Page 88 of Vows of Sacrifice

“Close your eyes and tell me what you feel,” Paivrin invited me.

“A vibrant warmth, as if my whole body were quivering from within,” I replied in a whisper, my eyes closed.

I let myself be overcome by the sensation. It was as if I were quickly growing accustomed to this strange fire capable of raising my own temperature—I could feel it. I could have undressed without suffering from the ambient cold.

“You see, Dovah, her magic is there, very much there!” Paivrin then exclaimed excitedly to his brother. “I was right!”

My husband grumbled a response that made Paivrin laugh.

“You like archery, don’t you, Lady Ashana? Or may I just call you Ashana?”

“Yes.”

Since this was an answer that could apply to both questions, I hastened to clarify:

“And you can call me by my first name without using a title, because after all, we are now part of the same family.”

Not to mention the fact that he was a creator god at the origin of the world, and I could hardly see myself refusing him this favour. Paivrin, visibly delighted, nodded.

“Now, imagine you’re holding a bow made of fire, and arrows also made of flame as well,” he continues. “Picture them in your mind and imbue them with your will.”

I did as best I could.

“Try again,” he encouraged me.

“Maybe . . .” Dovah tried to intervene.

“No,” his brother cut him off curtly. “Go ahead, Ashana. You’re almost there!”

I reiterated. I imagined the most beautiful bow I’d ever seen, a bow that only I could handle. It was the colour of the flames that sometimes danced in Dovah’s eyes, and it crackled between my fingers without hurting me. With my free hand, I conjured up an arrow, also made of fire.

“Ashana!” Dovah exclaimed.

From the inflection of his voice, I could tell he was impressed, but also surprised. First, I heard the crackling. Then, with my heart beating far too fast, I slowly opened my eyes. My body began to tremble with shock. I was holding a bow of fire, ready to shoot a flaming arrow.

“What am I . . . What am I doing?” I stammered, not daring to bat an eyelash.

Magic. I was using magic, or witchcraft. I didn’t quite know the difference.

“Shoot!” encouraged Dovah, suddenly much more enthusiastic.

“Don’t shoot!” Paivrin ordered me at the same time, in a panic.

Not knowing what decision to make, my reflex was to release the arrow, which flew directly towards . . . a complete stranger. The stranger remained unfazed and, with a wave of his hand, he extinguished my arrow, causing a spray of water to appear. He was very tall, blond, and wore round glasses.

“Are you all having fun?” inquired the stranger irritably.

Dovah clicked his tongue loudly against the roof of his mouth, and it seemed as if he was disappointed that my arrow hadn’t hit the mark.

Kynnen appeared in turn from behind the bespectacled blond man, scratching his head in a sheepish gesture.

“He wanted to see Dovah’s wife for himself,” he explained.

“And so you let him come,” retorted the interested party coldly.

Kynnen gave him a puppy dog look.

“He insisted. A lot. He’s the strongest of us, what do you want me to do?”

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