Even as she looked at him, Etienne pulled himself up taller, filling his chest with a too-big breath. She had an inkling of what was coming, but not enough to prepare herself. “Delyth,” he started, face set in determined lines, “Your new… aggressive attitude is jeopardizing our goal. I know this hurts, but you can't just turn and attack those around you like some—some wounded animal. Not if Allee is the one who’s going to pay for it.”
Delyth flinched. Animal. Monster.
She could do better than this. She had thought herself better than this.
Etienne was bracing himself as though he half expected her to lash out at him. She’d spent enough time doing just that lately. Now, all she could think about was Alphonse’s letter. How she had regretted not telling Etienne how much she cared.
For a long moment, Delyth looked up at the ceiling above them, mastering herself. Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the pale Ingolan mage. He flinched at first, caught by surprise. Then, finally, awkwardly hugged her back.
“I’ll take care of it,” Delyth told him, stepping away. Her old armor was up around her face. Calm and steady. “I’ll talk to her. If she’ll listen.”
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
Delyth hadn’t needed any direction when Niclas told her Tanwen would be at her father’s grave. She remembered the place. A hill dotted with the headstones of fallen chiefs painted in soft pastels with the first light of morning. It was still beautiful in its solemn, time-crumbled way. Delyth supposed it always would be. No matter what went on in the lives of those who saw it.
She landed behind Tanwen, several feet away from the newest stone marker. Delyth didn’t have to read it to know who was buried there.
“How long has it been?” she asked, keeping her tone as bland as possible, though her throat was made of stones.
The War Chief’s shoulder tightened as if preparing for a fight. But in a moment, she gushed out a breath of air and brushed her hand over the top of the large stone with reverence. “Two years,” she murmured, and while her tone wasn’t inviting, at least it wasn’t openly hostile. That had to count for something.
When Tanwen looked at Delyth, it was clear she had been crying recently, the kohl around her eyes smeared. She studied Delyth’s wings and the set of her jaw and then shrugged in dismissal.
They would not fight at her father’s graveside, it seemed.
“I can’t help you, Del. Your Goddess beat us down without trying. She wasn’t even out of breath.”
“I’m not asking you to fight her. We’ll do it for you. I just need a sword and provisions.”
Delyth swallowed, remembering Tanwen’s comment about just what would happen if she gave the halfbreed a sword. She supposed that's what the redhead had been telling herself all these years. That she had left because Delyth was dangerous.
Well, maybe she was, but not to simple clan girls.
“If everything goes well, you’ll not hear from Enyo or me again. Unless it is to return your missing warrior.”
The sigh that escaped Tanwen sounded much older than she was. She rubbed at her bruised jaw while she stared at her father’s grave and finally looked away.
“I’ll make a decision this afternoon. Can you wait that long? At the very least, you and your skinny friend would get another two meals. You look like you could use them.” A mild insult and a small smile on her lips.
She always had enjoyed arguing.
Delyth snorted and looked down at herself. She did look a bit rangy these days. Lean and sharp like some ill-fed hound. Well, the sort of things she’d been through would do that to a person.“We cannot afford to wait any longer than that. Every moment we waste here, Enyo draws father away.” Every moment wasted was another with Alphonse caged in her own mind.
Tanwen nodded in understanding. “You’ll have your decision come noontime. Now—Leave me to my father.” A dismissal, but at least she wasn’t spitting insults.
Delyth didn’t bother answering, just spread her wings and leaped into the sky, wheeling high and fast into the rising sun.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
Tanwen kept her gaze focused on her children as Niclas spoke. His tendency to invoke her sense of honor and duty had kept her on a straight course for years now. He wasn’t any fun bickering with as he never rose to her bait, and in truth, Tanwen had come to trust his insight. Even when it was against her own clamoring instincts.
She wanted to send Delyth and the boy away. Immediately. Without aid. But Niclas thought differently.
“The people will be angry if we just let Gethin go without a fight. Now, this opportunity has presented itself, perhaps ordained—” Tanwen scoffed, fed up with the Gods. He smiled in mild agreement and pushed on. “We risk very little and stand to profit. Not to mention, if more Old Gods are being summoned, who knows how the world will change? Are you willing to gamble the Clan’s safety that Maoz or the others would be less hostile and violent? What if they are all like Enyo?”
“Fine. Fine, Niclas, we’ll give them weapons and supplies and send them on their futile, doomed mission.” Tanwen stood, ready for this to be over.
“Tanwen. We should send a warrior, a sign of good faith and our commitment to fighting.”
She rounded on Niclas, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What?! And sacrifice another one of our people? That’s insane.”
“Ask for volunteers. Don’t order anyone, but if someone is willing to go…”
Tanwen’s fists clenched and unclenched. Of course, he was right. Her people had been restless and
