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

have ruined this so quickly? This wasn’t school. She wasn’t competing for grades and positions and rank.

Blinking rapidly, she sat back on her haunches. “Oh. You’re right. Of course…” Alphonse shivered, suddenly aware of the cold, for the first time in… well, since Delyth’s lips had touched her own.

“Perhaps I should stop.”

༄

One moment, Delyth leaned back, smiling at Alphonse, and the next, she could see the tension in the girl’s shoulders, the way she turned away.

Delyth sat up abruptly, suddenly horrified with herself. She had said the wrong thing or gone too fast or been too pushy.

She hadn’t thought—

Alphonse had seemed so certain—

“Little bird,” Delyth said, her throat tight and her face drawn, “what’s wrong?”

The priestess wound a wing around Alphonse’s shivering shoulders but didn’t move to touch her.

Alphonse swallowed and shook her head, looking for her nightgown. She reached for the satchel and undid the latches, pulling the top open to rifle through it until she could find a woolen sleeping shift. It was high-necked and long-sleeved. Severe. She tugged it over her head hastily.

“I ruined it and… I feel badly,” she explained, unable to look at Delyth as she swiftly started to braid her thick hair. Her fingers moved steadily despite her dismay. The braid was made quickly, and then Alphonse was running her hands over the rope of her tawny hair again, and again, looking at the tent flap.

“Alphonse,” Delyth said, a little desperately. “I loved every second of that.”

With Alphonse clothed, the priestess was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of her own nakedness. She pressed her arms over her chest and stood. Her clothes were still littered across the tent floor, but she didn’t really want to put them on.

She wanted to sleep with her skin against her little bird’s. Warm despite the cold outside.

“Alphonse, it's safe here. Just you and me. No rules.”

The priestess stepped forward and placed a hand gently on Alphonse’s arm. She didn’t want to be overbearing. She didn’t know how much contact Alphonse wanted.

The healer turned towards Delyth’s touch and slipped her arms about Delyth’s waist hugging her tightly. Her voice was muffled as she spoke. “I— I just wanted you to have good memories of me.” She swallowed and raised a hand to stroke the priestess’s hair. “You’re so very lovely. It’s ravishing, really…” She finger-combed those thick locks. “Shall I braid your hair for you?”

For a long moment, Delyth looked down at Alphonse. She wanted to remind the healer of their conversation earlier, of how they were going to move to Dailion when this was all over. Alphonse could finish her studies with Etienne, and Delyth would find some work—maybe as a guard or a messenger or well, anything really. She wanted to promise everything would be alright. That there wasn’t any need to worry about memories.

But it was just a dream.

Seeing Enyo to the temple might not free Alphonse. It could kill her. It could trap her mind in whatever dark abyss she fled to when the Goddess was in control or… or—

The future was a saltwater flood rising around Delyth’s chest while she dreamed of dry land. She was already choking on it, her throat tightening as Alphonse reached up to play with her hair.

She couldn’t promise a happy ending. But she could enjoy what they had now.

Delyth nodded; she didn’t trust herself to speak. She would let Alphonse braid her hair.

The priestess turned away and reached for one of their blankets, pulling it up below her wings and then around her bare body. She knelt to make it easier for Alphonse. “I’m sorry if it's a bit tangled… ”

When they slept, it was as they usually did, curled close beneath a great, black wing.

Chapter XX

Seventh Moon, Full: Thloegr

For some reason, Alphonse felt as if she were sneaking out of her own tent. She woke early, not having any way to know what time it was, what with the blizzard affecting the light that was able to filter into the cave, but she knew it was time to rise despite her late night.

She couldn’t help but remember what she had done… What she had done with Delyth.

Alphonse had dressed hastily and backed out of the tent, grateful that Delyth was either still asleep, or allowing her to escape without confrontation.

Guilt wracked through Alphonse, and she hurried to attend to her personal chores before anyone else came out of their tents. Etienne had been right. She was using Delyth. Even if her feelings for the warrior were genuine… Even if she cared for Delyth more than she had ever, ever…

But she was going to try her best to banish Enyo, and when she failed, Enyo would erase every piece of Alphonse. Then Delyth would be left with no Goddess or an angry, vengeful Enyo who would surely punish Delyth for loving…

Alphonse straightened up from restarting the fire.

Love?

Was that what this was?

Surely not! Delyth didn’t love Alphonse. They were close. They were friends. They were… paramours but—

Alphonse shoved the thought away with both hands. Because if Delyth—if Alphonse loved…

No. No. It was too terrible.

She hastily made breakfast despite no one to share it with and took her bowl of porridge to the edge of the cave, watching the snow fly by. Listening to the howling winds. She had created this storm.

It looked just like the one inside her felt.

She was the monster, not Enyo. Enyo was just a Goddess. Built and designed to be precisely what she was. But Alphonse… She was willingly tricking and lying to her friends, Etienne included.

They’ll never forgive you. Not really. And they can’t accept what you are now… Will be…

Alphonse clutched her chest, wishing for once in her life that the sick voice was Enyo’s. But it wasn’t. It was her own. The voice that once told her the right path…

Now it was as lost and broken as she was. No guide left within her, Alphonse wondered when Enyo had taken that from her.

She couldn’t remember when she