known that you’ve filled his head with this romantised nonsense.”
Ared answered his glowering coolly. ”The confession is a matter that concerns you both. Akheri or not, he has every right to know what’s going on.”
”You could have at least told him the truth!”
”Told me what?” Ren’i asked before Ared had the chance to open his mouth.
”That the confession is a curse. We won’t have a choice. We don’t decide for ourselves, not me, not you, whether you’re a prince or whatever.” Hawk’s jaw clenched. He balled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, which did nothing whatsoever. ”This crap will be forced down our throats whether we want it or not in the name of destiny or some other bullshit, as if we’re nothing but animals without free will.”
”Hawk,” Ared said sharply. ”Think about what you’re saying!”
”It’s humiliating!” Hawk yelled, so loudly that both Ared and Onniar started, so loudly that it hurt. The look on Ren’i’s face hurt even more. ”They’ll treat us like we can’t think for ourselves! Does it feel right to you that we’ll be forced to submit to something neither of us wants?”
He regretted the words the second they’d left his mouth.
Ren’i felt as if Hawk had stabbed him right in the heart.
”Speak only for yourself,” Ren’i said in a rough voice, the words catching in his throat.
”Ren’i,” Ared said. ”He didn’t mean—”
Ren’i did not look at either of them. He threw his longbow on the ground, turned at his feels and marched away across the rainy square.
Hawk didn’t need the bond forged by the confession to know he’d gone too far. He stared after Ren’i as the distance between them grew, even after the dusk had swallowed him entirely. He had a vague feeling that he should move, should show some reaction at least, should run after Ren’i and stop him and apologise while he still could, but his body was made of stone and would not obey.
For a long time no one said anything. Finally, Onniar broke the silence by coughing and mumbling, ”well, I’m putting our things away, if we’re done here for now. I guess the two of you can leave.”
The drizzle left Hawk shivering as he headed back towards the cottage. He heard the sound of Ared’s footfalls pursuing him all the way from the square, past the empty streets and across the bridge.
”Hawk, wait up.”
Hawk sped up, wishing his cousin would get the hint and bugger off.
”Hawk. Hawk!”
Hawk didn’t stop until Ared caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder.
”Wait a little,” Ared repeated. He was breathing hard, and Hawk realised he’d had to run to catch up. ”I always forget how fast you are.”
”You came in vain if you want me to apologise. It’s too late now.”
”That’s not it,” Ared breathed. He was massaging his side. ”You just… You had that look on your face again, just like when… I don’t want you to disappear again.”
Hawk said nothing. He felt the rain running down his face and seeping through his clothes, plastering them to his icy skin. He waited for Ared to catch his breath, and they set off side by side in complete silence.
”Did you really mean what you said?” Ared asked, gaze firmly somewhere in the distance. He sighed when Hawk didn’t respond. ”I know, I know. None of my business. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
”It’s better that he knows the truth.”
”The truth about what?” Ared sounded weary. ”Your parents confessed. Silverbrook and Nightsong confessed. You really think they were forced into it? That they don’t truly love each other? Nightsong would kick your ass you if she heard.”
”That’s different.”
”Because Ren’i’s a taivashi? Name of the nine moons, Hawk, he likes you. He liked you before he knew anything about the confession. Everyone else can see it, everyone except you.
They had reached the cottage. Rain was falling down the roof in endless rivulets, forming puddles by the wall. The rumbling of thunder made the earth tremble faintly, a thunderbolt illuminating the world momentarily. Ared no longer looked like a chief. His black braids were drenched from the rain, loose strands glued to his face. All of a sudden he looked decades younger, just as tired and lost as when the four of them had found themselves all alone in a big, empty house.
”The decision is yours. I just want you to be happy,” he said. ”You too have the right to it, you know.”
He patted Hawk on the back, bid him goodnight, and left.
Hawk shut the door after himself and sank on the floor, boneless as a ragdoll. Again and again he saw the look on Ren’i’s face in his head, and thumped his fist against the floor. There was no relief in the pain. It did nothing to wash away the hollow feeling in his chest that deepened with each heartbeat.
’Speak only for yourself.’
Ren’i’s words kept him awake late into the dawn hours.