Vassal Sterling D'Este (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📖

far too crafty at putting Delyth on edge. Instead, she answered her as simply as possible. “The temple at Glynfford is the only life I have known.” She shifted in the small space, crossing her arms over her chest. “Was the offering suitable, Taouk? Will you let Alphonse sleep?”

Something like ire flared in Enyo’s eyes. “You care for the vassal, but not Enyo,” she murmured. It should have been a question, but it seemed more like a statement.

“I do not see why… this body…” She slid her hands, Alphonse’s delicate healing hands, up her throat, down her chest, over her arms. “It’s weak. This neck could snap so easily,” Enyo sighed as if belabored by the frailties of her dreadful human form.

Delyth kept her face impassive and her eyes on Enyo’s rather than on Alphonse’s hands moving across their shared body. There was a draw there that she did not quite want to admit to herself, much less to Enyo.

“There is more to strength than physical power,” she said, her jaw set stubbornly.

“Certainly. Cunning mind… that she does not have. She can barely lie. Raw magical power?” Enyo sneered. “She will not use the magic you and I know that is superior. Afraid of blood. Afraid of sacrifice. Her only redeeming trait would be the pure will of gold. It never ceases to bother me… Constantly it is vying for attention. Demanding I—we—” Enyo cut herself off.

“Goodnight, Ba’oto,” she breathed, settling onto the pallet, eyes wide as she stared up at the top of the tent.

Delyth smiled into the darkness. Perhaps she ought to have been on Enyo’s side, but something about Alphonse’s gentle courage warmed her from within.

The priestess lay atop the pallet next to Alphonse’s, her shoulders tense while the Goddess had control of the healer’s body, but she went ahead and draped a wing over her anyway. It would keep Alphonse warm and wake her should Enyo stir.

“Goodnight,” Delyth returned belatedly and without her usual warmth.

Chapter IX

Fifth Moon, Waning Crescent: Thloegr

In the cool of the evening, Delyth sat with her back against a tree and her feet to the fire, the regular rasps of her whetstone filling the clearing. Etienne sat nearby, scratching lines of ink into an ever-more tattered notebook, and Alphonse set about making dinner. The tents were already pitched, the gear stowed. It was pleasant, the routines of the campfire mimicking something like home.

There was a flower behind her ear, just one of the common valley variety, but she reached up to brush it with her fingertips in between strokes with the knife. Alphonse had gone wandering off into a field of flowers earlier that day, but as it turned out, it was her choice to do so. She had explained to a baffled Etienne that the stems of these flowers were good for tinctures to stave off infection, then tucked a flower behind her own ear, his ear, and insisted Delyth wear one as well.

They had walked the rest of the afternoon to the sound of Alphonse humming an Ingolan song about daisies.

Delyth smiled to herself at the thought, though the smile dropped when Alphonse’s gentle voice took on Enyo’s demanding intonation. It had been three peaceful days since they had last seen the Goddess.

“Taouk don’t cook,” Enyo pronounced, her tone that of a queen. She then sauntered to the edge of the clearing and peered up into a tree. Supposedly, for the pure pleasure of listening to it murmur as the wind blew through it.

Delyth shared a glance with Etienne across the fire. “I’ll finish dinner. Will you keep an eye on her?”

He nodded. He’d been a bit self-conscious about dinner ever since the girls had teased him for it, though with Alphonse doing most of the cooking, it hadn’t come up much.

Delyth scooped upthe spoon Enyo had dropped and set about her tasks. Etienne put away his book and followed the Goddess, his voice only dimly registering in the halfbreed’s mind: “What’s so interesting about the tree?”

✶

“Must there be something specific?” Enyo asked, her voice a lazy drawl rather than the sharp, harsh notes it carried when she was annoyed. She seemed downright content. “This tree has stood here for years and years. No wind has knocked it down; no human tampered with it.” She patted the spruce’s trunk is something close to affection. “It is a very fine tree,” she announced as if giving a blessing.

Perhaps she was. Etienne supposed it’d be like her.

Curling one arm loosely about the trunk, hugging it almost, she swung around to look at Etienne more closely. Inspecting his limbs, his torso, his hair. Her long-lashed eyes, narrowed in the manner only Enyo could do, hovered on his face in particular.

The quiet stretched on between them as Delyth worked.

Etienne’s immediate instinct was to flinch away, to look anywhere but the hard, alien gaze. Only, he was tired of being the weak one.

Every time Enyo appeared and Alphonse jumped into a waterfall or went charging into the underbrush, Delyth was steps behind, as though she feared neither Enyo herself or any obstacle the land might present. All while he remained. Left to help only after Delyth had done most of the dangerous parts.

Etienne knew he wasn't a warrior, but still. It irked him to have to rely so much on another for the safety of his oldest and dearest friend. Besides, he was going to be a high sorcerer, after all. Already, he knew of magics that few others had delved into. Delyth was not the only one who could stand up to the nature Goddess.

So, with Enyo’s gaze locked on his, Etienne narrowed his eyes and stared back in just as calculating a manner.

Initially, Enyo seemed irked by this eye contact, as though she had enjoyed his fear in the past. But as Etienne continued to gaze into her fiery eyes without flinching, a small, but deeply concerning smile traced her lips.

She released the tree and approached him, one