Page 23 of Of Blooming Embers
I dipped my chin, trying to hold in a laugh, but the swish of a stifled snort escaped regardless. I peeked up at the sound of amusement coming from the woman. One eyebrow rose as she studied me unabashedly.
Positioned beside me, Gavrel bowed his head respectfully toward her. “Mistress Neoma Skiya, I presume? I’m Gavrel Larkin, and this is Seryn Vawn.” He held his hand toward me. “Rhaegar Hale sent word for us to find you.”
Slowly, she blinked at him, her elbows still poking the air.
His nostrils flared, and his mouth pinched. Resigned, he rolled his shoulders back and frowned as Marek faced us, his tanned skin ruddy and clean. A mask of smug boredom coated his handsome visage, his biceps bulging as he crossed his arms expectantly.
Several seconds slinked by, the only sounds in the still room were of the popping logs and sodden fabric squelching as I shifted. Finally, the men’s standoff ceased.
“I apologize for using the term ‘bogger.’ It was ill-mannered of me. It won’t happen again,” Gavrel conceded. Marek nodded in response and sat at the oval table in the kitchen, propping his long, muscled legs atop the antique-looking chair beside him and leaning back, satisfied.
“You’re damn right it won’t. And it’s Yaya,” the woman snapped, stomping over to the chest by the bed and pulling out various pieces of dusky fabric. “Now, take off your boots and put your weapons by Marek’s.” Swiftly, she marched over to Gavrel, and in a flurry of movements, she removed his baldric and lowered his sword to the ground with ease. Stunned, his mouth hung agape.
From under her arm, she shoved clean clothing at him and then charged at me. She clucked her tongue and cuffed me on the arm when I took a hesitant step back. Eyes wide, I froze as she went through the same process, tossing my belt and rucksack into the pile.
She chucked fresh clothes at me and then went to the kitchen, placing a kettle on top of the stove. “Change behind the screen, and then come sit. We’ve much to discuss, and it won’t do for you to track muck everywhere like a bunch of peat snails.”
She moved with confidence and authority as if she were accustomed to being heeded. The mud coating my socks glued me to her floorboards.
Can I bottle whatever runs through her veins? Sweet Surrelia, the woman is a raging inferno. Of battle fever incarnate. Is she Athena, the Ancient of War, in disguise?I mused.
With a clink, she set some cups on the table, casting me a stern look from beneath her lashes.
“Yes, Yaya,” I mumbled.
I scurried to the screen as Gavrel, in a fresh black tunic and breeches, hastily pulled out the chair that Marek’s feet were on. The Druik scowled as his legs dropped and Gavrel’s bulky form took their place.
While Yaya poured steaming brew into our cups, her expression pinched. In unison, Marek and Gavrel cleared their throats.
Whether from the earth or the mire, I supposed we could understand one another if we put aside our differences. Leaned into what tied us together.
In the city of Helos.
In this tree.
This home.
What tied us together was a healthy fear of Yaya.
No further introductions needed.
9
VEILS AND MASKS
GAVREL
The bitter tea swirled down my throat, warming me. Neoma leaned back in her chair, her weathered hand cupping her firm but delicate jawline as she studied us. Seryn boldly met the older woman’s scrutiny, tucking away any lingering diffidence.
Quelling the urge to gather Seryn to me, I gripped my knees. She was an indestructible force. She didn’t believe it now, but she would. I’d make sure of it.
I set my cup down, focusing on the older woman. She was something, I’d give her that. Not someone I’d cross intentionally.
Neoma’s brow quirked, one corner of her mouth following suit. “The Augur mentioned you were both gifted your memories, and that you’d need guidance.” Her eyes ricocheted between us. I frowned, glancing at Seryn as her chin dipped.
The ability to remember wasn’t always a gift.
Neoma dropped her hand to the tabletop, bringing our attention back to her. “She told me you each had a part to play—your journey was written in the stars.”
