“No one is getting banished,” Orthorr insisted, putting his hands up in a calming gesture. “Yami, will you tell me why?—”
“It does not matter why!” Tavik bellowed. “She poisoned me!”
My mouth fell open in shock. “She what?”
All eyes swung to me. Ordinarily, joining in on clan matters without Orthorr’s invitation would not be allowed. But Orthorr knew why I was here. He tipped his head toward Patrick, allowing me to move to Patrick’s side to protect him in case Tavik did something stupid. Just in time too, since Tavik’s focus swung Patrick’s way once I got close to him. He jabbed a finger at Patrick, baring his teeth at him.
“This is your fault! You are so weak that you could not take a joke so you went crying to the elders and turned them against me! You should not even be here! You are not clan! Verus should have left you in the woods to the shadowstalker!”
Moving in front of Patrick protectively, I glared at Tavik. “Choose your next words carefully. You lie to save face. Your cruel words were no joke. You are right that Yami should not have been the one to deal with you. It is me you should have faced. I am more than happy to correct that error now.”
I heard Patrick’s gasp, felt his hand fist in the back of my tunic. He was worried for me, probably because Tavik was bigger than I was. That didn’t matter. He was an idiot and not a good fighter. Rath’s father taught me to fight well when we were boys. Rath and I still practiced together several times a week. I had no fear of Tavik.
“Enough,” Orthorr barked. “Someone will explain to me what happened now, or you both will face the consequences.”
Tavik opened his mouth, but Orthorr interrupted him with a glare. “Not you. You have said enough.”
Orthorr’s gaze shifted to me, silently demanding that I speak.
“Tavik called Patrick many cruel things, thinking he could get away with it because Patrick is not a tribute. Had I not had Patrick to protect, I would have handled it between us.”
Tavik opened his mouth to argue with me, but a dark look from Orthorr made his jaw snap shut again. He knew better than to talk back to our clan leader. That could get you banished or demoted. He could be on trench duty for months for the insult alone.
“So you walked away to protect Patrick. Why then is Tavik accusing Yamileth of poisoning him?”
I did not have an answer for that. I hadn’t known she intended to get involved. Had I known, I would have requested she not. She was getting older and frail, and Tavik was emotional when angry. I didn't want him lashing out and hurting her.
All eyes swung to Yamileth, who crossed her arms over her chest, her chin lifted in defiance. “He made Patrick cry. He deserved what he got.”
Orthorr’s sigh was long suffering when he asked, “What did you do exactly?”
“I added visek to his meals. If so much shit was coming from his mouth, I felt it necessary to give him assistance to clear it out. He is here complaining from embarrassment, not pain.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Visek was a healing herb, usually given in small amounts to clan members after a long hunt if they got backed up. If she laced his food with it, Tavik probably spent hours, or maybe even days at the trench dealing with the consequences. How long depended entirely on how many meals he got from her between now and when she began to torment him.
“Verus,” Orthorr scolded, though I could see the way his lips twitched. He was fighting back his own laugh. Meanwhile, Tavik looked close to losing it. His face was bright red, and he looked ready to explode.
“This is not funny! You say I am cruel, and yet she can do things like this without consequences?” he snarled.
Clearing his throat, Orthorr shook his head. “No one said she would be without consequences. Yamileth, you will choose two others to help you and Patrick with the cooking. They will watch over you to make sure you aren’t tampering with other people’s meals.”
Yamileth glowered, but didn’t argue. She hated people in her cooking tent. She thought them bothers who would only get in her way. Only Patrick ever won her over enough to allow her to let him assist.
“Fine. But he is still not allowed back in here,” she snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Tavik. “He sent his little cohort in here to accost Patrick. They do not deserve to be fed by the clan. They can feed themselves.”
Orthorr’s brows furrowed, and he turned to look at Tavik again. “Care to explain yourself?”
I wanted him to speak up too. I felt the distinct urge to go hunting for Saneth for such actions.
Tavik refused to speak, his lips pressed together in a thin line. That got him a dark look from Orthorr, but he didn’t waste his time demanding it. Instead he turned to Patrick, still mostly hidden behind me.
“Verus, move so I can see him.”
Reluctantly, I side stepped to give Orthorr room to see my ravsol without moving from the path between Tavik and Patrick. I still didn't trust him. Patrick looked worried, his hand still clinging to my tunic and his body hunched in on itself. Like hewas afraid he would be hurt. I took his free hand and kissed the back of it.
“You are safe, my Patrick. Tell Orthorr what happened.”
Patrick’s hand tightened in mine, and I could see his gaze dart to the tent flap. He wanted to run away. But when his gaze returned to me, he shored up his courage and drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to look up at Orthorr.
