Page 1 of Of Sword & Silver

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KYRIE

Panels of rich plum fabric hang from the cottage’s stone walls. I arch an eyebrow at them, knowing full well they’re the standard color of the god of magic and his followers, but amused at their requisite appearance nonetheless.

Fragrant incense curls around my face and I try to sit still, clamping down on a sneeze that’s threatening. The seer’s gaze skewers mine, her voice low and mysterious as she makes her prognosis.

“You are going to die.”

“I bet you tell that to everyone.” I grin at her, a shiver skittering across my skin.

“I’m serious, Kyrie.” Lara frowns at me, throwing the sheer veil off her face and rubbing her hands together. Her dark brown hair falls in shining waves against her shoulders, perfectly framing her oval face and large, cat-like eyes.

My nose twitches like it’s ashamed of the endless freckles sprayed across it.

She raises dark eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer.

Sighing, I spread my hands wide.

“What do you want me to say? We’re all going to die. That’s how life ends.” Unless you’re a god. I don’t say that part out loud though, because we both know all too well how much the gods love to listen in.

“Can you be serious for once in your damned life? Something’s changed.” She peers at me, understanding dawning in her luminous brown eyes. “What in the name of Nakush did you steal?”

Ah yes, in the name of Nakush. I bite my tongue to keep from saying something awful about Nakush, Lara’s patron god, the god of magic and the unknown.

They’re supposed to be much kinder to their followers than my goddess, but that doesn’t mean I like them any better.

Still… I don’t dare even think my goddess’s name right now. I stretch my legs out underneath the table, my fur-lined boots scuffing the wood floors.

Lara makes an impatient sound.

Fine.

“A chalice,” I finally answer, meeting her eyes. The wood burning in the hearth pops and I jump at the sound.

“A chalice,” she repeats, that same far-off stare returning.

A little sigh sings out of me despite myself. Lara is the real deal, unlike most who call themselves mages. She has power, real power, something rarer every day. Still—the song and dance gets tired fast.

Especially when she’s just pronounced my death sentence.

“A cup,” I clarify, trying to speed things along. “Pretty plain. Some kind of metal.”

I leave out the fact I stole it from one of the fucking death god’s followers, which I have a feeling was my first big mistake.

Still—I didn’t expect him to be packing that kind of power.

“Did you drink from the ever-full chalice?” Her voice drops a register, and this time, there’s no stopping the chill that sends goosebumps pebbling across my skin.

“I was thirsty.” Despite my attempt at bravado, my voice sounds petulant and thin, even to me. “Stealing is hard work. It looked delicious. Crisp, you know? Refreshing. And…” I drawl, “it was full.”

Lara raises a shaking hand, looking past me, through me, and it’s fucking disturbing. I swallow hard.

“That draught will change the course of the future.” Her voice drops an octave.

“Amazing. Is it the key to a life of riches and leisure?” I aim for unbothered, but the flippant question squeaks out of me.

Goddess, I hope Lara doesn’t tell anyone how scared I am.

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