Vassal by Sterling D'Este (ebook reader computer TXT) 📕

He wanted to bathe in it, but Enyo proved too eager. She rubbed her cheek against his, the smooth skin like satin on sandpaper. Her lips found his throat. Her teeth.

And then the sky went dark above them.

Va'al looked up at the eclipse overhead and smiled. “Tha’et must have finally noticed his prize was missing.”

❂

Enyo growled slightly, annoyed that when she had finally decided she would take Va'al up on his offers, there was a distraction. Her irritation faded as she watched the light of the sky turn a strange greyish yellow. Immediately, Enyo felt laughter rippling through herself, and she crowed.

Tha’et was an ever-preaching manchild who seemed to believe that since his natural abilities aligned with the solar system, he was by far the most important, most powerful of the Gods. He was self-righteous and rigid. He didn't know how to laugh. Most of the time, he was boring, and the rest, he was downright infuriating.

And now Va'al had pissed him off, brought Enyo Tha’et’s precious pearl, and disturbed these too-settled lands.

She loved it.

How long had it been since she had fun? How long had she lived without laughter?

Rhosan gave her freedom and the peace of nature and mountains. And she had been happy. Truly content, or as content as a being such as she could ever be. But now? Now she was smiling, caressing the pearl possessively. And it was all because of Va'al.

“Let him sulk,” Enyo decreed, slipping her hand up Va'al’s torso to grip the back of his skull. Just as the pearl was now hers, he too would be.

Chapter XIV

Sixth Moon, Waning Crescent: Thloegr

Time began to behave very strangely, the further the party trudged into the mountains of Rhosan. One minute it was spring. Bright and fresh and full of promise, the next it was the start of summer. An entire moon cycle had passed within the blink of an eye.

Luckily, the further north they climbed, the more bearable the summer heat became. In fact, it was colder at night than it had been just one moon cycle ago, despite the sun’s unrelenting progress.

Alphonse became dedicated to her journal, every morning that Enyo wasn’t invading her body, she would write, filling page after page. It was becoming a near obsession as the healer realized there was a high chance these would be her last memories.

Enyo was able to seize control more frequently as the days passed, and for longer stretches of time. There would be some morningswhen Alphonse would wake up, eat, begin writing in her journal, and then appear beside the fireside at night, stomach growling furiously for food.

But Alphonse was fighting. She could feel the pressure on her heart, on her mind, and she would lean against it, holding it at bay for as long as possible. For hours, she would walk in silence, unable to play friendly games or chatter to keep her companion’s spirits up.

All she could do was walk and refuse Enyo entrance.

Of course, she lost. Eventually, Enyo would ambush her and take control.

The longer she denied Enyo, the more likely Alphonse would wake up in Tristan’s lap, or with her arms draped around his hips. It didn’t seem to Alphonse like an affectionate touch, but one of pure ownership.

She had quickly decided not to make a scene whenever she ‘woke up’ within his grasp. Instead, the healer would try to remain unchanging, making an excuse to get away and then return as herself. It was easier to pretend that Alphonse never touched the man, only Enyo did.

Easier for her pride, easier for her sense of morality.

Still, as the moon waned and then filled, the odd collection of travelers adapted and fell into new routines.

It was almost easy.

Except that it was the hardest thing Alphonse had ever done.

She suspected it was much the same for Etienne, who seemed to take the brunt of Enyo’s wrath and painful playful side. On top of that, Tristan and Etienne didn’t seem to get along very well. Alphonse could hardly blame Etienne on this, as Tristan was… Irksome.

Delyth, from what Alphonse was aware of, seemed unaffected by the flirtatious gambler.

One night Alphonse had confessed her fear that Delyth would enjoy Tristan’s company more than her own because he could spar and fight, which Alphonse could not.

The steady look the priestess had given her made Alphonse blush and admit it was a foolish fear.

The morning sun was overhead when the trail they had been following split into two. One path rose up up up a steep climb, the other cutting between two peaks in a dark and dreary looking swath through the shadow of the behemoth mountains.

Both looked ominous to Alphonse, and she hesitated as Delyth and Tristan discussed which route was safer. Swifter.

Would slow and safer be better than fast and hazardous?

“Etienne?” she murmured, having come to a stop beside him. Sometimes Alphonse thought he winced in her presence.

She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Do you think we should… Try to go our own way?” she whispered, voice so quiet it was barely audible. She didn’t want to attract Tristan and Delyth’s attention.

✶

Etienne started. He had been so focused on the discussion Delyth and Tristan were having. Now, he turned his attention to Alphonse, wondering how he had not thought of it himself.

Without the other two, it would be easier to bind Enyo. As it was, he had no idea how they would manage in the temple with two devoted followers struggling to help Enyo achieve greater power. Alphonse wouldn’t have to tell Delyth she had never intended to help the Goddess. They wouldn’t have to travel with Tristan.

The rogue was a constant wearing pressure on Etienne’s sanity. He didn’t understand how the others could tolerate him, always jabbing, always watching.

It was disturbing, the amount of attention the rogue paid to his companions. Alphonse was wrapped up in her battles with Enyo, and Delyth was just wrapped up with Alphonse, so neither