Chapter 27 #2
“I know.” Everinne worried her bottom lip, flexing her frozen fingers within her pockets in an effort to keep the blood flowing. Wind whistled through the treetops, so the branches shuddered and moaned. “I was hoping to speak with Zoryana one more time before…”
Before she was no longer allowed to see her only friend.
She swallowed a lump around the words she couldn’t say.
Rozalie tilted her head, her plum-colored lips pressing into one another. It wasn’t exactly a smile, more like a look of pity. “Zoryana is not here.”
Everinne’s stomach bottomed out, and her breathing grew shallow. “She’s already left?”
“She is safe.” The High Priestess fiddled with the silver necklaces she wore around her neck, where charms representing the triple moon jingled together. “Safe from anyone or anything that wishes her harm.”
Safe from me , Everinne wanted to say, but she kept those thoughts to herself.
And yet, beneath the layers of burning peat and cinnamon, the wind carried with it sage and juniper, the scent of Zoryana’s magic when she absorbed grief or remorse. Everinne’s skin tingled.
Rozalie was lying.
“Of course, I understand.” Everinne nodded, attempting to peek around the stoic matriarch of witches. “If you see her, would you please pass along a message from me?”
Rozalie inclined her head, waving one hand through the air for Everinne to continue.
“Tell Zoryana I love her and I’m sorry for the awful things that were said between us.” The smell of sage and juniper strengthened, soothing Everinne. “And that if she wishes to reach me upon her return to Prava…she will find me at the palace.”
Rozalie’s dark brow arched in question. “The palace?”
“I am…” She sucked in a breath and her lungs ached. The bond she had rejected was still there, pulsing softly, connecting her to another soul. “I’m to be married to Prince Atlas.”
There was a flicker of interest in Rozalie’s bright green eyes. “A most impressive union. I did not realize you and the prince were so fond of one another.”
Everinne ducked her head, and her curtain of dark hair billowed in the stiff breeze, hiding her face. “Neither did I.”
The lie was weak but she held her ground, slowly lifting her gaze to find the High Priestess watching her intently. Rozalie pursed her lips, considering, then slid two fingers beneath Everinne’s chin and gently tilted her face upward.
“Are you pleased by this arrangement?” she asked quietly.
No. Yes.
Kralv Oldrich had blackmailed her into marrying Atlas after discovering the power she wielded, and there was no telling what he would demand of her.
Worse, she couldn’t risk exposing the bond that had formed between herself and Atlas.
If the kralv found out about it, he would use such information to his advantage, ensuring he inflicted as much harm to both of them as possible.
When Everinne failed to respond, Rozalie spoke again, her features softened, and her hand fell away. “Sometimes, the mind tells us lies in an effort to console the heart. We try to reason with logic in order to understand our desires, to make sense of our fate.”
Rozalie leaned her weight against the door frame, and the old wood creaked loudly. “But even the moon holds secrets of her own, she too has a dark side. Yet it is not something to fear, but rather embrace.”
“Embrace,” Everinne repeated, not entirely sure how Rozalie’s witchy moon logic applied to her. “It is not easy to embrace the unknown.”
“Of course not, darling. The tapestry of the universe is woven by threads of beating hearts, thousands of souls, and archaic magic long since forgotten by those who still breathe.” Rozalie cupped Everinne’s cheek, the green of her eyes sparkling like mystic seafire.
“You wander lost in this world, unable to see the truth of your purpose.”
Everinne stiffened. She had no purpose, at least none that could be looked upon as anything other than a curse.
It could not be seen as favorable by any gods or goddesses to be born with the power of pain coursing through one’s veins.
Though Rozalie’s touch was warm, the air was suddenly sharp and cold, just like Everinne’s tone.
“I am touched by death.”
“No, my sweet child of the moon. You are blessed by death.” Rozalie ran her thumb along the apple of Everinne’s cheek, tracing a crescent moon with two uneven lines and a swirl beneath it.
“You’ve been chosen by the moon goddess herself to wield her wild darkness.
A strand to forge the grand design between the skies, the stars, and the realms of life.
That power within you is an awakening, a reckoning.
And you are its one true master, not your fear. ”
Everinne wanted to believe the high priestess, she wanted to place her trust in the witch and accept her destined path, to regard this moon goddess as a trusted deity.
But she knew nothing of covens or the old ways.
Instead, her prayers and pleas were thrown into the wind without tradition or ritual, hoping to catch the attention of any god or goddess that might listen.
“How can you be sure?” Everinne asked, her voice far less steady than she had planned.
Rozalie gave a small, non-committal laugh. “Only the Azoura, the three sisters of fate, know all with absolute certainty.”
“Mm.” Everinne knew nothing about the sisters of fate, though given the way Rozalie spoke of them in such high esteem, she could only assume they were powerful within their own right.
Her gaze flicked to the sky, where sparse patches of indigo were barely visible between the tangled branched and feathered leaves.
“I should return to the city before I am missed.”
Rozalie dipped her chin, her plum-colored lips lifting at the corners. “As you do. Blessed tidings, Everinne Auvyre.”
“Blessed tidings.” Everinne pulled the hood of her coat over her head to block the wind, and set off, heading away from the lonely cottage in the woods and back toward the city that was so often more frightening than the forest.
She retraced her steps, treading carefully over worn paths that ended abruptly, and past hollowed trunks that seemed to watch her as she walked by them.
Her breath puffed before her in a fine mist, the temperature dipping as the inky tendrils of night stretched across the sky.
The trees were eerily silent, for there was no birdsong in these wicked woods, no scurrying of woodland creatures, no sign of life save for the creatures of darkness that already dwelled within the Deszvila Forest.
A ripple of unease caused her skin to pebble, and it had nothing to do with the biting wind nipping her cheeks and nose.
She tossed a hasty glance over her shoulder, half expecting to see one of the baukvist lurking in the shadows, tracking her every movement, ready to flay the flesh from her bones.
But there was nothing there, just an unnatural fog that settled along the forest floor, slinking about as though it held secrets of its own.
Gnarled vines curled around the carved trunks of the massively thick trees, slithering and coiling like venomous serpents.
The bitter breeze stung her cheeks and scraped past her ears, carrying the coarse whispers of alluring voices, each one an ancient summons.
But Everinne didn’t dare look back. When she finally emerged from the dense line of trees and the worn dirt path leading back to Starysa came into view, the canopy of branches shuddered then sighed, though whether it was one of relief or mourning she could not be sure, for the touch of death was no longer in its grasp.
Everinne’s footfalls fell steadily on the earth, matching the even beating of her pulse.
She replayed her conversation with Rozalie in her head and without warning, her thoughts drifted to Atlas.
A spear of agony sliced through her, its blade of torment threatening to sever the bond in half.
She clamped one hand over her mouth to keep from gasping, as the pain was wretchedly keen.
Part of her wondered if he was still furious with her, she’d wounded him deeply.
Despite her harsh words and outright denial, the connection between their souls remained in place.
Soft and featherlight, her heart gently caressed the bond.
Her hands trembled in hesitation and she clenched them into fists, burrowing herself deeper into her coat. His name echoed through her mind.
“Atlas.”
For a moment, there was only silence.
And then…
“Yes, Wildheart?”
The deep rumbling of his voice left her breathless.
Everinne shook her head. Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and she sniffled. “Nothing.”