Markos. Sintija had said the name "Markos". It wasn't a name of anyone that Turpin knew, his heart twisted as he vaguely remembered something his mother said. Before Sintija had been sent out on her test to become a Laumina, she confessed that she was in love.
Daina thought Sintija's heart was on fixated on Turpin but that did not make sense with what just happened.
Markos was the name that spilled no, that erupted from Sintija's lips when he was entwined with her. Who was this man? It was not uncommon for tatya hini to have multiple lovers but he had not known of anyone that had lain with Sintija. Many wished for her affections but he was the one that had gained them, so why did she say another name?
Turpin stared up at the knots in the ceiling, uncertain. The warmth and scent of Sintija lingered though she had left. Had he bored her into fantasizing about someone else? He frowned at the sudden sense of insecurity. How many pairings had he experienced? How many women had begged for more? Why had she called for someone else? Was he losing his touch?
He thought of the endless days of quick glances, chaste smiles, and light brushes of their bodies over the years. The memory of the quickening of her pulse when he touched her and the richness of her smile when their eyes met were vivid. It felt real even as he recalled it. Had he imagined it all?
The question gnawed on him as he stared at the closed door willing Sintija back. She would come in and smile like she always did, and apologize. He was certain of it. He waited.
A symphony of crickets permeated the evening with their song but, Sintija did not reappear as the shadows lengthened and the crickets started to quiet. Turpin wondered if he had been wrong, and that perhaps, Sintija did not truly desire him. Was it pity then? Was it because his mother was Lady Korva and willed it? "Gods, guide her back here," he grumbled as he flopped back onto the bed.
The feel of her was still fresh in his mind, the press and earnestness of her lips against his. The memory of her made his pulse quicken and rekindled his passion. He pulled a pillow over his face in frustration. No woman had vexed him like Sintija had. Am I doomed to chase after this rabbit forever?
The question hung in the air as sleep finally claimed him.
---
Auseklis illuminated the darkness and filled the room with her gentle rays signalling that Saule would fully wake from her slumber in a few hours. The Gods answered Turpin's prayer, the dawn brought Sintija's return. He was uncertain of how long Sintija had stood in his doorway before he woke but the morning radiance caressed the soft curves of her body and cast her in warm, flattering shadows. She was lovely. The sight of her both lifted and pained his heart.
"Turpin?" she said finally, her tone sheepish, shy.
He was at a loss for what to say. He wanted to ask so many things but chose silence, beckoning her to him instead. Relief played across Sintija's face as she slowly moved away from the doorway.
"Perhaps," he thought, "she does want me."
Sintija crossed the room in slow, calculated movements that betrayed her hunter's training. It gave her an air of confidence that clashed with the uncertainty of her smile. He knew that the Laumina received more specialized training if their path led them towards the aristocratic ways, to be deadly in the high courts rather than on a battlefield but Sintija would never settle for that.
It was only when he could reach out to touch her that he realized that he had been holding his breath, afraid she would disappear. "Sintija," he spoke finally after a deep intake of breath, "I was afraid you weren't coming back."
Her weight shifted the mattress as she laid on top of the blankets beside him. The braids in her hair had been loosened causing her golden hair to fall in loose curls around her face. He had the sense she was gauging his feelings as she met his gaze with large, sky blue eyes. "She's too innocent for that type of work," he decided as he settled his arm around her.
"I've been walking through a dream," she slowly began, "...Lady Daina said that I am possessed by love. I.."
There was confusion in those bright eyes- yearning, desire, affection… loss, Turpin wasn't sure what to truly make of it. He waited for her to continue.
"I want to be here with you even if my dream obscures my waking hours," her hand caressed his cheek. She looked as if she was going to say more but that was enough for him. He silenced the rest of her confession with a passionate press of lips. There was time. Sintija was the air, and Turpin could only hold his breath for so long.
---
The days that followed the festival passed in a fluttering of wings. Sintija spent her days wandering the forests with the other village hunters as she waited for her next mission. When the hunters did not range far enough she ranged further still, returning home with stories of hidden temples and ancient runes.
Turpin's daily routine remained consistent, he tended the fires of his forge, content with his mastery of his family's craft of shaping metal and divided his attentions amongst his other lovers, family and Sintija, when she was home. Most of the evenings Turpin shared with Sintija were at the campfire, with her lingering beside but not quite touching him. It was an infuriating tease. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faintest tickle of her perfume but she kept a chaste distance in public. The village was flush with gossip, Lady Daina had finally gotten her wish, perhaps, the Laumina would provide her a grandchild.
If Sintija was aware of the rumors, she did not speak of it. Her gaze was ever fixed on the sky or the fire when she wasn't in conversation with someone. She was looking for something and it drove Turpin mad. Through time and patience, they had become an item, but he did not understand the woman he had joined with. He had never known a woman that spoke so little of her thoughts.
He knew everything about the forest, the patterns of the wildlife surrounding the village, the shape of the wind and the movement of the heavens from her eyes but he had no idea what she wanted for herself. Her future might have been smoke for all he knew. When his mother cornered Sintija about children, the younger tatya hinya would smile politely and appeal to Lady Daina's vanity and pride for her other children.
Sintija truly was the air. You could feel it as it shifted around you but you could only hold it for so long before it slipped away. Turpin held her now, and he hoped to not let her slip away. She had not mentioned the name of Markos since their first night together.
The Laumina had not been called out to a mission in months since her proving, and Turpin suspected it was driving Sintija mad with boredom. When she was in the village she was constantly distracted, looking off into the distance, ears perked and waiting. At least, he thought it her boredom was what was pulling her attention away from him. Village life was peaceful. He wanted her to be satisfied with a quiet life at home instead of living on the edge of a sword. Hadn't she had enough of blood when the templar's blade cut a hole through her?
Chasing men sworn to kill tatya hini and destroy all traces of the Word from the face of Jord. It was dangerous work. The reason there were so few Laumina in their order was many of them saw their end in the hands of the men of the Holy Sword. Bards sometimes brought back tales of templars falling in love with the wielders of the Word to explain why there was a rise in the appearance of half blooded children at the fringes of the human cities.
Turpin couldn't blame men for finding tatya hini attractive, their women were truly radiant. Those that could harness the power of the Word possessed a magnetism that drew people to them. It was little wonder that the Church of the Holy Sword had essentially forbidden the co-mingling of human and tatya hini bloodlines by its extermination of his species. But it worried him that Sintija was so willing to go out into the world to face down those men who both longed for her, in life and her death.
Sintija was quiet but he could feel her deep affection for him. It was in the brush of her fingertips in passing, the sparkle of her eyes in the brief moments their gazes met in public and in the need of her passion when they shared a bed. Her actions spoke louder than her words but the doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. She was not his only lover per their people's custom but he did not know if she had any others.
His mother speculated that Turpin was Sintija's first love and she would eventually find others as they caught her fancy. After all, hadn't Turpin himself obsess about his first love before he found others? He knew it was inevitable but it still filled him with dread. Who was this Markos?