Their fathers had died before Tzader had been given a chance to ask for her hand in marriage.
Brina shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Me? I never accused him of anything. I’m only infusing logic into this discussion. So you would force Tzader to go on for years with no one to love if you can’t have him. You think love is so selfish?”
Put that way, Brina flinched at the possibility that she was being unfair to him, but . . . she knew the truth in her heart. “Tzader would never walk away from me.”
“No, he won’t as long as you continue to encourage him. He’s a man of honor. Where is your honor? Don’t you care about his happiness?”
“Of course I do.”
“But not enough to free him to choose another?” Macha shot back at her.
“I—” Brina swallowed, trying not to choke on the words honor forced to her tongue. “I would do anything for him . . . even set him free if that was what he wanted.”
“Then prove it by allowing him the chance to decide without the guilt of hurting you. You’re the one who brought up the issue of an heir. Were your motives pure and in the best interest of the Beladors, or only for yourself?”
Who would have thought that immortals got headaches? Brina did, and the one coming on felt as though it might lay waste to her brain.
She lifted her fingers to her temples and rubbed. Of course she wanted to ensure the future of the Beladors, but give up Tzader? Her stomach ached as if two brute hands twisted the muscles. Was Macha right?Would Tzader move on with his life if he thought that was my wish? Could I speak the words over the shouting of my heart—the words that would free him to choose?
Guilt splashed her anger with cold reality.
Her da and brothers had died defending the Belador legacy and future. Could she not be as selfless with less whining?
She’d accepted her responsibility many years ago.
But she’d always thought the children she bore would have Tzader’s brown eyes and heartbreaking smile.
Not to be ignored, Macha interrupted Brina’s thoughts with soft words of advice. “We face a growing crisis with these Alterants and leave the future of our tribe in jeopardy with each day you delay producing an heir. I am not without compassion for your situation and have a proposal.”
Brina listened with a guarded ear, but she would make any concession for the possibility of having Tzader. “I’m listening.”
“Convince Tzader you are no longer interested in waiting for him. Give him a chance to decide his future without any burden of guilt. If, once he truly believes marriage to you is no longer an option, I am convinced he still persists in wanting you, I would be inclined to reconsider my position on this matter and entertain possible solutions.”
“Really?” Brina hesitated to believe Macha’s words so easily. The goddess wouldn’t blatantly lie to her, but she could turn words into a thousand different shapes and meanings.
“Do you question me?” The goddess stilled.
The fire beneath Macha blazed and grew in fullness.
“No, Goddess,” Brina quickly amended. “I was merely surprised . . . and overwhelmed.” Could she break up with Tzader and stand quietly by if he walked away and never came back to her? “But why can’t you simply ask him the truth?”
“Because he would cut his arm off before he’d hurt you.”
Brina enjoyed a thrill at Macha’s having to admit just how much Brina meant to Tzader.
Macha added, “And I believe he would relinquish immortality without a second thought to be with you.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“If he has suffered a life-threatening wound from Noirre majik while immortal, the majik may still linger in his body. If so, and I remove his immortality, he may suffer the aftereffects of that wound, possibly even die immediately.”
Brina couldn’t speak. Breathing hurt.
Tzader had fought countless battles against the Medb and been wounded more than once in the past four years. He’d almost died when the Medb had trapped him, Quinn and Evalle in Utah. A Medb warlock had stabbed Tzader with a spear tipped with the only substance that could kill him.
The thought of Tzader risking death just to be with her sickened Brina.
