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

full wakefulness. Alphonse knew it was a silly question, but she wanted just a few minutes with Delyth alone.

Even if she had to steal them from her own sleep.

Delyth shook her head in answer, instead of speaking and wrapped an arm around Alphonse’s waist to pull her closer, freehand stroking gently against Alphonse’s cheek.

The healer chirped in happy surprise and draped her arm over Delyth’s shoulder in a hug. It was easier to talk into the darkness like this, rather than face to face in the light of day. So she barely blushed as she asked, “Did you like the flowers? They were pretty, like you.”

Never would she have dared be so bold without the velvet cover of night.

Still, this was all so incredibly new to her, and she didn’t know how to proceed. Some small desperate part of her very much wanted to impress Delyth, but her logical side chided that was foolish. Delyth wasn’t some Master Mage at Moxous.

She’s more important than that. Alphonse realized with a jolt.

When had that happened?

“Yes,” Delyth whispered into the darkness. “They were as lovely as you are.” She brushed loose curls from Alphonse’s forehead and pressed a tentative kiss there. “I’m glad you woke me.”

Alphonse hummed in agreement and leaned into the kiss. Even for a few minutes of sharing breath and time… That was enough for her.

More than enough.

Because in the darkness, she could be truthful with herself, if no one else. Enyo had seized control all day, and Alphonse had never once wrested it away from the Goddess. Not even for an instant. The closer they got to her wretched temple, the longer they shared a body…

Alphonse knew how insurmountable her task was. Even with Etienne and all his magic and all his studies…

Enyo was a Goddess, protected by Delyth and assisted by Tristan, who was obviously cunning and manipulative.

Alphonse was a mere human—an adequate healer and not much else. Etienne was impressive with scholarly magic, but he couldn’t face Enyo alone.

Alphonse wasn’t stupid. Every day that passed with Enyo infecting her mind, her soul, and her heart, was another day Enyo was closer to obtaining full and total return to the physical realms.

And Alphonse knew, in her gut, that meant she’d be gone. Whatever shred of hope or humanity or magic that made Alphonse who she was would be torn and ripped and sliced until nothing was left but Enyo.  She could feel the weariness in her body. She could see the weight disappearing. A mortal wasn’t meant to fight a Goddess forever...

So the healer would steal these few moments of happiness with Delyth, even if they were limited. Even if they were a fool's hope. Even if it was confusing and complicated and outside the order of things Mother Agathi had dictated was essential.

Mother Agathi wasn’t here right now.

But Delyth was.

And so was Enyo.

Chapter XVII

Rhosan, Year 662

“Mascen.” The reprimanding tone was less effective, coming from Esha. Her naturally mellow voice couldn’t hold the harsh, intimidating timbre required to cow the boy. He hardly listened when his birth-mother, Enyo, scolded, and she could bring down mountains, so it wasn’t particularly surprising when he made no response to Esha chastising him for making a mess in her garden patch. After all, she was a soft Goddess of bounty and fertility. What would she possibly do to keep Mascen in line? His black eyes were unflinching as he turned away from Esha, where she sat in the earth, planting seeds, and instead focused his efforts on his half-sister, Rhaimon.

Without hesitation, Mascen reached to push Rhiamon into one of the carefully cultivated rows. She was tricky and light on her feet, hopping to avoid her mother’s hard work with a smirk.

Mascen frowned and leaped after Rhaimon, who had taken off with a whoop of joy, running towards the fields. Despite their difference in age and size, Rhaimon was able to keep ahead of Mascen, smile fierce and wide, bright teeth flashing against ebony skin.

“Did you see that?” Esha asked Va'al, poking her finger down into the dirt to create a little hollow for the seed she kept warm in her palm. “He’s aggressive and obstinate. I worry he’ll affect Rhaimon,” Esha dropped the seed into the hole and covered it. Patting the dirt into place, she held her palm over the spot, endowing it with the strength to grow and flourish.

Her pale blue eyes drifted to Va'al, brows knitting with concern, and her empty hand moved to the swell of her belly, carrying another life there. Another child to worry about, to protect from his ‘hostile’ offspring.

Va'al snorted, watching his children chase each other through the spring day. It was more entertaining by far than helping to plant or tidy or any of the other infernally tedious chores that Esha seemed determined to fill their days with. She had plenty of followers— why couldn’t one of them handle the planting?

“He’s just a kid, Esha,” he said, yawning when the children seemed likely to do nothing more interesting. “Children play.”

Hopefully, Enyo would get over her last fit of temper sooner rather than later and come pick up the boy so that he could cause a bit of trouble. The endless months with Esha were beginning to make his skin itch.

Hells, he might as well just take Mascen with him. The boy did seem to have a propensity for mischief.

The fertility Goddess shook her head mournfully. “I spend time with children—many of them. I understand children. He is not just a child, and to think of him as such is an exercise in denial.”

With the grace that only a Goddess could possess, Esha stood, dusting her hands off as she watched Rhaimon and Mascen disappear into the fields of rolling wheat. “He needs order and love to temper his erratic and aggressive nature.” Despite her own ‘order’ and ‘love’ for the past seven odd moons, Mascen’s behavior hadn’t changed an ounce. He was too wild. Too willful. Too