CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE #2
“If I have the answer, and it does not break the confidence of anyone in my charge, it will be yours.”
I reached into my pocket, thumbing the snowpetal.
Cloak pin or not, it was the singular possession of my mother’s that had made its way to me, and I found that I had little desire to hand it over.
But I couldn’t deny this was the first time in a long while that I finally had something to exchange for the information I sought. For once, I was not powerless.
“You said that if I accompanied you on this walk, there were truths you intended to reveal.”
“And there are.”
“But only once I relinquish my most precious belonging? None of this makes any sense.” I crossed my arms over my middle petulantly as Vayen pressed the bridge of her nose.
If I were honest, it wasn’t only her request that raised my guard.
Too often had I found myself sparring with those who clearly knew more than they intended to share.
Those with the knowledge I sought, united in their refusal to illuminate me.
I was quite through with being the stupid girl whose sole purpose was to be quiet and obey.
I wanted to figure out what in the depths was happening, even if I had to be petty in the process.
“Tell me your suspicion, and then I’ll hand it over. ”
A log adjusted itself in the hearth with a thud, spitting sparks all over the scorched rug before it.
Whick shifted in his throne with a half-snore, half-gasp.
The man had fallen asleep cradling a still-sloshing tankard, Rowland’s brooch forgotten in his lap.
Both Vayen and I assessed him with incredulous expressions.
Was this drunken former Scholar capable of discerning anything about me in his state?
Vayen’s attention returned to me as her jaw worked, so I added, “That’s more than fair, considering you all but dragged me from sleep into the frozen night without so much as an explanation. I think I’ve been more than accommodating.”
Without awaiting her reply, I crossed over haphazard piles of books, narrowly avoiding a forgotten teacup, before reaching a chair on Whick’s right.
The one I chose was draped in silver silks with a dark blue cushion.
I plopped down as though it were my own personal throne, crossed one leg over the other, and fixed my expectant gaze on Vayen.
Her hesitation was brief, and then she was mirroring my movements.
She stepped to a chair dressed in bright green silk with a silver cushion on Whick’s left—straight across from me.
The hearth as her backdrop, her features were quite shadowed, and I found myself wishing I’d taken that seat instead.
As though I’d spoken the thought aloud, Vayen shifted the chair, and when she sat, half of her face illuminated under the flickering light.
She leaned forward to rest elbows atop knees, head dropping so that I was met only with a sea of dark curls.
I couldn’t hear the sigh she emitted, but I witnessed as her shoulders rose and fell with the effort.
Whatever she was about to say, it didn’t seem as though she was particularly thrilled to discuss it.
When she finally spoke, I understood why.
“I have these visions,” she said, still staring at the floor.
“Visions,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sometimes, when I’m asleep, I see things.”
“Like a dream?”
“No, not like a dream,” Vayen said, irritation clipping her syllables. “It’s… it’s different.”
Unbothered by her annoyance, I asked, “How is it different?”
Vayen straightened against the back of the chair, her usually full lips thinning into a severe line. “Because there’s a woman in them, and she knows things she couldn’t possibly. She told me I had to save you.”
“Save me from what?”
“She didn’t say.”
“That sounds like a dream to me.”
Vayen seemed unable to help the raising of her voice. “Before you came to Grenythwood. I saw you before we ever met.”
This caused Whick, who seemed to have eased into his drunken slumber, to stir momentarily.
Vayen’s words were a blow to my hesitation.
If she had made her claim only yesterday, I would have dismissed her outright.
But the clearing in my dream had been so very similar to the blood pit.
Similar, I reiterated to myself. It couldn’t have been the exact same clearing, and it probably wasn’t me in her dream—just someone who looked like me.
Those were the thoughts I propped up in my mind, but her insistence mixed uncomfortably with what had happened to me the night before.
“That isn’t possible,” I said instead of outright questioning her sanity, and in turn my own.
“Clearly, it is.”
I didn’t want to believe her. I couldn’t.
Sorcery was dangerous for Lunamorians, a reality more solidified with each of my encounters.
To think it was calling Vayen to me? Or infiltrating my dreams?
No thank you, absolutely not. Besides, I’d already saved myself by crossing the Threshold.
