He grinned. “Speaking the choice words of Vendan is not the same thing as commanding the language.”
“But there are still words that are foreign to me. None of you ever said that blessing over a meal in all our way across the Cam Lanteux.”
“We’ve grown accustomed to living many different lives. Some of our ways we have to leave behind once we pass the borders of Venda.”
“Tell me Calantha’s prayer.”
He sat up and faced me. The glow of the candle lit one side of his face. “E cristav unter quiannad,” he said reverently. “A sacrifice ever remembered. Meunter ijotande. Never forgotten. Yaveen hal an ziadre. Another day we live.”
The words bored into me and all the ways I had misinterpreted the wearing of the bones.
“Food can be scarce in Venda,” he explained. “Especially in winter. The bones are a symbol of gratitude and a reminder that we live only by the sacrifice of even the smallest animal and by the combined sacrifices of many.”
Meunter ijotande. I was shamed at the beauty of every syllable of what I had once called barbarian grunts. It was a strange emotion to feel side by side with the bitterness of my captivity.
There were so many times I had looked at Kaden back in Terravin and wondered what storm was passing through his eyes. I knew what at least part of that storm was now.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For not understanding.”
“Until you’ve lived here, how could you know? Venda is a different world.”
“There was one more word. Everyone said it together at the end. Paviamma.”
His expression changed, his eyes searching mine and warmth lighting them. “It means—” He shook his head. “There’s no direct translation in Morrighese for paviamma. It’s a word of tenderness and has many meanings, depending on how it’s used. Even the tone in which it’s said can change its meaning. Pavia, paviamas, paviamad, paviamande. Friendship, thankfulness, care, mercy, forgiveness, love.”
“It’s a beautiful word,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he agreed. I watched his chest rise in a deep breath. He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but then he lay back down and looked up at the rafters. “We should get some sleep. The Komizar expects to see us early in the morning. Was there anything else you wanted to know?”
The Komizar expects. The warmth that had filled the room was swept away with a single sentence, and I pulled the quilt closer. “No,” I whispered.
He reached out and snuffed the candle with his fingers.
But there was still a question stabbing me that I was afraid to ask. Would the Komizar really send Rafe home piece by piece? Deep down, I knew the answer. Vendans had cut a whole company of men to pieces, my own brother among them, a massacre, and the Komizar had praised them for it. You did well, Chievdar. What was one more emissary to him? All I could do was make sure he didn’t perceive him as something valuable to take from me.
I turned toward the wall, unable to sleep, listening to Kaden’s breathing and his restless turning. I wondered about his regret at the choices he had made and all the throats he hadn’t held back from slitting. How much easier his life would be now if he had slit mine as he was ordered to do. The wind picked up, whistling through crevices, and I nestled deeper under the blankets, wondering about my own regrets to come, for the things I was yet to do.
The room closed in, dark and black and far from everything I had ever known. I felt like a child again, wishing I could curl into my mother’s arms on a stormy night and she could whisper away my fears. The wind punched and thrashed against the shutters, unforgiving, and I felt something wet trickle down the side of my face. I reached up and swiped the salty wetness away.
How quaint.
How very quaint.
Like believing some things last forever.
A tear.
As if that could make a difference.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KADEN
Enjoy your pet for now.