“You sound jealous.” Odessa marched over the soggy grass at the edge of their property with a bounce in her step that belied the sharpness in her tone. “You should be.”
“Just as long as you don’t drag them into the house like Cal did, I suppose.”
“If I had to drag her,” said Cal, “it was only because she didn’t have the wits to stand.”
“You’re in irritatingly good spirits this morning,” said Ben. “Does that have anything to do with why your so-called sparrow is refusing to come out of her room?”
“She is rather endearingly timid, isn’t she?” Cal kept his voice level, easy. “If she sought me out after the festival, I wouldn’t say no. I think I could have her begging for my arrow.”
“Are you sure you didn’t already strike her with it? I thought I saw blood on the settee in the library. And it looked like sparrow blood to me.”
“My, my,” Cal said flatly. “Game must be sparse if you’ve resorted to tracking me.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t drag your quarry through the house then, Caledon.” Ice in his voice, his brother said, “The girl already looks at you like she thinks you’re going to fuck her on the table. If you’re going to pluck her to ground, do it properly, at the festival, and treat her like the deer she is.”
“She’s not a deer.”I saw to that.
“Father says she is, Baby Cal,” his sister jumped in. “And you know he’s never wrong. He says you should know better after what happened last time.”
“And I’m not fixing your mess this time,” Ben said.
Cal’s hands flexed at his side as he looked purposefully at the lesion marring the backs of his brother’s knuckles. “You say, while we’re still knee-deep in yours.”
“That was different.”
“No, it wasn’t. And if you had fired your arrow when you weresupposedto, you would have figured out right away exactly what kind of heart your wife had, and what treachery she was capable of.”
“Don’t.” It wasn’t clear whether she was cutting him or Ben off, and Cal jadedly suspected that this was precisely her intent. “Really, Baby Cal. It’s so easy to ruffle your feathers. I’ve never seen you be so protective. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”
Then sun was beating down hard on his shoulders, hard enough that he felt the glow of heat in his cheeks. He yanked his shirt off in agitation, knotting it around his slender hips. The friction awakened the scratches Nadine had left on his skin, which stung sweetly as sweat mixed with the shallow wounds. “Nobody’s ever called me soft.”
“Well, I should hope not.” Ben looked at him askance, taking in his sparrow’s marks with a deepening frown. “Not if you’re that well-acquainted with what beats beneath your sparrow’s breast.”
“Let’s not fight.” Odessa handed him his rifle back with a stern expression that lacked her usual playfulness. “I want to find a deer. We’re running low on venison and I don’t want to wait until the ones that father ordered can make it through the pass.”
Cal darted a sharp look at his brother, who wouldn’t look at him. “Right,” he said slowly. “The rockslide.”
“What’s that tone, Brother?” Ben hefted his rifle over his bare shoulder. “You’re not going to give us a lecture on the legalities of poaching, are you?”
“That depends on what you plan on having poached,” Cal said. “The timing is rather precise, isn’t it? The ranger said the ground was scorched.”
“I don’t control lightning, Baby Cal.”
“I don’t think it was lightning. I think it was explosives.”
Ben barked out a harsh laugh. “Why would I blow up my own land?”
“I think you’d destroy anything you desired rather than see it fall into another’s hands.”
“That’s enough,” Odessa said. “You’re going to scare away all the deer with your bickering.”
They lapsed into silence as the woods swallowed them up. The trees grew so closely together that they seemed to absorb sound, every crunch of wet leaves beneath their feet muted. Cal saw Ben looking at him in his periphery, though he pretended to be searching the treeline.
Cal bent to examine the earth. Deer tracks were dainty, the indents of their hooves like a pair of slippers in snow or damp soil. The rain made it easier; breathing in the smell of petrichor, he scanned the nearby tree trunks, looking for signs of rubbing. Even after rutting season, some of the old velvet sometimes remained or the more aggressive bucks might still be scent-marking.
He stood, rubbing his palms on his jeans. Ben and Odessa had ventured deeper, towards a stream. Fresh water attracted all kinds of wildlife. Even when there were no deer to be had, one could still land a sparrow or a fox. They never shot the ravens, though. It was bad luck.
“I don’t understand,” Odessa was saying. “Usually the forest iscrawlingafter a heavy rain.”
