Chronicles of the Selphia Plains [Rune Factory 4]

The Cry of the Peacock Part II

Standing in the kitchen slicing vegetables to make a curry, Avani heard the front door slam forcibly and her heart sank. She imagined that even in the best of times, Bhima would be only just barely tolerable, but she couldn’t confirm that as they hadn’t had any of those yet. His moods, at least as directed towards her, seemed to be either bad, really bad, or unspeakable. If he was slamming the door with such force, it would most likely be the lattermost tonight. She gave a shudder and forced herself to set the knife down as she heard heavy footsteps rapidly approaching.

Before she could so much as turn, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. Gritting his teeth, he glowered into her startled face. “I told you to stay away from Sundara!”

She turned white at that, at a loss as to how he had so quickly discovered her disobedience, but she lifted her chin defiantly despite the quaking she felt inside. “So what if you did? You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t see! You know our customs as well as I do! If you don’t like it, go find a lover yourself—or two, or three, or a thousand for all I care!”

Narrowing his brilliant  emerald green eyes, he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her, struggling, out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom. Flinging her back against the far wall, he closed the door firmly behind him, glaring at her.

“I will not risk you bearing a child to your effeminate lover instead of to me. Your children will be mine, and mine alone. Is that clear?”

The fear in her eyes turned to desperation, which in turn gave way to recklessness, knowing what was coming. Clenching her fists to still her trembling, she faced him, looking him in the eyes. “Then you have nothing to fear,” she retorted. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. I will never bear your children! And Sundara is not effeminate—he’s a thousand times the man you are!”

A low growl escaped him, and he lunged at her, grabbing her by her blouse and throwing her onto the bed. He tore her clothes from her, then standing over her, he snarled, “We’ll just see about that,” as he unbuckled his trousers.

**************

He was gone. She didn’t know—or care—where he went, nor when he returned, as long as it wasn’t soon. His absence brought her nothing but relief. Pulling herself up, wincing in pain, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Ignoring the crimson stains on the sheet behind her, she stumbled, still naked, down the stairs to the bathing room and proceeded to wash every last trace of him from her skin and hair, soaking and scrubbing until she was as raw and sore on the outside as she was on the inside.

When she was done, she dressed and went out the back door. First she completed a lengthy series of stretches and acrobatics, followed by her training exercises, one discipline after another: hand-to-hand combat, daggers, sword, and finally spear. She was no match for her husband, she knew—he was easily the tallest and strongest man in the tribe, and he had at least twelve more years of experience than she did. But maybe, just maybe, if she kept on training….

It was well past midnight when he finally returned, and she was already in bed. She made sure to leave him the soiled side of the bed, refusing to lie where her blood mingled with his seed. It was a small, perhaps even spiteful, gesture, yet one she always made, leaving the damnable stains there until the next morning. She feigned sleep as he strode in and stripped off his clothing before climbing into bed next to her, hoping that he’d leave her alone. She always wished that he’d return immersed in some other woman’s scent—knowing that there were many in the tribe who would gladly give him the favors that he plundered from her by force. If he sated himself elsewhere, maybe he’d leave her alone now and then. But he never did. He apparently had no interest in the softer, gentler emotions—love, for instance. Even sex seemed to be merely a means to an end for him—reproduction and intimidation, primarily—and not something he desired for its own sake.