GIVING WHAT YOU’RE GIVEN #2
Below, closest to the dais, the witches who had come to hear Nivelle address the Dionachs watched the two of us with curious eyes—eyes that looked somewhat envious.
And . . . eyes that did not have markings between them like Nivelle’s did.
In fact, there wasn’t a single witch with markings of any sort, other than her.
Only the Dionachs had them on their temples, and even theirs were starkly different from hers.
Theirs were a mark of their kind, more elegant, and curving to the shape of their face—varying slightly on each being, but the same, in essence.
Nivelle’s were . . . simple, harsh marks.
Like a brand.
After enduring a long moment of scrutiny from the other witches, Nivelle turned and stared up at me. “Let’s go,” she said.
“After you.” I stepped to the side, gesturing toward the stairs.
The Dionachs had shifted their attention to each other and taken up conversation, but the witches tracked our every move as we made our way down the steps.
Nivelle didn’t pause to acknowledge them, so I didn’t either, but I could feel their stares, hot on my back, as I followed the pale-haired witch out of the chamber and back into the daylight.
“What was that?” she asked the moment we stepped out into the world again.
“What do you mean? I was helping you—”
“I had it handled, Roirdan.”
“Did you? Did you know how Niall was going to get them into the fae realm? Or that some would be divided up and sent to help guard the other territories’ borders?”
She slowed to a stop and turned. “I wasn’t aware of everything.”
“That’s because you don’t ask. You just sit there and pretend to know it all. And maybe here, you do, but in our court, it’s almost impossible to know everything by yourself. Why do you hate it when someone just wants to step in and make things easier for you?”
Scoffing, she turned on her heel. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes I do!” I caught her arm before she could make it three full steps away. “I know it damn well, because I’m the same way.”
She halted, but she didn’t tug her arm away like I thought she would.
I stepped closer to her. “You’re going to have to let someone in at some point, Nivelle. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, but I promise you, it’ll be worth it. You don’t have to take on the world alone.”
Someone. I wanted to curse at myself for saying someone instead of me. I didn’t want her to just let anyone in. I wanted her to let me in.
Something about what I said seemed to reach a new depth in her, because her face softened as she slowly looked up at me. Beneath the stone-cold indifference she had shown me all day, there was a hint of vulnerability trying to peek through, just like it had the other night in Vahrenhall.
Scared that I might do something stupid and jeopardize it, I reached into my pocket in space and pulled out the small dagger I’d trained her with the last time we were in The Elderwood. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “Take me somewhere—anywhere you’d like. We’re going to train for a while.”
Her fingers wrapped around the handle, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. “O-Okay.”
We wound through the forest, hauling our knees up over crooked, gnarled roots that carved their way through the footpaths, and ducking beneath branches that bent like broken spines overhead.
Off in the distance, through the trees, I caught glimpses of more thatched-roof structures and homes.
They seemed to be grouped closely together, making me wonder why Nivelle’s was so secluded from the rest.
It wasn’t long before we came to a small clearing where a few wights startled from where they lay, taking their afternoon naps, next to a shallow pond. They watched us as we approached, only scampering toward the tree line when we got within a few feet of them.
Good—better that they were further away. Benmoor’s death cats had left a not-so-fucking nice impression on me.
Nivelle noticed my hesitation and the wary look I gave the small, incorporeal creatures. “Do you have some sort of thing against the wights?”
“Had a close call with death from a bigger version of these not too long ago. So, yeah. Some sort of thing.” I could have sworn a look of concern crossed her face as she glanced from me to the wights.
“These are not deadly. The most they’ll do is bite you if you insult them.”
“Exactly what I want to hear,” I said, retrieving a dagger for myself and twirling it in my hand, threatening any of the creatures who dared try.
Nivelle clicked her tongue. “Don’t taunt them. They’re sentient like us, you know. They’re just . . . spirits, stuck in the in-between. They only know how to give what they are given. Just like we do.”
I looked at her.
They give what they are given. Like we do.
Her words echoed in my mind, opening another layer of something deeper about her, an insight she’d either willingly or unwillingly clued me in on. I stowed it away, adding it to the collection of sentiments that helped me better understand who she was, bit by bit.
“Well, if we give what we’re given, as you say, how about you show me your progress with a weapon.” I nodded toward the dagger and held mine at the ready while she stared at me like I had asked her to skewer a wight and serve it to me on a silver platter. “You have been practicing, right?”
Nervously, she shifted the dagger from one hand to the other. “Yes, but it’s different when you’re practicing with a living being.”
“Don’t be nervous; it’s just me. And if you manage to stab me, I promise, I won’t die.” The bewildered look she gave me had me choking on a laugh. “Trust me, I’ve been stabbed, sliced, bitten, poisoned, even had my leg nearly torn off at the hip. I’ll live.”
She shook her head, palming her weapon as she took up a fighting stance, just like I’d taught her. “Do you have nothing better to do than fight and be injured?”
“Fighting and getting injured became second nature to me a very long time ago.”
I slid a foot forward, and she side-stepped, watching my feet.
“Eyes up,” I said. “Watch my body as a whole. It’ll tell you what to expect.”
She tried, but her focus went back to my feet the moment I shuffled forward again and swiped. The dagger came inches from chopping off half the length of her long hair.
“Are you asking for a haircut?” I taunted her.
“You would really be dead if you did that.” She jabbed at my abdomen, but I skirted around it.
“I don’t believe you. Show me. Attack again.”