Free Voice of Crow by Jeri Smith-Ready

to convince Skaris to let go—”
    “Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he’s right. To me it sounds like self-defense.”
    Marek forced his mouth shut. It may have been self-defense at the moment he pushed Skaris, but not when he chased him or when he barged into the Bear’s house, bent on vengeance.
    “Go now,” she said. “Rhia must be waiting to hear how I did, though Skaris has no doubt already filled her in.”
    He returned home to find Rhia stretched out on the bed, looking paler than usual, as if the color had been scrubbed from her skin. Red-brown hair drooped against her high cheekbones and slender jaw, forming careless waves in all directions.
    She glanced up when he approached but didn’t raise her head. “He told me. It didn’t work.”
    “I’m sorry.” He sat beside her and brushed the hair off her cold forehead. “When was the last time you ate?”
    “Breakfast. Food makes me ill.”
    “Because you haven’t eaten. Elora told you to eat several small meals a day.”
    “She also told me my back wouldn’t hurt for at least two more months, so she’s not exactly infallible.”
    “Do the meditations help at all with—” Marek stopped himself. Saying Skaris’s name out loud seemed to goad the Bear into talking.
    “Some. I only hear him now when my defenses are down. When I’m tired.”
    “Which is all the time.”
    She nodded. “Elora said that was normal.”
    Marek went to the cupboard and pulled out a small stack of flatbread. He brought it back to the bed, then tore off a corner of a slice for her. “Food gives strength, or so I hear.”
    She munched a small bite of bread. “You made this?”
    “With the flour from Asermos.”
    She chewed carefully, swallowed and hesitated as if waiting for a reaction. “It doesn’t make me want to vomit.”
    “Why, thank you.” He relished the sight of her brief, tiny smile. “Let’s go home,” he said suddenly.
    She looked around. “We are home.”
    “Your home. Asermos.”
    “Why?”
    “Think about it. Skaris died while you were in Asermos, but it wasn’t until you came here that you started hearing his voice—or any of the others, for that matter.”
    “It doesn’t work that way, Coranna says.”
    “Is Coranna always right?”
    She chewed and swallowed another bite before shaking her head.
    “What will it hurt?” he said. “You can get better care for the baby in Asermos.”
    “Elora’s a good healer.”
    “But she’s an Otter, not a Turtle.”
    She creased her forehead. “I don’t need a Turtle. My pregnancy is normal.”
    “Having a voice in your head isn’t normal.”
    “I can’t leave Kalindos. These people are in mourning. I can’t give up my duties just for—”
    “What? Peace of mind? Just to be able to sleep at night or touch your husband without a dead Bear taunting you? How much misery will it take?”
    “I’m not miserable.” She sat up and crammed the rest of the bread slice in her mouth. “See?”
    “Be careful. Don’t eat too fast.”
    Rhia stood and grabbed the hairbrush off the nightstand.
    “Where are you going?” he asked her.
    “I have people to see.” She shoved the brush through her hair and tried to pull it back far enough to braid. “People to help. I can’t just lie around feeling tired and sorry for myself.” She gave up and threw the brush on the floor. “Still too short. I hate it!”
    “Rhia, it’s all right. Don’t—”
    He stopped when he saw her gaze shift up and to the left, as if she were looking within. The muscle below her eye twitched.
    “What is it?” Marek said. “What did he say this time?”
    “He said the baby was—” Her hand flew to her mouth, and he heard a gurgling sound from her stomach. She stumbled to the bucket in the other corner. Just in time, as her snack abandoned her in a series of retches that sounded as if her body were turning inside out.
    He brought her a cup of water and a cool towel for her face. She took them with shaky hands.