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

of him? Have them swear that he will never again step foot on Thloegr. If they fail, perhaps we will be rid of all of them.”

The mage squeezed her shoulder again, and Delyth took a deep, shuddering breath. She couldn’t make herself speak a civil answer, but she didn’t cut down the suggestion either.

They waited as the Gods huddled together, discussing the bargain, and Delyth made herself into stone. This was the only path she could see leading toward Alphonse’s freedom, for all that it would cost the warrior.

Forgive me, annwyl.

The animal howled again, closer this time, and overhead, the clouds broke. For a moment, stars were visible high above, and then they were lost behind black-satin wisps. Delyth’s eyes snapped back to the Gods when they approached. It was Enyo who held her hand out to Delyth in agreement. “We will abandon these Vassals and not harm them. We will contain Mascen and keep him from Rhosan. We will kill no mortals. You will give over the artifact and cease your efforts to thwart us.”

The muscles in Delyth’s jaw bunched, hatred a beast threatening to consume her, to eat its way free from her chest just for the chance to harm Enyo. She would have to shake the Goddess’s hand. “And you all swear it?” Only after they had each repeated the words did she nod and seal the promise.“You have a bargain.”

The pressure was not so much a surprise as it had been the first time, and with her stance wide and her back straight, Delyth bore it without sinking to her knees. The sky above them was rent with a sound like lightning—magic clapping against the edge of existence.

And then it was over, just as suddenly as it had begun.

Delyth yanked her hand out of Enyo’s. “Etienne, hand them the artifact.” It had been in his bag since well before Gwynhafan, and he did as she asked, holding the horn out for the Gods to take. Maoz tucked it beneath his arm.

“We’ll need a Vassal.” Enyo looked at the mage, but Meirin interrupted.

“Who is that for?”

“What?” Enyo snapped.

“The horn, what God does it bring back?”

“Aryus. Death.”

“Doesn’t Aryus have his—”

“Their.” Enyo cut in, correcting the girl.

“Own priests?”

Enyo scoffed. “Everyone is a follower of Aryus, whether they want to be or not.”

“Then where will you look for a Vassal?” Etienne asked, and Delyth found herself hoping, absurdly, that it wouldn’t be terribly far.

“Is it too much to ask that they be willing?”

Chapter XX

Eleventh Moon, New Moon: North of Gwynhafan

She hadn’t intended to spy or eavesdrop. Really. Meirin had climbed the tallest tree she could find—a scraggly oak that grew on the south side of a shallow valley where a trickle of water ran during wetter seasons. Around her, the land sloped upward in soft, grass-furred hills, but she could still see farther from her perch in the highest branches than she could on the crest where the others camped. That view had drawn her up the rough bark. To scout. Or to buy herself a few private moments. The morning had flown by with snarling insults and uneasy glances as the Gods and humans tried to find some sort of understanding. All the walking on eggshells had given Meirin a headache, so she had fled under the guise of being useful.

It was too strange to watch Gethin glide around, red wolf-lithe, no smile to be seen, not a flicker of recognition. Too awful to watch Enyo snarl at or pine for Delyth, often in the same breath. She had thought coming on this journey would be the adventure of her lifetime. Serving her clan and seeing the world. Making her name as a warrior. Had it been greedy or naive to think this would have been fun? Probably a combination of both.

Whatever it was, now Meirin was stuck up a tree, watching as Enyo knelt beside the spring. The Goddess reached out to splash the water over her stone arm, sending light reflecting off the edges like gemstones. Nothing happened. Enyo repeated the process three times before she slumped back, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arm about them tightly. Enyo buried her face against her thighs, and her shoulders quivered. Cursed Realms, was the Goddess weeping? Meirin held her breath, not daring to move. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Enyo found her in that tree, watching her in a vulnerable moment.

As if summoned by his lover's misery, Va’al appeared, his speed still incomprehensible to Meirin. How had anyone thought he was mortal? He put a hand on Enyo’s hair, stroking it back away from her face.

The bark of the tree was sharp against Meirin’s palms, biting her flesh. She mustn’t shift to spare her legs; she mustn’t reposition her hands. She could make no noise. Only watch.

Enyo turned her face up to Va’al, whatever tears she had shed absorbed by the sun or some other power. The Goddess turned her cheek to press further into Va’al’s palm, and she murmured in response, voice husky and weak. The interaction reminded Meirin of her own parents. Of the way they exchanged little touches in quiet moments or held each other up in hard times.Enyo and Va’al’s behavior just did not make sense with Meirin’s understanding of the Gods.

Va’al’s thumb stroked Enyo’s cheek— No. Alphonse’s cheek. That was Alphonse’s body, wasn’t it? Whatever he said had Enyo laughing, sudden and unbidden. She smacked away his hand, but as he helped her to her feet, Enyo didn’t object to his touch, to the arm he looped about her waist. Striding from her sight, the last thing Meirin could see was Enyo tilting her head to rest it upon Va’al’s shoulder.

How many lovers had she seen walking arm in arm, just like that?

She waited twenty breaths. A hundred. Two hundred. When it seemed certain they would not return, Meirin climbed down out of the tree, kneeling beside