11: Know You By Your Scent

Know You By Your Scent

ELIA0

Elia stared at the broad arm he offered and swallowed. There was a set of white, jagged lines across his forearm as if some beast had swiped him with claws. His shoulder topped her head, and his chest was so broad—not to mention bare under the open vest—that she couldn't see past him when he stood in front of her.

He was huge and scarred and… feral.

If he was truly a protector, she would be safe from anything. But if his words couldn't be trusted… They stared at each other, and he shifted once, a breath of wind bringing her the scent of pine and rain and something uniquely him—and yet somehow familiar, though that was impossible.

He took one look over her shoulder, then nudged his offered arm closer, with a pointed look. Others must be noticing. Elia took a deep breath and reminded herself that if she was dying tonight anyway, it would be better to die touching him than that fur-painted woman.

She put her hands on that arm—it felt like warm steel, though his skin was surprisingly soft—and they started walking. As they disappeared into the shadows under the trees, they were surrounded suddenly by many of the people from the circle. Mostly big, tall men with straight shoulders and loping strides. At first, Elia flinched whenever a new body popped up out of nowhere. But as the men very clearly made a circle around them and gave their sharp attention to watching for anyone else nearby, Elia relaxed. Sort of.

It was hard to relax walking through a dark forest in high heels on the arm of a man who looked like he could snap your spine if he hugged you too hard. At one point she caught a tree root and her heel slid off, turning her ankle. She gasped and almost went down, but he just stiffened his arm and put his hands over hers to keep her grip secure, using himself as a counterweight to swing her back into step and onto her feet.

"Stupid, human shoes," he muttered under his breath so only she could hear. "You'd be better off barefoot, of course. But if you can't stomach that, I'll have some boots found for you back at the caves."

Caves? They were going to caves? Of course they were going to caves… If it weren't for the bruises and smells, Elia would still have told herself this was a dream. But she didn't ever remember a dream that smelled quite so… uniquely.

They'd been walking silently for several minutes when another large man appeared from ahead of them on the path they were following. Elia gripped Reth's arm and shrank back—the man was a foot taller than Reth, he had to be well over seven feet! Yet his limbs seemed long and thin compared to his barrel of a chest and strong back.

He approached quickly, though almost silently, and swept a bow before falling into step with Reth, who hadn't even slowed his pace. Elia took almost two steps to his every one.

"Interesting night," the man said in a low, deep voice.

Reth nodded without taking his eyes off the path ahead. "Very. What do the winds say?" he asked casually.

"The winds," the man said through tight lips, as if the word was sarcastic, "would suggest a full fist to watch the Your Majesty's back, and another to patrol the caves after the ceremony. Tensions are high."

Reth grunted and his hand tightened over hers on his arm. "I'll allow watchmen at the mouth and clearing, but no patrols. My people aren't so angry yet. Besides, after the ceremony things may die down."

The tall man turned his head to give Reth a very skeptical look, but he only nodded and kept walking.

A moment later, Reth's fingers tightened on hers again. "I'm very sorry, Elia, it was rude of me. I had forgotten you haven't met anyone—this is Behryn, Captain of the Guard, and my personal Defender."

Without thinking, Elia pulled one hand from under Reth's and extended it past his chest towards the man on his other side.

Both men just stared at her hand, then at her face. She flushed and pulled her hand back quickly. "I'm sorry, do you not shake hands?"

Reth growled something under his breath. "My apologies, again. I had forgotten the human tradition of shaking hands. Our customs are different. Here we simply allow ourselves to be scented."

"Scented?"

The men both nodded. "Everyone's smell is unique," Behryn explained. "Once we're familiar with yours, we'd never miss it. And since it seems we'll be spending a lot of time together in the future, it would be most useful to me if I could become familiar with yours."

Elia frowned and they both stared at her. "Well, of course, but… how exactly would I stop someone from… scenting me?" she asked faintly.

Behryn blinked, then brayed a laugh so loud, Elia startled. But the man clutched his stomach and almost doubled over. "She has a p-point, Reth," he brayed. "I can't believe I never… we never…" and he was off in wheezing laughter again.

They continued walking until Behryn had himself under control again, then as the people outside their circle of guards spread out, the tall man's face went deadly serious. "Are you certain, Reth?" he asked quietly, his deep voice barely a rustle in the leaves of the forest.

"Utterly," Reth said without hesitation.

The tall man sighed. "Then I'll circle the warriors while you prepare for the ceremony. We'll have a fist prepared to stay clear-headed, just in case. But they'll have to remain out of the smoke."

"I doubt we'll have anything to worry about during the flames," Reth growled. "As long as they keep their wits for after, we'll be fine."

"They'll keep their wits. She can dance naked through the village if she wishes. We will see her home safely."

Reth grunted again, then looked at his man. "Are you sure?"

"Utterly," Behryn said, straight-faced. Then he grinned wickedly. "It's safer for us under the foot of the lion, than in front of his jaws."

They both laughed so loudly it echoed in the trees.

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