Page 36 of Witchlight
Caden did not look up. His Threads were fully concentrated on the map. Gretchya, however, did. She blinked at her daughter, her eyes nearly orange in the firelight. And she nodded once, knowing. Or perhaps there was something else, something almost sad, almost frightened.
But something that her Threadwitch training still couldn’t let free.
Iseult twisted away. “I w-will find you and my mother again in Saldonica,” she promised Alma. A simple good-bye before she left the tent. Left the tribe.
The night and its moon whispered a Nomatsi good-bye as Iseult found the pack Alma had left beneath furry branches. It was a proper Nomatsi pack, with structural rods meant to be hefted onto the back or alternatively reshaped across a horse.
Alma had added a Nomatsi shield too, a wooden square meant to protect one’s body when on the run.
Iseult’s lungs compressed, pushing air from her chest as she hefted the pack onto her shoulders. Snowflakes fell anew, tender things. Hesitant even, as if they weren’t sure the world was ready for them.
Iseult wasn’t sure either, but she set off into the night anyway. Cold embraced her. Snow swallowed her footsteps.
SEVENTEEN
Safi knew she needed to finish packing. She’d gotten the map; she’d handled her Hell-Bard captain; all that was left was to gather her travel clothes for the night’s departure. And eat—she should probably eat.
However, all Safi wasactuallyable to do was to stagger through the lodge toward her bedroom. Tears over Caden had accumulated in her skull. And worse, always worse, the Cahr Awen were being noisy.
Relentlessly noisy, but in an incoherent way that resulted from a hundred souls mashing together with no single language and no real grasp on reality. It was like having a beehive for a skull. They buzzed, they droned, they never wanted to sleep.
Tonight, they were especially rattled.Do somethingseemed to be their message—but that was as much clarity as Safi could glean from them.
And gods below, her head hurt. All she wanted to do was curl onto her bed with her velvet band across her eyes. Surely the souls would quiet eventually, and maybe, if she was lucky, she could get a few hours of sleep after that.
Unfortunately, Safi didn’t reach her door before Monk Evrane cornered her.So close,Safi thought, gazing at her nearby square of Hell-Bards.
“Excuse me,” Evrane said, holding a satchel the size of two fists. “I have a healer’s kit here that Iseult requested. But she is not in her quarters. Perhaps I can give it to you?”
“Of course,” Safi forced out.Be polite. Don’t cringe.“That’s very helpful of you, Monk Evrane. Thank you.” She tried to move past.
But the monk cut into her path. “I thought perhaps Iseult was injured, but now I suspectyouare the one who is actually hurting.” Then she quickly added, “Your Imperial Majesty.”
Evrane was a woman accustomed to titles and royalty, and as such, she hadn’t once tried to cross the barriers of Safi’s crown since joining them. A wall had come up around Safi that only Uncle Eron and Caden seemed comfortable enough to cross. And Iseult, of course.
Although, to be fair, Safididavoid Evrane as often as she could, giving the woman no opportunities to even pass within her imperial cage. Safi’s brain hurt all the time. She didn’t want Evrane nagging her precisely as she was doing now.
Liar,her magic nudged.You know that is not why you avoid her.
“No pain,” Safi lied, “I am fine.” Her voice didn’t sound convincing—and Evrane clearly didn’t believe her, because for once, the monk pushed against Safi’s cage.
“Are you injured?”
“No, I’m fine.” Her magic scratched at her spine.Lie, lie, lie.
And Monk Evrane nudged once more: “I can ease pain, you know. Or craft you Painstones that will help whatever it is that ails you.”
Painstones. Safi had tried one of those a week ago. It hadn’t helped at all.
“Or,” Evrane continued, advancing a single step closer and dropping her voice, “I can help you fall asleep.”
Ah.Now they had gotten to the crux of the matter. “It’s the Cahr Awen souls, Monk Evrane. All the souls that are trapped inside me from the broken Threadstones. They… push.” Safi dug her fingers into the left side of her forehead, as if this motion might somehow explain how it felt. “It hurts and makes sleep difficult.”
“Hmm,” Evrane agreed, as if all of this made sense to her. “I cannot relieve your burden, Your Imperial Majesty, but I can attempt to dull the pain—and I can certainly give you enough relief for sleep. That is… if you will allow me into your quarters?”
Safi swallowed. She didn’t want Evrane in her quarters. She didn’t want Evrane talking to her in this voice accented by Nubrevnan. Most of all, she didn’t want to open her eyes and meet the dark Nihar irises she knew were standingright there. Inescapable.
Safi swallowed a second time. Then, after several seconds of only taut silence to fill the hall, she twisted away from Evrane. “All right,” she said, finally letting her eyes open. “You may come inside.”
