Free The Legend of the Bloodstone by E B Brown Page A

own across the blazing fire. Good thing she had not mentioned Marcus. Although the thought made her smile, the ache of missing her home felt heavy in her chest. The orange flames cracked and spit when he tossed in a loose stick, and she wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back.  She rested her chin on her locked hands and stared into the fire, remembering the way it felt when she fell through the barn wall and the sun engulfed her being.  She wanted to ask him where the Bloodstone was, but feared to damage the uneasy peace between them.
    “It is strange for me to talk so much to a woman,” he admitted. Now it was her turn to laugh, and she scoffed at his ad mission.
    “Oh, is that so? If you were in my time, I would never give you the time of day with that attitude,” she retorted. Her confidence grew as their exchange remained playful, but she knew she tread a thin line with his ancient ego.
    “ Humpf,” he snorted. “Maybe so, Tentay teh .  But here,” he said, pointing to the ground he sat on, “here women obey their men, and wait to be spoken to. My men see you defy my words, and they ask why I did not punish you,” he said quietly. Maggie stopped rocking, aware the conversation had taken a turn. She pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear and noticed her hand trembled. Damn the man and his veiled threats! 
    “I thought I was being punished. You keep me here like a prisoner,” she whispered.
    “ Pishi , I do keep you, it is my right. Not as a prisoner.  If that was so, I would have cut out your tongue days ago.”
    She said nothing as he sat up, his face shrouded now in an unreadable mask as he stared at her across the fire. A not-so veiled threat?  She liked it even less.
    “ In this time my warriors follow me without question. They wait even now for my command. If I ask them to leave their women, they do so.  And their women honor them as they go.” His voice dipped as he stared into the heart of the fire. “Warriors do not answer to women. I will not answer to you out there,” he pointed toward the door where they could see members of the village taking a meal by a large central fire. “Here, in my yehakin , I will hear you. You can call me… show-vist pig …and I will hear you.”
    Maggie stifled a hysterical laugh at his attempt to placate her as she bit back her despair. Winn was clearly throwing down the gauntlet, and her life was held in the balance.  She would obey him without question, or she would be punished as women of this time were punished. He understood her own time was very different, so he was giving her a way to talk to him without damaging his authority with the tribe. She wished she could feel more grateful, but the only emotion she could summon was frustrating defeat. She was trapped, not only in his time, but also in his yehakin, to be punished at his discretion. He had not forced himself on her, for which she was relieved, but she feared it would not be long before he expected as much.
    She would play by his rules, but only until she discovered a way back home. She refused to admit she had little choice, deciding instead to fool him into trusting her. It was the only way to get what she wanted.
    “Chauvinist. You’re a chauvinist pig,” she said softly, enunciating the syllables.
    “ Pishi ,” he nodded. “And you may keep your tongue.”
    He rose from his spot and approached. Her eyes never wavered from his, glaring in muted defiance when he gently pulled her to her feet.  He led her to the sleeping mat, which she let him do since her limbs were numb and useless at the thought of what would happen next. With a few careful tucks, he nested the furs around her, and she closed her eyes.
    When she dared to open them again, she saw him across the fire. He lay on his side, head on his forearm, his eyes closed in sleep.

Chapter 7
     
    A stream of morning sunlight warmed her face as she woke to find the yehakin empty.  She should be glad the heathen