Captive Spirit by Liz Fichera Read Free Book Online Page A

recognize the anxiety behind my eyes. And even if she did what could she do?
    I searched the circle for Honovi but Honovi was missing.
    Then the drumbeats started again, faster this time. The girls on either side of me began pivoting around the fire and I had no choice but to follow them, pivoting in small circles, slowly at first then faster. This time, my heartbeat thundered against my chest and it became a struggle to breathe. Something felt odd, different. Wrong. Everyone started clapping again, and the girls around me began to shake their sticks, warding off the evil spirits. I lifted mine and did the same.
    Around and around, faster and faster, I danced until I thought I could leap into the air, from fright or excitement, I wasn’t sure which.
    We danced until our chests ached from breathing so hard, until the sky fell completely silent again, freezing us in place. The drummers stopped. The circle of men who danced around our circle stopped, too, so that there was one man standing before each girl. I blinked, staring back at the man before me. Like the others, he wore a red clay mask painted with yellow and green lines and bright white circles around the eyes. His bare chest glistened in the firelight from the sweat of the dance. It was covered with purple bruises and bright red cuts.
    Fresh ones.
    I bit the inside of my lower lip to stop a smile.
    They were the boys from the White Ant Clan. Had to be.
    Of course! I thought.
    This was a special dance to celebrate their ball court victory! I scanned their chests, trying to discern the faces behind the masks. Honovi? Sinopa? Who? My eyes danced trying to solve the puzzle but my cheeks stayed frozen. Mostly.
    Yuma approached the circle, along with Miakoda. Miakoda stood behind the boy who stood before me. My eyes lowered instinctively when Miakoda rested his eyes on mine. I was only brave enough to look at him directly when he wasn’t looking back at me. I’d rather stare into the eyes of a charging javalina than meet Miakoda’s empty eyes. He grunted and then jabbed his walking stick into the ground, once.
    I flinched at the sound.
    Then Yuma ordered the boys to remove their masks and my eyes lifted again, hoping for Honovi’s face, or even Sinopa, wanting them to know that I was in on their ruse. They might have fooled some of the girls but they didn’t fool me. No wonder Honovi had been acting strangely across the fire.
    Quickly, he removed his mask, lifting it upwards with one hand.
    I swallowed back a breath. My eyes widened.
    The boy who stood before me was neither Honovi nor any of the boys from the White Ant Clan.
    It was Pakuna.
    Without a word, he took a deliberate step forward, stomping one foot into the ground like he owned the circle. Then he grabbed my wrist.
    My body froze. I was too startled to say anything. Too stunned to move.
    That’s because I realized I was no longer a girl. I was a prize.
    Oblivious to my confusion, Pakuna turned to Honovi, his face gloating and triumphant. But then, slowly, even reluctantly, he turned his steely gaze on me. The reflection from the fire filled his dark eyes and sent a shudder through my body. They were the same empty eyes of his father.
    And that’s when I knew.
    This wasn’t a Dance of Womanhood.
    This was a wedding ceremony—mine. Chitsa had tried to warn me.

Chapter Four
    Unblinking, I stared back at Pakuna as his fingers tightened around my wrist. He pulled his shoulders back and smiled smugly while my arm twisted inside his hand. Next to him, Honovi stood with his mask dangling from one finger. His jaws clenched as he watched Pakuna drag me closer to his chest and for an instant I wondered if he planned to pull back and strike Pakuna with his mask. Part of me hoped he would.
    I continued to squirm as the hushed voices and gasps grew louder and more anxious. The villagers were as surprised as me. This had never happened before, a wedding ceremony following the Dance of Womanhood? It was