41. Chapter 41
Chapter 41
Viola
T he amount of tension that flies between our group this morning is indecent. It's screaming at me to say something, to break this silent argument we all seem to be having.
I don't know what all was said, but I saw the standoff between Mace, Morrow, and Tulip. I've never seen Morrow look so fired up, his skin deepening in color as he berated Mace, and the latter slumped against a stone. Tulip was uncharacteristically upset behind him after joining about halfway through the conversation. It took everything in my power not to sneak over there to listen in.
No one needs to tell me what was said because I know it was about me.
Plume was nowhere to be found, but after Mace slunk off into the cave she appeared with a new set of clothing for me and the assurance that she spoke to Bean to let them know we'd come by when we could.
I'm a menace to this group, that is for sure. I was unpredictable and moody on my best days as a human, but now as some quasi-God, I am sure I am insufferable. I can sometimes feel it when the fury rises in me, and I know I'm being too much, and yet I am unable to stop it as it boils over.
"I need to talk to the city leader before we do anything else. My family can wait. I have to explain what happened last night," I say solidly without glancing back at my companions.
"Do you need to admit to it?" Tulip asks, lengthening her stride to walk abreast of me.
There isn't even a question in my mind. "I do. I need to tell them everything. Those men were deserving of what happened to them, but their families are still owed closure." Amio's family and friends never got that closure, and that's what led us to this situation.
I need to learn from my mistakes.
I have to start cleaning up the messes I leave in my wake.
We find the village elder, a gorgeous woman with a mess of tight black curls and impossibly long legs. Her curved figure is wrapped in a forest green dress that is loosely tied around the waist, and she's barefoot. I can't even begin to guess her age because, save for a few wrinkles on the corners of her eyes, she has no signs of aging and could be anywhere from thirty to sixty. When she introduces herself as Vic and takes my hand, my impression of her skyrockets as she does not shy away from the discoloration of my fingers.
"Viola Mistflow. Your reputation precedes you, you know. After the minotaur battle in Pran, several people made their way here to inform us of your upcoming visit." Her voice is husky, a shade deeper than I would've expected, but it's comforting, like a warm blanket.
"Well, I know for a fact it isn't all good things. I'm willing to answer any questions you may have," I say, sitting down at the table she gestures to. We all pile into her small home, Mace and Plume fan out around the walls, with Morrow and Tulip sitting at the table flanking me.
Vic slides into the chair directly across from me, resting her head in her hand. "I heard you were black-headed, not white."
The reminder that the hair I inherited from my father no longer grows from my head and has been replaced by the hair of the God who has claimed me as a daughter stings. "That's an interesting story, I guess. It's actually part of the reason why I'm here." With a deep breath, I launch into the story of my capture, attempted assault, and the ultimate slaying of the men. "I do possess the powers of Himureal, so I read their blood and intentions before I executed them. I wish I could show you proof, but they had nothing but horrendous intents for me."
The memory of my face, beaten and bruised, with my hair cut in odd angles staring back at me from a mirror churns my stomach. That was the woman who almost fell victim to monstrous men once again.
Never again.
She died in that house with those pieces of shit.
"The bodies were found this morning. It is not an ideal situation, you understand, for gaining favor with my people." Vic is very no-nonsense, rising to stand and make us all tea. "They do not take lightly to one of their own being murdered."
"But was it murder?" Tulip asks softly, interrupting the conversation.
Vic glares at her, brows lowered. "And who are you?"
"Tulip Goldtide, of Pran. Is it murder if her life was literally on the line? They were clear they were going to kill her in retaliation for something she did to save her life during the Race. Was she expected to sit there and allow them to rape her and cut her throat?"
"Well, no, but –"
"But nothing. The only reason why you're having any qualms about it is because she used magic during it." I've never heard Tulip's voice so stern, and I'm realizing now how much she's grown during this trip. Her confidence is unwavering, a far cry from the rambling young woman who stumbled into a forest oasis.
Vic sputters a bit as she sets down mugs of tea for us before clearing her throat. "You never explained what they had to do with your hair becoming white."
No one calls attention to her deft change of subject, her attempt to distance herself from what is clearly prejudice against me using magic to defend myself. "When I went to bed with it shorn off, I woke up with it like this. I can only assume it's a trait of Himureal my body has taken on from his magic, similar to my hands," I show her all sides of my hands, the black lightning bolts that stretch across them, "and my chest." I pull open the collar of my shirt and show her the top of the sunfire, a darkened brand between my breasts.
"What they say in Pran is true, then. You've got God magic?"
