“I see no reason to let the mortal out, even if she was your plaything Ba’oto. You had your pleasures. You’ll find another. I can’t think of a single thing I’d want in exchange. I have all that I could possibly desire…” She slid her eyes back to the stars. Fox-sly.
“What about my blood?” Delyth asked immediately, holding out a hand. “Or Calamity, returned to you tonight?”
She ground her teeth, thinking. What else did Enyo like?
Nature? Sex?
Was she willing to do that now, break the one line she had refused to cross? She had nothing but her beliefs. What would it mean to lose them too?
Enyo didn’t seem interested in either of her other suggestions.
Tristan had been watching this play out from across the fire, his cunning face cut into jagged angles by the flickering light. Now he spoke up, voice velvety and warm.
“You could promise the rest of your life in service to Enyo as well. After all, you are a priestess. And useful, for all your sentimentality.”
Delyth swallowed. She saw again the beautiful future she had painted for Alphonse the first night they’d come together. The two of them in Dailion. A simple life. Gentle and uncomplicated.
If she failed to free Alphonse, it would be gone from reach anyway.
Slowly, she found herself nodding.
“In exchange for this one last night, I will serve you after you reach your full power for the remainder of my life.”
Perhaps Enyo could see how high this price was because she smiled wickedly. “A lifetime for one night? I’d be a fool to say no. Very well, Ba’oto.” Enyo stood, circling round the fire to place one hand on Delyth’s sternum, the other on the crown of the priestess’s head.
“You have a bargain.”
A deafening crack of thunder burst through the peaceful night air, despite clear skies. As the echoing reverberated off the mountainsides, an intense weight, invisible and dark, pressed down on the priestess, pinning her to the ground.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the pressure was gone.
So was Enyo.
❀
Alphonse yanked her hands away from Delyth, afraid she’d been hurting the warrior.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Delyth,” Alphonse murmured, glancing towards Tristan, who was watching, wolf-eyed and eager.
One night with Alphonse was not worth a lifetime tied to a madwoman.
Worse. A mad Goddess.
Delyth rose and cupped Alphonse’s cheek in one hand, her eyes on Alphonse’s amber ones. “All will be well, little bird,” she said, her voice gentle. “Come inside with me?”
Alphonse looked up at the moon, just a sliver and hanging above the peaks of the mountain. Would this be the last time she saw such a beautiful sight with her own eyes? Her own thoughts? Untainted by Enyo’s bloodthirsty effect?
It seemed likely.
Alphonse hesitated, watching the moon longingly. How calm and peaceful she looked up there in the sky. Eons away from this mess.
Finally, the healer turned and followed Delyth into the tent. Their tent. Perhaps she should be grateful for a final night with her paramour. Perhaps she should be joyful.
All she felt was tired.
It was already over; they just didn’t know it yet.
Delyth paused only to ward their tent against all intrusions, be they physical or eavesdropping ears. Then she entered and sat cross-legged on the floor. It was set up in two pallets again, in the case that it would have been Enyo sleeping there rather than Alphonse.
Once Alphonse was seated, Delyth didn’t mince words. “I know of your plan with Etienne.”
Alphonse didn’t even bother to wince. So her last secret was out. It didn’t matter now— not since Etienne left. He knew the plan had already failed. There was nothing left to stay for.
“You don’t have to worry. I won’t fight Enyo. Your Goddess is safe. It was a foolish plan, anyway. I trusted Etienne with it all. I—I can’t do that type of magic. I’m not powerful or talented… ”
Alphonse spread her hands over her knees, feeling the snags and knots in the tightly woven brown skirts. Sensible clothes she had always loved and tended to with pride.
She supposed Enyo would dress in furs and pelts and little else once she was in full control, baring Alphonse’s body to the world.
Delyth flinched, shutting her eyes tight against the words. “Alphonse…” she said, “I’m no Etienne either, but I want to help you. I— I don’t want to see you lost.”
The healer frowned, trying to smooth some of the wrinkles out of her skirt. It clearly had been slept in the night before. “I would never ask you to choose between your faith and me.” Who could ask that of someone they loved? Delyth had been raised by the temple by the priests and priestesses. She was as much a child of Enyo as she was anything else.
Alphonse had struggled with that fact, but finally, come to accept it.
Delyth was who she was, and her loyalty was one of the traits Alphonse admired most. Swallowing, Alphonse finally looked up from her ruined clothes. It didn’t matter anyway. “I’m very sorry I lied to you, Del. I just… I don’t worship Enyo. I don’t— I can’t—” It didn’t matter anymore. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to… But she was stuck with Enyo now. Forever. Always.
She wished she could cry. Then maybe she’d feel better.
But Etienne’s leaving had finally snapped that part of Alphonse. The part that cared enough to weep. To hope.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Delyth reached out and put her hands over the healer’s. “Alphonse, I served Enyo out of duty to the people who raised me. She was nothing but a concept, intangible, unreal. When I met her, she was nothing like the just Goddess my people worshipped. I have seen her with my own eyes. I know what she is and what she is not, and it is my right to decide whether or not to believe as my people do.” She looked up from Alphonse’s hands, meeting the healer’s gaze. “I’ve already made my choice.”
Something tentative and foreign stirred in her chest. Alphonse looked into
