Page 9 of The Devil In Blue
I was in shock.
The woman’s cold, long fingers brushed over the top of mine, sliding it away from Lucien’s arm.
“Come, sweet,” she said, leading me away from him.
There was a slight sense of panic deep down in my chest when I realized I was being led away from Lucien. Though I was eager to enjoy the festivities, I never did anything outside of the manor without his company. Being around so many others without the anchor of his presence was a bit jolting. The woman took my hand and squeezed tight. Perhaps because she sensed I was anxious or perhaps she did not want me to go back to him. Either way, it grounded me, despite that she was a stranger.
“I must say, your gown is exquisite,” she spoke as we strolled along the outside of the dance floor.
“Thank you.”
“Are you enjoying yourself? I understand that Allhalloween is not as celebrated here as it is in other places.”
“I have not yet had a chance to explore the place entirely. But you are right. Allhalloween is a bit of a whispered holiday.”
“Yes. I’ve visited your cathedral. It is a dreary place. Your days of worship must be quite depressing.”
I wanted to tell her that I did not attend worship, but I wasn’t fond of talking about myself. So instead, I chose to talk about her.
“So you are not from Cragborough?”
“Oh, no. I am from a much more vibrant place. Perhaps it is why I do not wear color,” she chuckled. “So much of it back home hurts my eyes.”
“And do you have a place for religion where you are from?”
“In a way. We pray to something much different than your magnificent angel. What is his name?”
“You’re talking about Phariel?”
“Yes, Phariel.” She said the name like it was a bit of a joke and sighed, hooking her arm in mine. “Well, we do not pray to an angel. We serve Rune of the Glyn.”
Thatname she said with confidence and pride.
“I do not know the name.” Though I felt as if the syllable was familiar to my tongue.
“Not many do, sweet. Not after the war. Perhaps you’ve heard his name differently. Merikoth? The Devil in Blue? He goes by so many.”
Chills rolled down my spine and I didn’t know why. Catlyn had smuggled small bundles of books into the manor past Lucien’s attention many times. One of them was a thin book of old myths and one of those myths was calledThe Devil in Blue. It told of a cruel god who commanded both death and life with childlike carelessness. I swallowed, recalling the way the book illustrated his shadowy domain like it was the hell Phariel warned his followers about.
“Youhaveheard the name,” the woman said, a wide smile slowly spreading across her lips. Looking at it, I almost thought it looked too big and unnatural on her face. “Do not fear. I believe that deep down, none of us truly believe our gods and angels exist. They remain a crutch we lean on when we cannot stand on our own. A concept we look to so we can discover our own advice.”
Her philosophy brought me back and I blinked with surprise. To say such things in Cragborough was sacrilege and those guilty of having such free thoughts were met with ostracization or worse.
“Do not fret,” the woman said. “The music and the strength of the wine combined keep prying ears far from our conversation.” She paused, pulling me closer. “You seem nervous.”
“Perhaps I am. It is not often I get to have conversations at all.” I turned to look at her. “Can I ask your name?”
“You may ask me anything you’d like. My name is Naevys. Naeve to most. And yours?”
“Briar.”
I was about to ask something else when we came to a wall where Naevys stopped us both to look at a giant, gold-framed painting that looked to have been hung for the event. On it was a depiction of a ghostly white woman with mist for hair and robes made of white smoke. In her hands was a lantern emitting bright bluish light across half the canvas. On the other half was a sea of shadows and among them was a darker cloaked figure with his hand outstretched. But his hand was cut in half by the barrier of light between them.
Something about it was horribly tragic and ominous, but I could not stop looking at it.
“The Death of Love,” Naeve said. “A story where I’m from.”
My heart hurt at those words. “What is the story?”