Unless my father and Rowland had found a way to cross, in which case I would need all the assistance offered to me…
“What else did she say?” I asked hesitantly.
“All I know is that she wanted me to find you. And last night, after the blood pit, she brought me here. I spoke with Whick”—her eyebrows reached for one another, seemingly out of pity, as his lips flapped with another snore—“and after I told him about my visions, and what I knew of you, he nearly tossed me out on my ass. Said I was playing tricks on him, and wondered who had put me up to it.”
“Put you up to what?”
“Exactly the question I asked,” Vayen continued. “He told me about a Goddess Vessel that appears whenever one of the five Goddesses has had her connection with Morwyn dimmed.” Before I could voice my inquiry, Vayen heaved another labored sigh. “Right, I keep forgetting you’re Lunamorian.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you exist in a silo and have little interest in informing yourselves on the world around you. Ever since that damnable wall was built, from what I’ve been told.”
“I’ll have you know that wall has protected generations of—”
“Do you want answers to your questions or would you rather continue your history lesson?”
My lips pursed unthinkingly. I had spent my entire life wanting to know more of the world outside our wall, and every attempt at obtaining that knowledge had been met with punishment and humiliation.
She poked a wound she knew nothing of, but ultimately, she was right; there were pressing matters to discuss that interested me far more, so I swallowed my contempt at her generalization and raised my chin with narrowed eyes.
“What five Goddesses?”
Vayen clasped her hands in her lap, studying me with low eyebrows.
“Naeno, the smaller moon; Iavhiski, the larger; Zimphet, the sun; Avosh, the land; and Cyrsira, the sea. Just as your people revere the Creator who wove the tapestry of the sky before hand-placing the stars and blowing out your precious comets, my people’s faith lies in Naeno. ”
I had wrongly assumed that all of Morwyn put their faith in the Creator; why would they not?
How could a moon or a sea compare to a being capable of weaving the fabric of our existence?
It made little sense to me, but I was no Scholar, so I kept my tongue still as Vayen scooted to the edge of her seat before carrying on.
“As I understand it, if her Vessel were to awaken in Morwyn, she could absorb a piece of Naeno’s soul, imbuing her with untold power.”
“Power,” I echoed with narrowed eyes. “What kind of power?”
“It’s untold in the literal sense, because the last time this occurred, Scholars weren’t in a position to keep records. At least, that is what he claims.” The set of Vayen’s jaw was rather disapproving as she tilted her head towards the snoring Scholar.
I discouraged the disbelieving sigh that rose my shoulders, adeptly transforming it into a controlled inhale. “Let’s say all of this is true. Why are you looking for this Vessel?”
“My people believe that Naeno’s connection to our land has been severed.” When my mouth opened, she interrupted with a raised finger, “Please do not ask me why; there are some truths that are not meant for you, and this is one of them.”
I huffed out a breath and leaned back into my chair, allowing my posture to relax.
“The why is not important,” she continued. “What matters is that the impact to my people has been catastrophic. I believe that if Naeno’s Vessel were to obtain her soul fragment, that maybe… just maybe… the severance that has decimated my people could be repaired.”
Gavner’s hairless face and deep-set eyes invaded my mind, those pearly teeth visible as he spoke through an eerie smile. I recalled some of what he’d said the night before.
“Twenty years,” I echoed before worrying my lip between my teeth.
Whick lolled his head around, allowing only one eye to peek open at the two of us. “Still yapping?”
Vayen could not have looked more unimpressed. “I’m offering her details in exchange for her moonstone.”
“In exchange for a glance at my moonstone,” I clarified quickly, to which she rolled her eyes.
“Get on with it, then.” Whick took another swig of his tankard, some of the dark liquid sloshing over the side and landing in his lap. Unbothered, he settled deeper into his throne and shut his eyes once more.
Vayen shook her head before meeting my gaze. “You were saying?”
“Last night…” I had hoped to avoid bringing up the blood pit entirely, and when Vayen’s eyes darkened and the muscle beneath her bare arms rippled visibly, it was all I could do to continue, “Gavner said Naeno withdrew her blessing more than twenty years ago. That there was a transfer of power.”
Vayen fell silent. I could just barely see that fluttering jawline on the illuminated portion of her face.