Page 10 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“What happened?” My voice is small, but I see Jayne smile slightly and nod her head in approval out of the corner of my eye. My breathing has calmed and my heart is starting to settle as I focus on Grayson.

“It blew up the goat.”

“You said it didn’t explode,” Jayne points out, and he sighs before conceding with a nod.

“No, it didn’t. It blew it up, literally. It grew.” Silence follows his words again before the room is filled with Jayne’s bellowing laugh. A hint of a blush colours his cheeks, but he smiles ruefully as he watches the older woman collapse into a chair with laughter.

“You made a giant goat?” I query, trying to push away my own amusement but the corners of my lips twitch up.

“Yes. Bloody thing ran off into the forest, never saw it again,” the magician mutters as he reclines in his seat, a smile toying at the edge of his lips.

A strange feeling bubbles up inside until a barking laugh overtakes me. Throwing my hands over my mouth, I look at the magician in shock. There haven’t been many opportunities to laugh in my life, and I don’t remember much before I was a slave. Grayson chuckles at my shocked expression, and before I know it, I’m laughing again. Not the loud, braying laugh of Jayne, but a shocked, joyful giggle.

After a moment, Jayne pushes up from her chair and walks over to me, gently steering me to the seat she just vacated, still chuckling and muttering something about a goat under her breath. Sitting on the edge of the seat, I shuffle around awkwardly, unused to sitting on cushions. An unsettling feeling runs through my veins.

“Feeling better?” Grayson asks, and I know he’s not inquiring about the seat. Stilling in the chair, I look up at him appraisingly as I decide how to answer him. Just looking at him like this should lead to a punishment, but he simply leans back in his chair, his eyes steady on me. Perhaps it’s the stress and trauma of the day, but I decide to ask him a question.

“Why did you tell me that story?”

He hides his surprised look quickly, but I can tell he didn’t expect me to answer him, and certainly not with a question ofmy own. “I scared you. I shouldn’t have left the chains out. You needed something else to focus on.”

“Why the goat story?” He’s right, I was panicking, all thought and reason had fled my mind. He could have told me anything, but he deliberately chose something that would cause him embarrassment.

“I wanted to see you smile.” I ignore the uncomfortable emotion that his words stir in me and change the subject.

“Why am I here? What’s going to happen to me?”

Jayne makes a noise of exclamation as she bustles back into the room with a tray of drinks, placing them down on the table before me. “Grayson, have you not explained anything to the poor girl yet?”

“I’m getting there!” he exclaims, and I can’t help but wonder what the relationship between them is. She’s a maid, so she can’t be his mother, but she acts so familiar around him it’s like they’re family. “Do you know anything about magician’s visions?” he questions, pulling my attention back to him.

I’ve heard mentions of them, the whispers of slaves, but it’s only ever been hearsay. Shaking my head, he nods once in acknowledgement before continuing, “The visions are sent to us by the Great Mother. Most of us will go our whole lives without receiving a vision. These visions always hold truth and come to be, but they are not always clear in their message. We have magicians who have dedicated their lives to trying to understand and interpret these visions.” He pauses to check that I’m keeping up with him so far and I nod, accepting the glass of water Jayne shoves into my hand. “I have been lucky enough to receive three visions.” Leaning forward, he receives a glass of steaming dark liquid from the maid before adding cream and sugar to it. A bittersweet smell greets me, and I find my mouth watering as I watch him stir it. “I don’t suppose you’ve had coffee before?”

Busted. Flicking my eyes from the cup to Grayson, I see that he caught me looking, but he doesn’t sound angry, in fact, he sounds curious. When I shake my head, he gestures for Jayne to pour another cup.

“I didn’t think you’d like it. Horrible, bitter stuff,” she comments, but does as instructed, filling a cup with the dark liquid and gesturing to the cream and sugar. Shuffling forward, I copy what Grayson did, adding a splash of cream and sugar before sitting back in the chair, looking up at the magician expectantly.

“Can you tell me more about the visions?” I inquire, holding the warm cup close. This simple beverage, a luxury I’ve never been given before, fills me with a strength I didn’t know I had.

“They are sacred and illegal. Those who ignore visions don’t tend to live very long thereafter.” I think over his words, tentatively bringing the cup to my lips. My mouth bursts with flavour as I sip the liquid and force myself not to pull a face. Jayne was right, it is bitter, but the cream and sugar soon follow through and I find myself taking another sip. Grayson watches me with a blank expression as I drink, and I slowly lower my cup, meeting his gaze.

“I was in one of these visions?” He’s already said as much, but I need to hear it again. Why would I, a slave girl who has nothing, not even her name, be in a sacred vision?

“Yes.” He’s shut down again, the embarrassed young man telling me a story about blowing up a goat replaced by a shrewd magician. But I’ve seen that part of him now, and I know he doesn’t mean me harm. I’m purely a puzzle he can’t work out.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I couldn’t let you die today.” I flinch at the simplicity of his words. He didn’t save me because it was the right thing to do, he saved me because hissacred visiontold him to. I must never forget that he doesn’t care about my welfare, nomatter how well he pretends to. Seeing my reaction, he sighs and uses his free hand to scrub at his face, his whole body softening. “There’s something bigger than us at play here. You’re important to the outcome of the war, I just don’t know how or what that outcome will be.”

“Are you saying that I could be the reason we lose?” Sitting forward, I frown as I wait for his response. How could I have anything to do with the outcome of the war?

“I’m saying that we don’t know. But youareimportant to the Mother, you have her symbol on your body, after all. I get the feeling she’s been looking over you for a very long time.” His voice softens again, and I feel his gaze on my body as if he can see straight through my clothing to the mark he claims is on my skin.

“Wait. Her symbol?” That’s not possible. I would have noticed if I carried the Mother’s symbol. Wouldn’t I?

Nodding, he gestures over my shoulder and I frown as he responds, “Yes, just below your brand.”

“My birthmark?” At the small of my back I have a very dark mark that I’ve had all my life. It’s in the shape of a smudged crescent moon with two dark moles on either side of it. I guess if you squinted then it could look a little like the Mother’s symbol. Her full symbol is covered with elaborate swirls, the crescent moon bordered by two stars.

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