Goddess by Liv Savell (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

cottage in the woods, half an hour’s walk from the nearest settlement. Close enough for Alphonse to tend to any travelers or villagers who fell ill, but far enough away for the privacy both she and Delyth loved.

“Daydreaming?” Alphonse came to stand beside Delyth and tilting her head to rest against Delyth’s shoulder, a delicate hand tracing a line up and down Delyth’s spine. “I do that too, sometimes. I think of Etienne or the coast, or what I’ll make for supper.”

“Would you like to visit the coast?” Delyth hooked an arm around Alphonse’s waist and took a sip of hot tea. “I was just in Aberdwyr for this errand, and I came across a Cabot man similar to the one you healed the first time you had to work completely alone.”

“Brande? Really? Did you speak with him?” The healer turned towards their small sitting area and motioned for Delyth to sit in her favorite low backed armchair so that Alphonse could sit in her paramour’s lap.

“Yes. He was a young man who worked on a ship that had just brought in several barrels of a rare wine, the object of my search, and helped me find the merchant who had bought them. In all the bustle of the port, I think my trip would have taken much longer without his aid.” Delyth’s tea lay forgotten half-finished on the little table in the center of their sitting area, her fingers idly combing through Alphonse’s hair while they talked. “On the way back, it got me thinking about all those plans we made in the cave about Dailion…”

They didn’t often speak of the time when Enyo had coiled in Alphonse’s chest, but those stolen moments in the cave were still a happy memory for Delyth.

“Do you want to go? I would like to meet Brande if we can, and others like me. We could see Etienne, and you could get out of the cottage for a bit if you wanted to. It's perfect here, but it’s been a year since you’ve left.”

Alphonse leaned back against Delyth in quiet consideration as she thought about the possibilities. The few little trips they had taken had always been enjoyable, and one of the villagers would happily look after her chickens… Alphonse grinned and turned to kiss Delyth’s cheek. “Won’t you miss Sylvie too much?”

Delyth snorted, her lips curling upwards. “Whatever will we do, snug in a warm inn without any hens to drag us out of bed in the morning?” She squeezed Alphonse playfully. “They’ll be fine, between the villagers and stoic Margot to protect them.”

Alphonse glanced out the window towards their front garden, overgrown with creeping vines and flowering bushes. To the road beyond. A slow soft, smile tucked its way into the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll pack the bags.”

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

Although they had flown south, Alphonse held close in Delyth’s arms, the pair entered Dailion on foot amid innumerable others, just another couple on the crowded road. Around them, farmers drove carts laden with produce, merchants moved in caravans of brightly-colored wagons, and travelers of all descriptions walked or rode between them. While the majority were the warm tan of middle Ingola, there were golden-eyed people with what looked to be feathers amongst their hair, islanders, Cabots with blued skin, and webbed fingers… Though Delyth did not see another with the distinctive wings of Maoz’s bloodline, neither did she feel as though she stood out. Dailion was a major city, and the road leading to its north-facing gates was a more thorough cross-section of the Cabots of Illygad than she had ever seen.

The wait to pass through the gates was something she could have done without, however. It seemed to take an age after the quick travel of their flight to stand in the portal and state their business to bored guards. When it finally was their turn, the armored woman didn’t so much as blink at Delyth. She must have seen stranger visitors in her time at the post. And then they were through, buildings crowded round them more thickly than the trees surrounding Glynfford.

Delyth took a deep breath.

This city was much busier than Aberdwyr, the streets packed with newcomers and city dwellers alike. She could not imagine the number of people who lived here, on top of each other, breathing the same air.

A small but steady hand slipped into Delyth’s, offering a reassuring squeeze. “Since Etienne is a Master at Moxous now, he will have been granted ample lodgings. Though how tidy they will be…” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “I did send a message that we were coming, so… Maybe he cleaned up?”

Shaking her head, Alphonse regripped Delyth’s hand. “It’s a bit louder than I remember…” She led Delyth through a labyrinth of paths until they came to a large fountain. At its center were stone statues of people. Hands outstretched creating water, faces upturned gloriously to the sky. It was the most impressive piece of stonework Delyth had ever come across, but Alphonse didn’t seem to notice the fine details, the warmth of the marble. Her eyes were on the students bustling past. “They look so young.”

“You looked almost that young when we first met.” Delyth squeezed Alphonse’s hand, smiling down at her fondly. She was only a handful of years older than Alphonse, but still, the healer had seemed so small, so delicate that first afternoon when they’d come across each other on an empty, tree-cloaked trail. Now, though her outward appearance had not changed outside of the loss of her veil, Delyth did not think those words fit Alphonse any longer. She’d borne too much, fought too hard.

And won, ultimately.

Delyth turned her eyes back to the fountain and the students milling about the courtyard. It was a little odd to see for the first time a place she had heard so much about. She could easily picture Alphonse studying on the manicured lawn or climbing