Nentai’s brow arched as I felt my vision begin to flare, and it was only with a supreme effort that I was able to rein in my anger. Although I managed to control my emotions, I did not feel similarly compelled to restrain my words.
“I’m trying to fix a world that you broke, Mother,” I seethed at her. “You and your siblings. I’m putting my life and the lives of my Tári on the line to correct your mistakes. And while I appreciate everything that you’ve given me, you’re telling me that none of them are willing to help protect my Tári while we do this?”
Nentai glared at me as I spoke my harsh words, but to no effect. As much as I loved her, my Tári meant more to me than anything else, and I was perfectly willing to butt heads with any of the Gods—even my own mother—when it came to their protection.
“The naming of a champion is no small thing, Daughter,” Nentai replied sternly. “It requires a significant expenditure of our power, along with the expectation that the one we’ve chosen will further our particular domain. You’ve already stolen from Raithe, and the rest of my siblings are in no hurry to see their efforts similarly wasted.”
I’d stolen nothing from Raithe—not in my mind at least. Saibra’s boon had been given to me freely, but I wasn’t about to argue the point with her. Mother had explained the issue well enough for me to understand the problem quite clearly, and I answered her sharply.
“Wasted?!? Refusing to use your powers to save the world you’ve ruined is the only fucking waste I see, Mother,” I replied coldly. “After all that’s happened, you’d still rather see your world suffer than work together to save it. I would’ve thought you might have learned from your past failures, but I see that’s not the case.”
For a moment, we just glared at each other across the small space, both of us seething with anger, and neither willing to look away. For her part, Saibra remained quiet, but I saw her fidget uncomfortably in the corner of my vision. Being forced to sit idly while the Goddess of Vengeance and her daughter argued heatedly right beside her was obviously not a very pleasant experience.
Finally, I relented. Not out of any sense of defeat, but because I realized that I’d unleashed my outrage upon the wrong target. Nentai herself had done all she could for me, and it was simply unfair of me to berate her for the failures of others.
“I’m sorry, Mother, please forgive me,” I reached out to grasp her hands as I spoke. “I know you’ve done all you can; it was wrong of me to take out my frustrations on you.”
“Yes, it was, Daughter,” she replied, without any trace of anger. “But your words were still true. We have learned very little, if anything, from our mistakes. Nothing may come of it, but I will speak to my brothers and sisters once more on your behalf. Even if I can only persuade one of them to help us, it will do much to ease your concerns. Regardless of what happens, I will do what I can for you, with or without them.”
“Thank you, Mother,” I squeezed her hands tightly in appreciation.
“We are much alike, you and I,” Nentai clasped my hands in return. “First comes the fire and regret only follows after.”
Nentai shimmered and then simply vanished, leaving my hands holding only the empty air. The Goddess often left me abruptly like that, and I’d grown accustomed to her sudden departures. Then, only once the last traces of her were gone did Saibra dare to speak.
“I never thought I’d hear anything like that,” she whispered.
“Mother and I argue like that quite frequently, Saibra,” I replied in amusement.
“No, I mean you actually apologizing,” she responded with complete seriousness.
It took me a moment to absorb the fact that Saibra had actually made a joke. It was so out of character for her that I just stared at her blankly for a while before replying.
“Did you just make a joke?”
“Did I?” Saibra asked me questioningly.
I began to wonder if in fact she’d been serious the whole time until the thin trace of a smile turned up the corners of Saibra’s lips. She’d played me like a fiddle, and I thought for a moment to strike back, but held off instead. Her humor heralded the emergence of something other than her hardened, reformed assassin’s exterior, and I didn’t want to discourage that in any way. Besides, I had better ways to get even with Saibra… if I was willing to wait.
We stepped back outside and rejoined the rest of my companions marching southward. Many of them were curious about what Mother and I had spoken about, but I waved off all their questions. None of what we’d discussed mattered until we were ready to begin planning the conquest of the Dark Lands, or Nentai returned with something to offer one of my Tári. Perhaps I’d discuss the latter issue with my Tári at some point, seeing as Saibra was already in on that secret, but the rest would remain undisclosed—a quick nod from Saibra as I rebuffed their questioning confirmed that she understood this as well.
We hadn’t been on the road long, only a few days, but the landscape already began to change noticeably. The stark, barren tundra of the far north slowly yielded to low grasslands, occasionally dotted with sparse clumps of trees. Even just the slight difference in scenery elevated my spirits, however, as it heralded our exit from the lands that had cost me so dearly. I doubted that I’d ever return to Laska of my own free will, and I’d unleash much pain and suffering if I were ever forced to come back again by some act of betrayal.
“Stop,” Venna whispered to me as I felt her take my hand.
“I can feel you beginning to dwell on your shadows,” she explained as we walked together.
“You’re right; I was,” I confessed. “But that’s not always a bad thing.”
“It is now,” she replied. “The pain of loss is too strong, and your wounds are still too fresh. It would not take much to push you beyond your limits.”
“No, Venna, you’re wrong,” I said, recalling my heated discussion with Nentai. “I won’t say that I’m completely healed, or that I don’t need you, but I’m not quite as volatile as you think.”
