Her mood was no better. If the truth was known, it was worse. She had the entire evening and night to lay in her furs, letting her imagination run rampant. So, he had found himself some blasted playmate to stroke his ego, and probably everything else he wanted stroked. Well good for him! Let her have his nine damn sons!
When she had stepped out into the daylight, she had lowered down to sit on the platform, eyes still red and swollen, but no one dared to mention it. Her tea materialized in the form of kasra sitting it down beside her. The girl had the good sense to disappear. Picking up the mug, she sipped and thought. What was she to do now? She couldn't just say.........no, I'm not mated to him anymore, could she? The beautiful brow furrows as she thinks on it. Well, others had, hadn't they? She had never understood why, but perhaps her understanding was making an adjustment. These thoughts brought new tears to slide down her cheek. The only thing was, she loved him. But, lately she was feeling lost, ungrounded. There was a time that she knew who she was, but right now, her self-knowledge and self-esteem was at a very low point. She was angry at herself for allowing this to happen, although she was not quite sure she knew how they got to this point.
Leaning back against the frame of the doorway, she sipped the tea and allowed her thoughts to travel back over the time they had been together. To the nights when he had held her, nuzzling into her neck, whispering of the plans he had for them and their sons. To the nights when they had made love on the platform of one of their last wagons, with the stars and moons watching them. To the long walks they took along the stream under the stars, and how he held her, made her feel cherished, treasured. Those times were gone. He rarely gave her more than a hurried kiss any more. He no longer held her when they slept. On the rare nights that he spent at their wagons anymore, he would fall into their furs, turn over and go to sleep. When she did venture to reach a hand out to touch his shoulder, or his back, he shrugged off her touch, told her he was tired and to go to sleep. Did he know that on those nights, she would turn over, curl up and allow quiet tears to soak the furs beneath her head?
She tried very hard to make his life a happy one. His clothes were immaculate, and the slaves never touched them, only her. She toiled at making his favorite foods for him. He always had fresh water in his botas, a meal in his saddle bags, neat, tidy wagons to come home to. She did these things because she wanted to do them for him. She did them with love and joy in her heart. She did them because she loved him so much, and wanted him happy.
Where was the man she had fallen in love with? The man that had been the one to spend ahn after ahn with her after Loch had died, convincing her that she had a life to lead, a full live of love and children. Where was the man that had held her son with such awe on his face? The man that had told her how proud he was of her? It seemed that man was gone. She loved that man and needed him, and he was gone when she needed him most.
Sitting up, she dumped the dregs of the tea onto the ground, took a deep breath and came to a decision. When she called for the girls, they had came to kneel at the foot of the steps. In a very calm tone, she told them that she wanted the ninth wagon cleaned from top to bottom, and fitted with furs. She caught the glance that went between them, and make the simple statement that if anyone asked, they were to say they were preparing it for a guest. Shooing them off to do her bidding, she looked out over the mass of wagons that seemed to stretch out forever. This had not been an easy decision for her, but at the moment, it seemed to be the only solution.
She could not find it within her heart to shame or dishonor either of them by seeking to have their mating set aside. However, she could remove herself from his wagons, from his furs. He seemed to find her repugnant, and she would not subject him to that any longer. Quietly, after the Central Fire had dropped below the horizon, she would move into the ninth wagon, a bit at a time so that no one would notice. She would still do his laundry, cook his meals, clean his wagons and raise her son, but she would no longer have to see that look he got in his eyes when he saw her. She would spare not only him of that, but herself of that indignity.
It was very evident to her that he no longer loved her, or wanted her. It seems that he wanted another. If that was true, then so be it. Stepping off the platform, she raised that stubborn little chin, gathered her dignity about her, and started to tidy up. Rook had taken Tug out riding and the baby was asleep, so the wagons were quiet. If one listened very closely, the only sound they would hear would be of her heart shattering into many pieces.
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