It Sleeps in Me by Kathleen O’Neal Gear Read Free Book Online Page A

purified the blood.
    She whispered, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
    “Perhaps you’d better start.”
    Sora’s gaze drifted around the chamber. Pots and baskets lined every wall except for the wall behind Sora, where Wink’s sleeping bench stood covered with finely woven blankets. It was a narrow bench, designed for one person. After the death of her childhood love five winters ago, Wink had remarried, as was appropriate for a clan matron, but it had been purely a political alliance. Sora wasn’t even certain that Wink and Sumac slept together. They occupied separate chambers in the Matron’s House and barely spoke together in public.
    Wink said, “I surprised you with that one, didn’t I?”
    “Yes,” she admitted. “Either I’m blind or—”
    “You’re blind. You always were when it came to Skinner. Any
other woman would have jumped into his arms, but you ignored him because you were drawn to his insane friend. Incidentally, that says something about you that’s a little scary.”
    Sora laughed.
    They both sipped their tea, smiling at each other when their gazes crossed.
    After a time, Wink said, “What are you thinking about?”
    “Oh, human frailties.”
    “Skinner’s frailties?”
    “Yes.”
    Wink frowned into her tea cup. “He was a curious child. After his little brother died from that fever, Skinner barely spoke for two winters. Do you remember that?”
    “Yes. I’d seen six winters, but I remember. After that, he always went out of his way to help any child in need.” She paused a long moment before adding, “He loves children so much I’ve always wondered why he never married and had his own.”
    Wink gave her a bland look. “You’re much more blind than I thought.”
    “Oh, Wink, I don’t think he’s spent eighteen winters pining for me. I think …”
    Wink lowered her tea cup to her lap. “Finish that sentence. You think what?”
    “Well, I’ve always wondered if perhaps he isn’t berdache .”
    Berdaches had male bodies but female souls. They were divine bridges between Light and Dark, Male and Female, War and Peace. In most villages they were prized as sacred beings. Often, the greatest of warriors took a berdache as his wife.
    Wink tilted her head, as though thinking about that.
    Sora could not say how many times they’d sat like this—too many to count. After the death of her father, Sora’s mother had gone mad for a time. She vividly remembered her mother running up and down the hallway screaming and slamming her fists into the walls. Sora had been lying on her sleeping bench with hides
pressed over her ears when Wink had come in, curled up against Sora’s back, and stroked her hair softly. She’d seen seven winters; Wink had seen eleven. She didn’t remember them exchanging more than a few words, but Wink had been there every time her mother had burst in and started ranting at Sora. While Sora shivered, Wink had screamed back, trying to protect her. The love for Wink that had been born in Sora’s heart in those few terrible days would never go away, no matter what Wink did, or failed to do.
    Wink said, “Tell me something? Skinner courted you right after you were made a woman, didn’t he?”
    “Oh, yes. My mother gave many feasts to introduce me to elite young men. Skinner was always invited, but he was too timid for me. Too sensitive.”
    “Really?” she said as though in disbelief. “That’s a part of him no one mentions these days.”
    “Well, he’s a war chief now. I’m sure he doesn’t want that widely known.”
    Out of respect for Skinner, she wouldn’t tell Wink, but she knew exactly why she and Skinner had never gotten together. He’d wept too often for her tastes, especially for a man destined to be a war chief. She remembered stumbling upon him in the forest one day when she’d seen ten winters; he was crouched before a wounded fawn, stroking its side with tears in his eyes. The fawn was near death, and Skinner turned to her and said, “