“It’s true,” Saibra uncharacteristically broke in. She’d been walking just a pace apart from us as we spoke and had heard every word.
“The Empress’ discussion with Nentai was rather animated at times,” Saibra offered diplomatically. “Yet she managed to keep from losing her temper, even when I thought she might do just that.”
I nodded my thanks to Saibra before glaring at Venna with a sense of vindication, but she only let out a soft huff and strode off in indignation.
“She’s not happy with you,” I noted as we watched Venna disappear among the sea of bodies marching ahead of us.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Saibra replied dryly.
I couldn’t help but smile broadly at Saibra’s humor. For the second time in just a short while, she’d joked with me, something I couldn’t remember her ever doing before. She was beginning to develop her own personality right before my eyes—something more than the restrained, nearly emotionless woman I’d once known. Not only that, but I could also tell that this new Saibra was someone I liked and looked forward to seeing more of her as she continued to emerge.
The rest of the day ended without any further incidents, and we camped once more by the roadside for the night. Bane begged off returning for the evening, choosing instead to pursue game across the open plains, so after dinner, Ella and I had the huge pile of cushions all to ourselves for the night.
While I changed into my usual nightdress, Ella stripped down to nothing but her flimsy bottom undergarment before slipping beneath the covers next to me. Had it not been what she always wore to bed, I might have thought she was trying to tempt me—perhaps she was. But I simply wasn’t quite ready for that yet, and only embraced her, cherishing Ella’s warmth as we lay together under the blankets. The sensation of her soft skin beneath my fingertips was comforting beyond words, and I snuggled tightly against Ella’s back, relishing the simple pleasure of her company. Unlike my struggles with Saibra the night before, Ella welcomed my embrace a
nd clasped my hand in hers as I wrapped my arm around her. Sleep came quickly for us both, even though I felt the first tugs of Ella’s V’Ríel pulling at me as my eyes slowly closed shut.
3
Ella was gone before I woke the next day. I’d expected that since I knew she had many duties to attend to, but I was still disappointed by her absence. She hadn’t told me who would be waiting for me the next morning, so as I dressed, I wondered which of my Tári would be sharing breakfast with me.
Venna had already poured two cups of tea before I parted the canvas wall and entered the antechamber, likely alerted to my impending arrival by the sounds of me getting ready. Her warm smile brightened the entire room as I sat down beside her, and I happily returned her grin.
“So,” I couldn’t help but continue smiling as I spoke to her. “Does this mean you’ll be my caretaker tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll definitely be taking care of you later,” Venna replied without missing a beat.
“Venna… I, that is, I’m not sure,” I sputtered in response.
She only smiled back at me wickedly as I fumbled, reveling in my discomfort.
“I know you’re not ready, Dreya,” Venna finally relented. “It’s not often that I have the opportunity to make you uneasy, so I have to take advantage of every chance I get.”
Bitch.
I summoned a small orb of light and began passing it between my hands as Venna’s eyes followed the path it traced back and forth. I smiled at her and held Venna’s gaze for a moment as I played with the little luminescent ball, twirling it between my fingertips as she helplessly stared at my creation. Then, with a quick flick of my wrist, I sent it into her, watching as the tiny orb melted into Venna’s skin.
As soon as Venna saw the ball of light coming for her, she braced for its impact, only to discover that all I’d wrought was a small orb of happiness with just a subtle hint of mischief.
“I love you, Venna,” I smirked at her as the harmless emotions filtered into her.
“I love you, too,” she giggled back at me.
I was expecting another quiet day, and for the most part, that’s what it was. Late in the afternoon, however, Bane alerted me that a rider was approaching from ahead.
One lone individual on the road was of no concern to me, and I trusted my soldiers and officers to handle whatever it was. Most likely, it was only some traveler or a messenger of some sort, but not one of my own. The couriers we used traveled in larger groups for safety; we’d rarely send one out alone on the treacherous roads of Arrika.
Yet it turned out that it was indeed a messenger for us, though he was not one of our own. The courier came from Ryland, the Realm that lay just ahead of us. They had already heard of the losses we’d suffered in our victory over the Laskans and rushed to bolster our depleted forces. Drawing from the ranks of their own defenders, the Kingdom had sent forth seven hundred soldiers to join us, far exceeding their obligation under the Imperial Charter.
The additional troops were apparently volunteers who’d chosen to serve in the Imperial Army when word of our conquest of Laska became known. With their neighbors no longer a threat, and only the Dark Lands left to be overcome, I was told that they might be only the first of many who would wish to join our efforts on their own.
“You’ve united all the Realms, Empress,” Líann counseled as we read over the messenger’s note. “Everyone knows what you plan next, and there will be many who want to take part in the conquest of the Dark Lands. Some to avenge their losses, others to share in the glory, but I’m certain that you’ll have many more soldiers than your vassals are required to provide you.”
The rest of my companions agreed with Líann’s assessment—the lure of finally defeating the Dark Lands would simply prove too much for many to resist. The need to answer the call and put an end to its menace should provide me with an even larger army than I’d ever imagined—at least that’s what they’d envisioned.
