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

an old friend, finished this first Trial quickly. The second took more care. We had to find a route through an area guarded by older warriors. Detection meant failure.”

In the nights before the Trials, that was the part that had kept Delyth up worrying. She was not stealthy by nature: her height and massive wings made quiet crouching awkward and uncomfortable. The Trial itself had proven less difficult than she’d imagined, however.

“It was less a test of stealth than one of cleverness,” she continued. “We paused for a time, hidden in the trees, and worked out the pattern in which the patrols walked the field. Then, we simply went through where they were not.

“The final contest was atest of skill. We had to fight a number of warrior priests, older and more experienced. They were just supposed to test us, to let us pass after we had proven ourselves, but each I met seemed to fight me with their full strength.”

Delyth remembered little about this point of the Trial except for her anger. They had tried to keep her from their ranks, tried to force her to back down. Delyth, who had lived and served at the temple every day from the time she could walk.

“One by one, I fought through them. Tan—my friend, gained ground ahead of me. Those behind us began to catch up. I could not bear to let them pass me. I had to be first. I had to prove beyond any doubt that I had earned my right to walk as one of them.”

She swallowed. Though distant now, the longing to be accepted by the other warrior priests was heavy in her chest.

“I threw myself forward with renewed vigor, fought with abandon. And finally, pushed through the last of the priests. My friend reached the end before me, but she was the only one.”

Tanwen, eager and exhilarated and careless, had thrown her arms around Delyth as the halfbreed finished. In some ways, it’d been the beginning of the end for them, but at the time, she’d only felt victorious.

“I was made a priestess of the temple at Glynfford that night.”

Her name had been called first, in the end, as Tanwen could not take a place among them. The feast had lasted hours, her memories of it jumbled from excitement and alcohol. She’d danced. Heard her name called. Slipped into darkness to find Tanwen’s mouth, honeyed from mead…

It had all changed so fast after that.

❀

Alphonse had listened raptly as Delyth spoke. She found herself staring at the priestess unwaveringly and even leaning forward, looping her arms about her knees to rest her chin atop. To the healer, this was the best story because Delyth had claimed her rightful place in the temple through nothing more than her own will and determination. Years of hard work and dedication. Alphonse had only found a cure for Brande because she was weeping in defeat.

And Tristan had been greedy in stealing from those dragons.

But Delyth… She fought for the rights they should have given her in the first place.

Her lips trembled in emotion, and Alphonse struggled to find the words, a way to express what she was feeling and thinking.

She coughed, hastily wiping her eyes on her skirted knees before trying.

“Is that when they gave you Calamity?” Her voice was partially choked with raw feeling.

༄

“No, aderyn bak,” Delyth said. Her eyes searched Alphonse’s face fervently. Was the healer upset? It had been meant to be a happy story. “I wield Calamity only so that I might protect you. I received the sword a little more than a week before we met.”

At her side, Tristan yawned, wider and more noisily than necessary. “How sweet,” he drawled. “The little halfbreed fighting her way to acceptance.”

Etienne just looked thoughtful. For once, he didn’t take the opportunity to snap at Tristan. “How did they know then, that Enyo had been summoned?”

Delyth did not particularly want to share just how… sentient the sword was. If Enyo found out that the priestess had been using Calamity to track her, she might make it impossible for Delyth to continue doing so. Instead, she told them a half-truth.

“The temple had a seer named Cerys who received visions of Enyo’s coming. I was chosen because I could handle the sword without becoming a slave to its bloodlust.”

At the time, Delyth had been proud of this. Now she wondered if it wasn’t simply because the same bloodlust coiled in her own breast, fighting for release.

❀

Alphonse shivered at that. She couldn’t remember what it felt like precisely, to hold Calamity, but she did know how dearly Enyo loved the blade. Desired it.

Hungered for it.

“That is because you are a pure soul. Only good could battle that… That piece of Enyo…” Alphonse trailed off, realizing what she was saying. Even as she believed it was true, then that meant her own goodness. Her own purity was fading or changing… And that was why Enyo was able to take hold so much more easily now.

Frowning, Alphonse pushed the thought away and turned her amber eyes upon Tristan.

“You shouldn’t call her a halfbreed. She’s a warrior priestess, and she fought for the title. She’s stronger than all of us, and we should treat her with that respect.” Her tone was admonishing and strained.

Alphonse didn’t enjoy arguing or any sort of conflict. Normally, if Tristan bullied anyone, her especially, Alphonse would ignore it or crumble.

But Delyth had fought so hard for her rank, for her place in the world.

Swallowing, she did her best to hold his gaze though it made a pit of snakes open in her belly. She could do this. For Delyth.

Tristan rolled his eyes at Alphonse. “So what? She passed some little test set up by twittering rule-lovers. That doesn’t make her any less… mixed.”

He sat back and looked over at Delyth, who was blushing fiercely, her usually granite features open in a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. “bykhan…” she muttered, her eyes on Alphonse.

“What do you think, Del? Would you prefer