"For better or worse, it's true. Himureal is looking to banish the other Gods forever, and I'm trying to put a stop to that. Which requires me to find artifacts each God used to tether themselves to this world. If you couldn't guess, I've found three of them already. Himureal's, Solarius's, and I found Avidor's here in your town. But I still need the journal of Avidor's high priest to try to piece together how this all came to be."
She ignores my request for the journal and narrows her eyes further. "You've got the magic of three Gods? I'm just supposed to believe it?"
"I have the magic of three Gods, but not all of their magic. Just what they were willing to sacrifice in the creation of their seeds to anchor them here." I drop my head, the fight I've felt for weeks now draining from me. "Look, Vic, I didn't want this. This is not something I sought after. But for some reason, I have been marked as the one who can stop Himureal from plunging this world into eternal Winter." I tap my fingers on the table, and Shadow slithers from the shadows of the room up my leg and wraps around my neck. Vic balks for a moment but does not acknowledge the familiar further.
"My people will never follow you. You killed three of our own, you are covered in stolen magic, and you travel with fae. Including Mace Nightroot." She says his name with disdain, and I don't have to look to know he's flinched at it.
"I don't need them to follow me. I don't need them to worship me. I need the journal, and then I'll be on my way to Feria." I push to my feet, moving around the table to lean against her countertop.
"I am not the easiest person to support, I am aware of that." I tap my fingers five times on the hilt of a knife before I draw it, careful to move slowly and unthreateningly. I pick under my fingernails with the tip of the knife. "I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Vic. I can see the ruthlessness in your eyes. I can tell you're a fierce leader. We would have had fun sparring."
She laughs and turns her chair to face me, leaning back so the front two legs remove themselves from the floor. "I think so too, Mistflow. But I'm not keen on just giving the journal away for free, you see? You are taking something of value from my city, and we need some compensation for that."
Morrow slaps his hands on the table and growls, "Your compensation is that the world says afloat and beasts don't overrun your city. Know your place when you speak to your God."
I wrinkle my nose at him and click my tongue. "Stop it, Morrow. You're not from the Lowlands, you don't understand how it works here. You cannot get something for nothing."
Vic rolls her deep brown eyes at him before turning her sights back on me. "So what is your offer, Mistflow?"
I push off the counter, sheathing my blade. "Mace and I both have the ability to draw iron ore from the caves," I say slowly. I don't know if I have the ability. Theoretically, I should, but it's not like I've practiced it before.
But her eyes glisten at the possibility. "You could save my people the time mining it?" She leans forward on her elbows, propping her beautiful face up in her hands. "How much could you get us?"
Mace pushes off the wall. "We would be happy to extract from an existing tunnel, but no more than that. It's a fair trade."
She nods and sticks her hand out to me, but before I can shake it, Mace interrupts. "One more thing, though." We both turn our heads to look at him. His expression is unreadable, his body tense as his arms rest behind his back. The pose reminds me of the opening ceremonies of the Race and the haughty attitude of a leader. He looks incredible in the solid black clothes he wears today, even if they don't fit him properly. As I look at him, a feeling of warmth rolls over me, and I recognize his Influence spreading throughout the room. He never breaks eye contact with Vic. "You will make the use of slag illegal. All of it must be disposed of immediately as soon as the refinement of the ore is completed. You personally will oversee the disposal of all of it. Your people used it as a weapon against our God, and we cannot allow that to stand."
Vic's eyes are glassy, and she's nodding, but when she speaks, her words sound forced, like she is struggling to get them out. "How could I be expected to stop that? It's a byproduct, and it's not like we can stop refinement. To do so would cripple our trade."
He shrugs, staring at her with utter contempt and boredom etched into his features. I feel something stirring within me as I watch him. The desire I feel for him bubbles to the surface, and I wonder what it says about me that I am painfully attracted to manipulative Mace. My core heats watching the way he cocks his head to the side, bright green eyes narrowed on Vic. "Do we have a deal or not, Vic?"
She drops her shoulders, nodding. "We have a deal. I'll have a team ensure that all of it is used in an aggregate for buildings."
The warmth fades, and Mace steps back towards the wall. Everyone around us looks a little hazy, but I can see Mace through clear eyes. He knows it, too. We make eye contact across the room, and there is a flicker of sadness before he turns away from me and fixes his gaze on the wall behind Vic.
He wasn't joking. He is really done with this.
With me.
I didn't realize how much I wanted it until now.
It serves me right. I was beginning to open myself up to him after everything, even knowing what he did to Link. That was wrong of me. I should never have gotten to that point with someone who was responsible for the death of the only man I ever loved.
"Where is the journal, then?" Tulip breaks the silence for me, lost to distraction and falling into my thoughts.
Vic stands up and retrieves it but doesn't hand it to us. "First, the ore. Then you can have the journal."