Page 35 of Between Soul and Vessel
Both of them had suffered at the hands of the empress, and no one was willing to do anything about it. They all just turned a blind eye.
But I wouldn’t.
I would do something.
I didn’t know what or how or when.
But the one thing I’d come to realize the second I left Sage’s cell—she was going to help me achieve my goal. I couldn’t explain it, but it was a feeling, deep down in my gut, and I was going to lean into it.
Which meant I needed to figure out how I was going to buy her more time when she was scheduled to die this Saturday. Mentally, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work—
I walked up to a trio of goddesses standing around a tall table.
One of them was Mercia, a tired-looking parrot perched on her shoulder. She clasped her hands together, laughing as the goddess across from her, Oraina, told her ridiculous tale about the time she’d ended up stuck in a giant spiderweb—one I had heard many times. Eirwen stood between them, a drink in her manicured hand. She was the Goddess of Winter, her stark black hair as dark as night, her bright-red lips a nod to February, and her skin a snowy-white, like the month of January. She just happened to be one of the goddesses who had gasped during the council meeting earlier that week, when Sage had been brought into the room.
I wanted to find out what she knew, but I was going to have to do it carefully. Otherwise, I might risk arousing suspicion.
“Mind if I join?” I asked, my tone sweeter than sugar.
“Of course, Avriel dear,” Oraina replied, waving me in.
“Want some?” Mercia asked, picking up the wine jug from the table, swishing it from side to side in invitation.
“I have a bit of a headache today,” I lied. “I’ll stick with water tonight.”
“Understandable,” she said, lowering the jug, and then waved over a servant who carried a tray full of goblets. “Are any of these just water?” she asked the servant.
“This one is,” the meek female replied, pinching the stem of a gold-rimmed goblet and giving it to her.
“Wonderful,” Mercia replied, long, elegant fingers clasping it. She turned my way and handed me the goblet. “Here you are.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting it, the stem cool against my fingers.
The servant bowed and then swiftly returned to where she had been standing before.
“That was quite some fight earlier, wasn’t it?” I started, hoping to ease into things.
“Was it ever,” Mercia agreed. “Talk about muscles!” She shimmied her shoulders, stirring the parrot from its dozing state.
The parrot popped its head up and exclaimed, “Muscles, muscles, muscles! Talk about muscles!”
Mercia chuckled as she petted the colorful bird, stroking her beautiful feathers.
I took a small sip from my goblet, swallowed the cool water, and said, “Will any of you be attending the games on Saturday?”
“If it was here, then I would, but I couldn’t care less togo to Lorphiah. The amphitheaters there are so horribly old—full of dust and cockroaches.” Oraina grimaced. “No thank you.”
“Agreed. They really need to tear them down and rebuild,” Mercia added on. “I don’t know why they haven’t yet.”
Oraina concurred, “I don’t know why either.”
I looked at Eirwen. “What about you? Will you be going?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she answered, giving me nothing more.
Even though no one asked, I still said, “I’ll probably go. It’s Nockrythiam’smate, after all. It seems like a pretty monumental soul to be crushed. History in the making and all that.”
“I just hope crushing her soul doesn’t come around to bite us all in the ass,” Oraina stated with a degree of concern as she drained the remnants of the jug into her goblet, filling it to the brim.
