Goddess by Liv Savell (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

matter how small. There would be no locks in her face, no burrs in her clothes. She turned towards the sunrise, still new and bright, and stood for a long time admiring the pinks and oranges. She had spent too little time enjoying the colors of morning.

Smells of cooking filtered past, and voices started to rumble and bicker. Where would they go? Which route would they take? What would they do when Mascen inevitably appeared, ready to fight? Meirin took a deep breath in, noticing keenly how her lungs filled with air, how the tightness in her chest relaxed ever so slightly. She knew this was the right choice.

✶

Etienne took his bowl of porridge from Delyth’s hands and looked back towards his tent. Where was Meirin? Should he have stayed in the tent and waited for her to get up? It wasn’t like her to sleep in so late.

He shoved a spoonful of the hot breakfast into his mouth, wincing slightly as the tin camp spoon scraped his teeth. When Maoz started to look towards the pot as though he might like a second bowl, Etienne set his own down and rescued a serving for Meirin. She’d not want to start the trek on an empty stomach.

When she finally stepped into view, a grin spread across Etienne’s face, wide and happy, and he held up the bowl of breakfast that he had made for her.

Meirin took the bowl and settled beside Etienne with a smile of her own. She bumped her knee against the mage’s a few times in silent companionship, and when he met her gaze, she winked. “Sleep well?”

“Never better.” Etienne grinned at her, blushing faintly even after their coupling. It was easy to ignore the others, to sit close and think of nothing but the brush of her knee against his even when the world might be ending.

Was this how Allee had felt, sipping tea beneath Delyth’s wing even as they climbed to Thlonandras? If so, he was sorry for doubting her. Things were just more bearable with someone to hold.

“How about you? You were still sound asleep when I got up.”

“I could have sworn I heard someone snoring… But I slept well enough.” She nudged him with her shoulder and scooped the last few bites of porridge into her mouth.

Etienne flushed again. “Must have been Maoz.”

“Must have.”

Meirin turned to Delyth. “Will you help me take down my tent?” It was a strange request given that Meirin had never needed help before, but then they were all feeling the strain of the last few weeks. Etienne was a little jealous that she hadn’t asked him.

༄

Delyth raised her eyes from her breakfast for the first time since sitting down, for all that most of it remained in her bowl, untouched. Her brows furrowed for a moment, but she nodded and rose to her feet, leaving the still-full bowl on the ground. “Alright then.” The warrior stood, unable to shake a blood-deep weariness from her body, and moved to aid Meirin

The clanswoman yankedup the stakes in sharp movements before coiling and re-coiling the rope about her hands. It was almost as if she were nervous, though Delyth did not recall seeing that emotion in her before.

“I’m going to take the artifact and become Aryus’s Vassal. We’re wasting time being chased around by Mascen, and I can’t stand to watch another person die while I am unable to do anything to stop him.”

Her dark eyes were unwavering, but something about the way she spoke reminded Delyth of herself in the days before she had met Alphonse and Enyo. She had spoken that way to Swordbearer Rhys, half confident, half seeking for approval. After a moment, Meirin went on.

“Will you tell Tanwen and my clan what happened?” The unspoken statement hovered between them, but Delyth understood what the other woman was asking. She needed to know that someone would tell the Mynydd Gwyllt what happened to Meirin, should she die in her role as Vassal.

The warrior met Meirin’s gaze for a long, steady moment, her pale blue eyes unblinking. She felt suddenly that she had not been fair to the younger warrior, that she had been too harsh in their disagreements in the past. No coward, no ordinary fighter, could stand here and vow to do something so beyond dangerous.

Part of Delyth wanted to stop her, to save her from the fate that had befallen Alphonse. Only, to say, in the face of this bravery, that she did not think Meirin should put herself at risk after Delyth had already tried to do as much… No, she would not insult the clanswoman. It would be too much like questioning her ability to see it through. Instead, Delyth simply nodded. “I swear it.” Then, as the wind around them whipped her braids about her face, she held out a hand to grip Meirin’s arm, half to seal the promise and half to acknowledge her courage. Meirin’s grip on Delyth’s arm was firm, though her palms were wet and cold. She was afraid. But she was going to do this anyway.

“Enyo.” Meirin turned to face the Goddess, her spine pine-straight. “Give me the artifact. I’ll be Aryus’s Vassal.”

Enyo, who had been braiding Va'al’s hair back affectionately, looked startled. “You?” She seemed to consider the idea and then shrugged as if she didn’t care all that much who Aryus inhabited. “Very well.”

✶

“What?” Etienne was standing without having any memory of getting there, his eyes wide and his hands trembling at his sides. “Meirin, you can’t—”

She didn’t answer him, her eyes focused on Va'al lifting the horn from his bags where it had been stored since they regrouped the previous evening. The wind was working itself into a frenzy, tearing at her braids as if it had a mind to unravel them. Delyth, unreadable as she ever had been, stepped past the clanswoman to stand beside him.

“Is this why she spoke to you?” he demanded, his voice climbing higher even as the sky above them