Chapter 22 #3
“Won't be much longer. The Covens just need to nominate those competing and give them their weapons for the Anoethau. Then we can get you a drink. I think you'll love the blackberry gin some of the Central Wielders make.”
My stomach roiled at the mention of more alcohol. “Not sure that's such a good idea after earlier.”
Addae dismissed my concerns with a wave. “Just take it easy, the gin is nowhere near as strong as the wine you tried earlier.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Sounds delightful.”
Each Coven called up their nominated competitors. Starting with the Central Coven, who called on Mared, Aeron's daughter, and a short, dark-haired male by the name of Brychan, who seemed to have a permanent sneer on his face.
Granny, representing the North, called up the blond twins who had terrorised me during training, Osian and Guto.
The final nomination for the North was Seren, which came as a surprise considering how powerful she had been when kicking my arse the other day.
I'd assumed she was already chosen as a vassal of some wind god.
Emna for the South called up a red-headed girl with freckles who looked far too young to be competing. The second nominee was Alaw, who skipped to her position in front of Emna.
Finally, it was Caerwyn's turn, and my mouth went dry when he called up Dylan, who moved from his spot behind Caerwyn to stand in front of him, clasping his hand.
Despite only seeing him less than an hour before, my body shivered as I took in his huge form.
He'd plastered on a mask of indifference, but I noticed the way he shifted from one foot to the other as the crowds whispered Son of the Sea, over and over again.
We like him; he's delicious, the voice inside me purred.
A gasp left my mouth at its unexpected crude remark, and Addae looked at me, confused. I thumped my fist to my chest and muttered something about hiccups.
As Caerwyn cleared his throat to announce the next nominee, the crowd began to grow restless towards the back.
Raised voices could be heard as the crowd parted.
A short woman with black hair slicked into a tight knot at the nape of her neck shoved the Witches and Wielders aside.
She stormed across the clearing, eventually stopping next to Dylan.
He glared down at her as the two seemed to exchange some choice words, judging by their expressions.
If I hadn't been a ball of anxiety in the moment, I might have laughed as the shorter woman seemed to have the last word when Dylan's mouth snapped shut.
A large patch of scarred red skin ran from her hairline, down the left side of her face, disappearing below her black habit. She was tiny in stature, but seemed to radiate a don't fuck with me kind of energy.
Caerwyn clapped a large hand on her shoulder and announced his final nomination.
“Also partaking in the Anoethau on behalf of the Western Coven is Lleucu Thomas!”
The cheer of the crowd seemed to happen in slow motion as I registered her name.
Her eyes met mine, as if she could sense my panic, and I braced myself to see the recognition in them.
But when they skipped over me and continued pinning everyone in the crowd with the same steely look, I breathed a sigh of relief.
She looked so different from the day of my Cychwyniad, and not just because of the scar she now bore. There was nothing but coldness in her face now; long gone was the gentle girl who had acted as my decoy that day.
What had happened for her to change Covens and serve the West? Her parents had clearly been devoted Wielders of the North. Had they also changed alliances?
Once the crowd had quietened down, Granny stepped forward and began thanking everyone for their attendance. She explained the weapon exchange would happen next and gestured to the first set of nominees to begin.
“I have one final nomination to make before we proceed, Ledr Bronwen.” Aeron's voice cut across the clearing.
Granny seemed just as surprised as the rest of the Cyngor Blaen.
Ail Taran began whispering frantically in Ledr Emna's ear.
She gave his hand a quick squeeze before shushing him and nodding for him to pay attention to Aeron.
“I call forward the full-blooded granddaughter of the Northern Coven's leader. She is of age and yet to be chosen as a vassal. This qualifies her to represent the North in the upcoming Anoethau,” he said with a wry smile.
His eyes scanned the surrounding crowd, but thankfully, they didn't meet my own.
Audible gasps bounced around the space as the crowd speculated who the mysterious girl could be. Addae's eyes met mine, and he gave me a small shrug as if he had no guesses as to who the final nominee could be.
Although the effects of the wine had been purged from my body, it felt like I had downed a whole tankard again. Swaying on the spot, I could feel my heart kicking against my ribs.
Fuck. This was actually happening.
Aeron waved a hand to quieten the crowd.
“While we wait for her to show herself, let me make something clear. She may be the daughter of Gwaun the Orddu, but in no way should she be held accountable for the atrocities her father has committed. Let us welcome Non Meredith with open arms and hope that she prevails in being granted the highest blessing by the gods and chosen as a vassal.”
Addae turned towards me, his gasp so dramatic that within seconds the entire crowd had clocked that it was me Aeron had just nominated.
“Come now, Non. Let's not keep the gods waiting.” Aeron extended a hand. I moved without thinking, but I couldn't bring myself to lift my head. My skin crawled under the weight of so many gazes fixed on me.
“As per our customs, we now ask the family of the nominees to present them with their weapon of choice to use during these trials. This can be their own Arf or one gifted by their family. For those who are not so fortunate to have either”— Aeron shifted his eyes to me with a smirk— “I am sure we can find you a spare to use.”
The following minutes seemed to happen in a blur, and I barely lifted my eyes off the ground to look at what was happening.
But in my periphery, I could see a man kneeling in front of the red-haired Southern Coven nominee to my immediate left and handing her a curved staff.
Others followed suit; a grey-haired man in red knelt in front of Alaw and handed her a curved sickle with an ornate wooden handle.
A grey-haired woman in the crowd, who looked like she could be Alaw's mother, looked on at her with pride shining in her eyes.
Eventually, each nominee besides me stood with a weapon in their hands.
Aeron clapped his hands together. “Now that's done—”
“Wait!”
I followed the voice to see Caerwyn stepping from the line.
“I, Caerwyn Meredith, brother of the late Gwilym Meredith, wish to present his granddaughter, my great niece, with a weapon.”
Caerwyn nodded at Dylan, who opened his palm and summoned a long dagger in a battered leather sheath, the hilt of which was wrapped in black fabric.
Caerwyn took it from his hand and made his way towards me.
When he reached me, he began slowly lowering to one knee as he lifted the knife, presenting it to me.
“Carnwennan, the god dagger, belonged to your grandfather before he passed. He would have wanted you to have it,” he said with sincerity.
I glanced around and found thousands of eyes fixed on me—except for Granny's. She looked away, her focus on nothing in particular, her jaw working as if chewing on words she so desperately wanted to say.
As I reached out to grab the dagger, my hand trembled shamelessly. What the fuck was I going to do with a dagger when I couldn't even get my nerves under control?
I barely managed a forced smile in thanks, and Caerwyn returned it with a genuine one that eased some of the tension I felt in my chest. It was then I realised no one had smiled at me like that in a very long time.
Not since Catrin was alive.