Captive Spirit by Liz Fichera Read Free Book Online Page B

unprecedented.
    And yet no one objected.
    No one dared.
    Everything around me—the voices, the faces, my own heartbeat—moved fast and slow at the same time while my knees wobbled, barely strong enough to keep me upright. I waited for somebody—anybody—to say something. Miakoda frowned from behind Pakuna but I was too stunned to care that his disappointment was directed at me. I felt like a rabbit in one of Honovi’s snares, helpless.
    “Wait,” I finally said, my voice cracking. “This…this can’t happen.” I looked over my shoulder for Ituha and Gaho. Yuma stood behind them, his hands on their shoulders. But was Yuma holding them back or pushing them forward? Surely they would help me. Surely they would step forward when they saw my confusion. I could barely find words.
    “Silence!” Miakoda glared at me as he extended his arm. “This can happen. It can and it will. Hunab Ku deems it. It has been foretold.”
    Foretold?
    I looked frantically for Chitsa but she still rested on the animal skins. Her head bobbed like she was between trying to sleep and stay awake.
    Still breathing heavy, I turned back to Pakuna but I could not look at him directly. A cold smugness twisted his face; he was as much a stranger to me as Miakoda. And I wasn’t about to become his wife without a fight, especially when it was clear that I was more prize than wife.
    Then, surprisingly, Miakoda laid a heavy hand on my shoulder but I think it was more for the benefit of the Clans than me. “We cannot disappoint Hunab Ku, my new daughter. The village has suffered enough already. We may not survive another harvest…” He let his voice trail off, shaking his head at the serious dilemma.
    I swallowed and pulled back but Pakuna only tugged harder and my wrist burned from the heat of his hand. Finally, my eyes pleaded with Honovi, my last remaining hope. My eyes begged his to do something, anything.
    Honovi’s nostrils flared as he watched Pakuna’s grip tighten first around my wrist and then grab for my shoulder.
    “Let the wedding ceremony proceed—” Miakoda said, but Honovi interrupted him.
    The villagers gasped.
    “Stop!” Honovi yelled and the circle grew silent. He stepped forward and grabbed my other arm. But then Miakoda’s eyes widened with so much rage that everybody cowered, everybody except Honovi. Instead of retreating, Honovi stepped closer so that my shoulder pressed against his chest.
    The villagers began to fidget anxiously.
    It was an outrage to behave so brazenly in the presence of a tribal leader, in the presence of his own family. I shuddered to think of Honovi’s punishment. Surely he would be whipped. Or worse.
    When Miakoda raised his stick, the crowd fell silent again. I wondered if he intended to crack his stick across Honovi’s head. If he was bothered by Miakoda’s stick, it wasn’t reflected in Honovi’s eyes.
    Honovi turned to face Pakuna, his feet spread and planted firmly beneath his shoulders. He looked ready to fight. I had never seen his eyes blaze so, not even at ball court. It was as if they held the sun and the Sky Wanderers all at once. Honovi’s warm fingers continued to wrap around my arm as he spoke.
    “Pakuna cannot marry Aiyana,” he said in a clear voice meant for everyone to hear.
    But Pakuna only laughed. “And why is that, White Ant?” The words spewed from his mouth like food unfit to eat.
    Honovi’s shoulders pulled back and he drew in a breath. Then he said, “Because it’s not you who loves Aiyana, it’s me. She should marry me, not you.”
    Another collective gasp rose from the crowd as Pakuna’s eyes widened. Clearly he wasn’t accustomed to being reprimanded. And especially by someone from the White Ant Clan.
    But then quick as a heartbeat, Pakuna tossed his head back and laughed. Loud. His laughter made me flinch, even more than the threat of his father’s weathered stick.
    I turned to Honovi and searched his eyes. They still blazed with rage.
    He must be