Claiming Her. Marilyn "Mattie" Brahen

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      I lashed out vehemently at the name-callers. “Stop it! Leave him alone. There’s nothing wrong with his ears. It’s yours that are short and stunted!”

      The children, startled at seeing this quiet, demure, little mouse suddenly roar at them, fury in her gaze, stance and clenched fists, stopped their shrieking and jeering. I was well-liked among them and had never chastised them before.

      “Apologize to him!” My tone had dropped, my anger cooling. “You’ve been rude and cruel, to someone your elder, no less. You know this behavior is not proper in the Eyes of the Creator.”

      The small band of harassers sloshed uncomfortably in the lake waters. One of the smallest, Avram, waded forward, looked at Bael, and murmured, “I’m sorry.” Golden-haired Elisha moved beside him and echoed his apology.

      Bael had kept his lips firmly set, his posture stiff and expectant. Now he slowly relaxed as the other children mumbled their retraction, glancing at me. I nodded approval, and they went back to their water play.

      Bael had maneuvered closer to me. I returned his stare, but not without a hint of my old uncertainty, his gaze so unflinching and direct.

      “Why did you do that?” he asked.

      My words rushed out in one breath. “I couldn’t bear to see them hurting you.”

      “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. He splashed off and joined his friends, his younger brother Azmodeus among them.

      “Leianna’s in love!” the willow-thin fourteen-year-old with his mop of unruly blond hair shouted, mocking me.

      Bael cuffed him lightly. He protested, not at all injured, then swam off with his brother, who left him behind with swift arm strokes.

      I waded back to the shore and sat watching them frolic in the water. My friend Chloe came over, sitting beside me, her short robe dripping. “Are you?” she asked, her fingers untangling her long brown hair.

      “Am I what?”

      “In love with Bael.”

      I murmured, “How would I know what love is?”

      “You don’t know love,” she said. “You feel love.” She laughed, noting my blush. “It’s getting late. We should be going.”

      “You go on,” I told her. “I want to sit here a bit longer. It’s cool and restful.”

      Chloe’s grin challenged me. I lifted my eyebrows, my eyes widening, denying her the insinuation that grin plainly expressed.

      “Fine,” she said, and stood up. “You’re so proper, you’ll probably make him swim the lake back and forth for you.” She started off, then turned back. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

      “If I do things improperly,” I said, “I’ll have both my father and the High Council come down on him and me.”

      “Oh, pooh on propriety!” she said and walked up the bank toward the path leading back to our village.

      The sun was setting as the boys meandered out of the lake. Bael said something to his friends and left them, walking swiftly toward me.

      I sat motionless, watching his approach, looking up when he stopped a few feet away.

      “Come on, Leianna. I’ll walk you back.”

      He held out his hand. I grasped it, and he pulled me to my feet.

      We let go of one another’s hands, walking back to the village, not speaking, our silence easy and unstrained.

      We reached my father’s house. Bael smiled softly, secretly, and headed off to his own home.

      That afternoon proved our true beginning. Our friendship blossomed, the shyness we had once felt replaced with the pure enjoyment of being together, a growing respect, and, yes, an intense attraction and need also grew between us.

      I was fifteen; Bael, sixteen. We were children no longer. And just yesterday, as we worked side by side, tending new shoots in the Garden, Bael had asked in a low whisper: would I accept if he declared for me?

      My breath seemed stoppered. I could only smile giddily at him.

      “Will you?” he repeated, his tone an urgent throaty growl.

      “Yes,” I finally whispered back. “Yes.”

      “Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow I will come and declare our betrothal.”

      On the way back to the village, we found a less-used trail, and under its canopied arch of tree foliage, alone together for a moment, Bael leaned over and kissed me. I returned his embrace, all traces of resistance shattered. The kiss lasted only five seconds, but lingered on my lips as Bael led me from the shaded side-path. We heard a rustle of footsteps not far behind us. No doubt, an adult, watching at a distance. We grinned conspiratorially as we joined the others, traveling home from their day’s work in the Garden.

      We reached my thachka and Bael, with a knowing glance and smile, saw me in before hurrying off to speak, I knew, with his father.

      That night sleep was elusive, and I awoke barely rested. My father raised his brows at my sudden smiles and the pinking of my cheeks when he caught me in languid reverie, but never complained when I burnt the flower cakes at breakfast and steeped the tea too strongly, actions so unlike his perfect daughter.

      Unable to hide my feelings from him—for the man must make the Declaration of Betrothal and the woman not discuss it with her family beforehand—I climbed up to my sleeping alcove to do my mending.

      Father had smiled at me then, not wistfully, but as if he knew.

      An hour later, Bael and his father had greeted my father and been welcomed inside. I could hear their voices below.

      I concentrated on the robe I was repairing, trying to compose myself.

      It didn’t help. When Father called my name, I jumped.

      “Please come down here,” he called. “We have visitors.”

      I watched my footing as I climbed down the ladder and turned to see my father, Lucifer and Bael smiling expectantly at me.

      “Leianna,” Father said, “Bael has declared himself as your betrothed, in the presence of Lucifer, his father. You may accept or deny him as your intended husband. What say you?”

      CHAPTER 5

      That was the scene that remained hazily in my mind, as I awoke from the dream. My eyes opened groggily, scanning Ginnie’s alarm clock. 7:45 a.m. Ginnie still slept, and Daniel lay quiet in his makeshift crib. A peacefulness pervaded the bedroom as I lay back on my pillow.

      Leigh Ann. Leianna. How strange. I remembered Bael’s intensity, his eagerness to claim me as his own.

      Angels. The angelfolk. Michael, Lucifer . . . and Bael. The names of his brothers, Azmodeus СКАЧАТЬ