Page 49 of Tasteful Anarchy and Tangled Auras
Adi sniffs. “Okay, okay,” she says as she hugs Orla again. “Give Sean our love.”
Orla nods, eyes wet. “I’ll see you again soon. You muscleheads take care of her, you hear me?” and she wraps her arms around each of us in a farewell hug as Adi swings up onto her horse.
It’s late afternoon but Adi has assured us that the Temple isn’t far. Adi is again in her ceremonial garb of the corseted white gown with the unusual half-sweater wrap thing. It’s as soft as it looks, I had happily discovered. We head out of the North Gate, which is identical to the South Gate we had entered through, except carved in a black stone. We seem to veer away from the river, which makes Bryn breathe easier.
“So you’ve seriously have never had an iced caramel oat milk latte?” Adi asks, grinning.
“I think you’re teasing me, little mate,” I respond. I have spent more time in the human world than Bryn, but not near as much as Adi.
“No, no. Of course not. I’m just saying, you strike me as a whipped cream frou-frou coffee drink kind of guy. When we visit my shop in Boston, I’ll make you one special.”
“And what kind of guy do I strike you as?” Bryn asks with a small smile.
“Earl Grey with milk.” Her voice shakes with barely contained laughter but neither of us get her joke.
“Do you truly think we’ll ever be able to visit your shop?” I ask.
Her animated face falls. “Shit, I sure hope so. I miss it. And my apartment above it.” She sighs. “But my bed there is definitely not big enough for the three of us.”
We’ve taken to sleeping in a big puppy pile together. After the intimacy of the night of ritual, sleeping with both of us wound around her seems like nothing. And then we’re both right therein case of danger. Plus Bryn and I seem to need to touch her more often since that night.
We ride in silence for awhile.
I see Bryn square himself. Damn. Something uncomfortable is about to come up. My eyes flick to Adi, feeling nervous. Those two can fight like two wet cats in a bag sometimes. But it’s to me that Bryn turns.
“Ossy, what are your magical abilities?”
I blink. This was not where I was expecting this to go. I take a deep breath. “Well, you see, my mother is descended of the Goddess and half-giantess Skadi. Skadi married the sea god Njord. We believe he was the grandfather of our line, as some of his gifts have been seen in our family. My father was a common nymph, no one special. Except to my mother, who had eyes only for him. And he for her.” I smile, remembering the way he worshiped her, the way she loved to make him laugh.
“He was skilled with what he called ‘secretive’ magics: wall spells, locking spells, alarms spells. I seem...to have inherited none of his talents. Nor my mother’s and grandmother’s control of weather, as that has to pass down the female line.”
Adi turns to me. “So you have the latent magic of your combined species, and that’s all?”
I know they don’t intend to insult me but I sigh. “Correct.”
“Did your father ever train you?” Bryn asks.
“No.”
Bryn looks as though he wants to continue this questioning, but Adi stops us. “It’s right here somewhere.”
We both look around. I see nothing unusual. The trees, with brilliant yellow and red leaves, line the wide path, which simply continues straight ahead. But Adelaide has dismounted and turned to the west. She steps off the path, and both of us swing down from our saddles to step closer to her. Her hands extend outward as she turns.
“Aha! Here,” and she presses one hand forwards and an illusion spell drops, revealing a wide, well-trodden trail heading back towards the river.
Bryn blinks. “How did our retinue find this without you?”
“A Priestess was waiting for them,” she says. “It’s best to walk the horses a bit. They don’t like the edge of the magic here.”
We turn onto the trail, and I feel the shiver of the warding on my skin, like little pricks of razor blades. The Priestesses obviously aren’t messing around. Soon the trail makes a sharp turn before the path opens up ahead, and we get our first glimpse of the Temple of Aine in the late-evening sun.
Framed by the trees, the Temple is vast, built of a grey stone and circular with a domed top. It’s grander than I was expecting, perhaps four stories tall and expanding behind the trees, so I can’t judge its width.
I hear the sound of the river, and as we come to the end of the trail, I realize that the main building is directly abutting the Murimont. The main building’s outer wall is all stone archways, with all the ones I can see stoned-in as designed, except for one. But the keystone and decoration at the top of each arch looks distinctly vulva-like. It makes me chuckle. It’s a nice touch.
Off this main building, to either side, are smaller circular buildings, like bubbles off the largest one. These have smooth, circular walls, and there are maybe ten in all, of various sizes. To the right are unattached stables—of a typical shape—and a large well-kept hen house. To the left are large gardens. Small pathways extend into the woods that form a protective semicircle around the Temple buildings.
Bryn
