The room started to murmur with whispers and people shifting in their seats. The announcement was being taken favorably. Good. In fact, Tanwen saw a few young, brash men starting to stand in their spots, ready to let blood. She hurried on. “Meirin of Mynydd Gwyllt has agreed. She will be the spear of justice for our clan, and she will aid Priestess Delyth and Etienne in hunting down Enyo. In stopping her from hurting any other clans as she hurt us. For this, we honor Meirin.”
As a group, the clanspeople clapped their fists above their hearts—a symbol of respect and pride.
Meirin hadn’t risen, not much of a showman, but nodded with a tight smile.
“I know many of our brave warriors would want to go and join the hunt, but I cannot allow this. We need patrols; we need hands in the fields. First and foremost, we must keep Mynydd Gwyllt safe from any outside dangers!” She could see the crowd nodding along, faces pulled in solemn contemplation. The fires, which were burning hot, were now dying down again, her people happy that some justice would be measured out.
The knot in her chest loosened when Niclas caught her eye. She had to say it. She had to be the War Chief. “Thank you, Priestess Delyth and Friend Etienne.” She nearly choked on the words. “May your journey be swift and victorious.”
And then, before she could vomit, Tanwen strode for the door. She’d lead Delyth to the armory, and then the bitch would be gone. Finally. And her clan could get back to normal. That was all Tanwen wanted.
༄
Delyth stood to follow Tanwen, keeping her face impassive for all that her stomach churned. These people might believe their War Chief’s words, but she knew how little the redhead actually meant that blessing.
When Etienne moved to stand, Delyth placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. He needed to finish his meal. They wouldn’t get food like this on the road. Might not even be able to stop for supplies for a long while. And it wasn’t as if he knew how to pick out a weapon. She would get him something serviceableso that he might have some hope of protecting himself in the coming moons.
Tanwen’s shoulders were tense on the way to the armory, so Delyth kept quiet. Yesterday’s fire had burnt low in her belly, leaving her tired and aching. She didn’t feel up to a verbal sparring match just then.
Tanwen hauled open the heavy wooden door to the armory and stepped aside. The walls were lined with spears, shields, clubs, axes, bows and arrows, daggers, staffs, and—of course—swords. Of various lengths, weights, and curves.
Mynydd Gwyllt was shored up like an army—not that it had helped them against Enyo’s attack.
The redhead moved to lean against the wall, watching Delyth test several weapons before speaking. “You said that girl was your lover? The one Enyo is using?”
Delyth reached up to test the feel of a bastard sword, similar in length and shape to Calamity. For a second, she flinched, half expecting the bite of anger to taint her mind, only nothing happened. It was just a sword. Just metal and leather. Nothing malicious.
Her lover. It sounded cheap, in a way. Alphonse was right. The word wasn’t quite big enough.
“Yes,” Delyth said simply, drawing the sword. The balance was good; the steel rippled along its length. The Mynydd Gwyllt had always done well when it came to weapons. The dagger at her waist was proof enough, and she wondered if Tanwen had noticed that she still carried it. Would she care?
The sword slid back into its sheath with a snick before Delyth belted it on, the weight familiar between her wings. It felt right, somehow, to be armed again. As though she had been bare without a blade to clothe her.
“She looked very… small,” Tanwen murmured, eyes glued to Delyth’s back as the warrior moved to the wall of staves, estimating Etienne’s height and determining the right length for him.
Delyth tucked a decent staff under her arm and turned to look for a dagger. How the boy had managed for so long without a good one was beyond her.
“She is small,” she said, “And soft. Gentle. What of it, Tanwen?”
She took a breath, trying to keep her mind on the task. He wouldn’t need anything particularly fancy or even particularly deadly. Functional was best. It wasn’t like she’d have time to teach him knife fighting.
No, the staff would be his safest bet. It didn’t take much time to master a few basic moves, and that would be more than enough against bandits and the like.
As for the Gods…
Well, hopefully, he would have his magic back by then.
“Small and gentle wasn’t your type. I was just… Surprised to learn she was your lover… I mean…”
Because Delyth was tall and muscled? Because she was a warrior?
Because she was a monster?
Delyth finally turned to Tanwen, weapons in hand, and took three quick steps to close the distance between them. She caught the clan leader by surprise, just like she’d intended to, the woman stepping back, eyes wide beneath a swath of red hair.
“She is small and gentle and has never once raised a hand in violence,” Delyth
