Goddess Liv Savell (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

edgy since the attack. They were unused to inaction. She had heard mutterings in the hall, discontent. Too many had died or been injured for this slight to go unanswered. The only reason Tanwen hadn’t sent out scouts and warriors was because she knew the enemy was too powerful. But her people were proud and a little foolhardy and brash. They wanted retribution. And if someone volunteered… it wouldn’t be as if she sent them to their death. Would it?

Niclas was waiting, his grey eyes steady on her face, his expression neutral, as if he didn’t care what her answer would be.

“Fine,” she snapped, flinging the word at him with venom. “Fine. I’ll go talk to the warriors now. See who is stupid enough to want to track down a Goddess and invoke her wrath. Oh, and travel with Delyth and that boy.”

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

“Here—Boy!”. At first, Delyth didn’t react, but when the mage slowed and turned, A sharp voice called from behind Delyth and Etienne, on their way to the great hall she followed his gaze. The woman marching up the hill to him was nearly as intimidating as Delyth, without the wings or height. She had coppery tan skin and bright black eyes that flashed beneath the thick yellow warpaint she wore smeared across her eyes and down her lower lip and chin. She was small but well-muscled, her compact form covered in the usual clan-leather and wool tunic and leggings.

Her black hair was pulled into a wild horsetail at the back of her skull, braided and thick. Nearly matted. The sides of her head were shaved, showing criss-cross scars and nicks. She stopped in front of Etienne and looked him overwith blatant appraisal, and then grinned.

“Were you always so skinny and pale, or has chasing around that mad woman made you so?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin back to gaze into his eyes without blinking.

The halfbreed was sure that the comment she made to Etienne would send the boy to arguing, just as he always had with Tristan.

But no. He looked a little…bemused. As though uncertain why one of the warriors here had bothered to address him. “I’m afraid I’ve always been this way,” he said. “But chasing after Enyo certainly hasn’t helped.”

The warrior had to give him that. Etienne had not bulked up on their travels. If anything, he was the least suited to such a vagabond existence. She’d thought little of him this entire time, but how hard must it have been to be placed so completely out of his element? She tried to picture herself doing well in the halls of his school but couldn’t.

She’d go easier on him. For Alphonse.

“I’m Etienne,” he told the girl. “Who are you?”

“Meirin. Well, if you’re tired of being frail, I could teach you some strength-building exercises. Then you might not look like a white stork. Although—” Her dark eyes were dancing as they drifted over to Delyth, her wings. “I suppose you’re in good company.” She smiled again, and not bothering to wait for Etienne’s reaction to her odd offer of help, turned to Delyth.

“Do you remember me, Priestess Delyth? I was much younger when we last met. You taught some of the children fighting techniques. I was among them.”

Delyth shook her head. “I remember teaching, but it was a long time ago. Too long for specific faces.”

Her summer spent with the Mynydd Gwyllt felt like a lifetime ago, but she still remembered the people here fondly. They had been accepting at a time when she had thought she never would be accepted.

Now, she thought she would be an outcast happily if she could only have her lover back.

“Delyth is fine, Meirin. I am a priestess no longer.”

Etienne looked up at that, his pale face pinched in some emotion she couldn’t name. Guilt, perhaps? Or just concern. Either way, it was fleeting. He turned back to Meirin. “Do you know what your War Chief decided? We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“War Chief Tanwen asked the warriors if any one of us would like to go along on your mission. I suppose you’ll just have to wait to see if anyone was interested.” Meirin nodded her chin towards the great hall, where a bell was ringing.“Noontime meal.”

Tanwen was visible upon the steps on the great hall, looking their way with a cross expression. It looked like bad news, but as Etienne and Delyth approached, she could see two large packs, stuffed to bursting, at the War Chief’s feet. So she would give them supplies.

“Here are your packs. Eat, and then I’ll take Delyth to the armory. Do you need a blade as well, boy?” Tanwen asked, tone bordering on sneering. Clearly, she didn’t believe Etienne could proficiently handle a weapon of any kind.

“Yes,” Delyth said before Etienne could open his mouth. “He’ll need a staff.”

He looked at her, his eyes wide, but she ignored him. He would have to learn how to defend himself, and a staff was the quickest option.  Delyth brushed past Tanwen and into the hall, intending to eat as quickly as possible so that they might be on their way.

➳

Tanwen settled at her place at the high table, ornate goblet in hand but not eating as the rest of the clansmen who were available for noontime meal greedily gobbled down the contents of their plates. Her stomach was twisting and turning, and every time she looked at Delyth, once again stoic and in control, her heart sputtered. Tanwen had seen her real face, though Delyth’s nasty arguing yesterday had simply proven what Tanwen already knew to be true. The woman was aggressive and unstable.

A beast.

But she was promising to try and get Gethin back, and her people wouldn’t be sated until it seemed as if she was taking some measure for retribution. This was the best course of action.

Still, she hesitated.

The meal was nearly