Time would only tell whether it was true or not, but still, the thought of taking on the dark menace with an even larger force than I’d anticipated at my disposal helped brighten my day. After the rough times behind me, and with only the long march home to look forward to, the good news was a welcome distraction.
I hadn’t taken a drink of anything stronger than water in days, but that night I had a mug of ale with my dinner and felt much better for it. It wasn’t the stronger brew Khorim preferred, but it was still refreshing for a change.
The ale also helped me finally unwind a bit. Over our shared meal, I found myself smiling more freely and truly enjoying the company of my friends and companions once more. It was the first night that I felt like myself since… before. But even when that sobering thought occurred to me, I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it, choosing to focus on where I was and what lies ahead of me instead.
When it came time to retire for the night, I couldn’t seem to find Venna, so I went back to my tent alone, wondering what had happened to her as I did. I should have known better because Venna was already waiting for me when I got there.
“I sent your not-so-little friend away,” Venna called to me from the place she’d made for herself among my pillows.
Sneaky elf.
Still, I didn’t mind. I’d been able to talk with Bane throughout the day and having Ella to myself the night before made me realize how much I’d begun to miss the company of my Tári. Even if we weren’t sharing our V’Ríel, just being with them helped me in ways I hadn’t realized before. Their presence alone was helping me recover, and I knew that I needed them more than ever—Venna in particular.
Despite the fact that Líann had become my Táriel, or that Tási and I had been so close, much of who I was revolved around Venna. She’d been the one to discover my Sintári nature and helped guide me through some of my more difficult moments. The V’Ríel we shared may have been one of my weakest, but the bond between us was both deep and strong.
“You’re so warm,” I whispered as I tucked myself in beside her.
“It’s the wine,” Venna giggled, and I quickly realized that she’d had a bit too much to drink.
“Why, Chief Minister,” I declared in mock surprise. “I believe you’re drunk!”
“I am,” Venna responded proudly.
If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that drunk Venna could be dangerous Venna, at least for me at that moment. As if in confirmation of that thought, Venna twisted around to face me and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling her face almost close enough to touch mine as she did.
“You’re my Sintári,” she whispered softly.
“Venna,” I tried to stop her, but she continued.
“My Sintári,” Venna said again, as she nestled her head between the pillow and my shoulder.
She lay there calmly for a while, simply snuggled against me. But before too long, the wine took its toll on Venna and she fell fast asleep, still curled up against me.
I had no idea what she’d truly intended—whether Venna had planned something more and the alcohol had simply gotten in the way, or if she’d really only wanted to just lay with me. But as I considered it, I found that I didn’t care. I’d been afraid to be with my Tári again so soon, but that reluctance had vanished. I finally felt whole again, recovering much more quickly from the trauma of Tási’s loss than I thought would be possible.
I knew that a big part of that was hearing Tási’s voice call to me from the rushing waters. Knowing that I hadn’t lost her forever was an incredible relief, but that wasn’t even the biggest reason for my rapid return to normalcy. My Tári had been responsible for that.
I could feel each of them, even from a distance; their reassuring presence had been and was continuing to heal my wounds even at that moment. It was yet another aspect of our relationship that I’d only just uncovered: the ability to help each other recover from even the most severe of emotional traumas. The true depth of the profound connection my Tári and I shared amazed me, yet I also knew th
at I still lacked a complete understanding of its full meaning.
Despite her state of unconsciousness, I kissed Venna softly, letting a thin tendril of my love flow into her as I did. There were no words to express my appreciation for what she’d unknowingly done for me, but my threads knew the language that I needed to speak to her.
Even in her slumber she smiled, and I lay back down beside Venna and wrapped her up in my arms, treasuring the woman who’d given me so much, and yet had asked so little of me in return.
“You fell asleep on me last night,” I greeted Venna the next morning when her eyes finally cracked open.
“Ow,” she whined. “Not so loud.”
Venna rose unsteadily from the pillows, and I helped her up and into her armor again before we left to join Líann for breakfast. With only one of my Tári left, I finally knew who to expect when we stepped outside the tent’s inner chamber. But instead of exiting right away, I stopped Venna just short of the canvas wall.
“What were you really planning on doing last night?”
Even in the midst of her hangover, Venna blushed and quickly stared down at the ground between her feet when I pressed her. Although she didn’t reply, Venna’s reaction told me all I needed to know.
“It would have worked,” I whispered to her. “If you’d only been able to stay awake long enough.”
Venna glanced up at as I spoke and I brushed my fingers across her cheek, letting a thin tendril of my affection flow into her, just as I had the night before. Only this time she was awake, and Venna felt my gentle thread, hearing its unspoken words of devotion clearly.
She had no way to reply to me in kind, but when Venna pulled me into a fierce embrace, I felt everything from her—affection, desire, and profound love mingled with a myriad of emotions that were simply beyond description. As she crushed herself against me, I realized that we were slowly becoming what we were always meant to be. Once I’d truly mastered my Sintári abilities, my Tári had begun to absorb a portion of my power. Although they’d never gain any of my abilities, our bonds had strengthened, and I could feel them more powerfully than I ever had before. I’d simply been too distracted and lost in my grief to notice it until that moment.
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