“I could do it!”
“Yes, I am sure you could. Lie down and die, then. I’ll not stop you.”
Aida recoiled from the jagged blade Marilsa held out to her, scooting back in the thick weeds to get away from the vicious gleam sliding along the curved edges of the metal. It seemed far easier when she thought it, said it. Faced now with the very means to enact her final moments, Aida floundered, stricken and plagued by the constant companion of her fear.
“Not as strong as I thought you were by half.” Marilsa sneered, turning her head to spit in the grass. “Won’t do anything with it, refuse to end it. You just going to let them do as they wish, then?”
“I… You can’t expect me to…” Aida whined and flung a hand through the air, an aimless gesture to indicate everything and nothing at all. Her heart writhed with her grief, with all the things she would never experience again. Least of all was the way her soul seemed to call her to run as fast as she could to find Er’it and throw herself in his arms, begging him to make her feel safe for just a moment more.
“Rhyn Lirkinson will sell you to whoever has the most coin. Now that he knows who and what you are, he is eager to be rid of you and for as much as he can weasel out of some idiot.” Marilsa’s eyes took on a faded, distant sheen, lost in the flames mirrored in her bright green gaze. Her voice changed, turning husky, rich, measured words easing into the night air. “The one who makes your pretty eyes all misty, he will ruin himself. Destroy everything he holds dear. Heart and soul sundered forever. Destruction will be his companion, devastation his love.”
Wide eyes fixed on Marilsa, Aida shivered as a haze of power whispered through the air. A wave of green specks glowed in the darkness, dancing through the night as they scattered through the woods. The fae lights growing no dimmer as they continued on, they drifted deeper into the trees until Aida could discern no sign of them.
Marilsa grunted. Seeming to collapse on her hunched form, she appeared feeble and frail in the warm glow of the fire, her heavy-lidded gaze weary.
“Marilsa, are you well?” Aida didn’t hesitate, snatching up the bag of food as she crawled over to Marilsa’s side. One arm looped around the old woman’s shoulders, Aida pulled out the first thing that came to hand. Some sort of bread, the thick crust would be too difficult for Marilsa in this weakened state. Nod decisive, Aida tore open the roll and ripped out the softer insides, pushing the spongy piece into Marilsa’s hand. “Eat something. I think it helps.”
She knew Otaso often ate large amounts when he worked his magics. Er’it, too, seemed the same. Hoping it would help Marilsa in the same way, Aida sat by her side and fed her small bites. Taking a different, smaller knife from Marilsa’s belt to cut bite-sized pieces from another pear, she offered those as well. Each mouthful appeared to give a little more strength until Marilsa waved her off, grumbling and waving stiff hands.
“You would coddle the wolf that bit you, wouldn’t you?” Marilsa asked with a huff.
“I don’t know.” Aida shrugged and scooted away, though she did not go far. “I might. A wolf is only an animal. It is not their fault. They must eat the same as I do.”
“Vrazys preserve me, you are a little idiot.”
“Who is Vrazys?”
“Not a who, a what. The triad. Goddesses that make up the Oscaran religion.”
“Oh. All right.” Aida nodded as if she had any understanding of what that meant. There were no goddesses in the Abyss. It was an endless void, a place where everything went in the end. One day it would overcome the world to swallow it whole and end all existence. Terrifying and dreadful.
Aida fed the twigs and scrawny branches into the fire as they huddled near it, both watching the flames. Worrying at her lower lip, Aida tumbled the wealth of information Marilsa had imparted over in her mind, teasing out every morsel.
“Are there others like me?” Aida asked in a faraway voice, still sifting through her bounty of knowledge, sparse as it was.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. No two were ever exactly the same, each with their own power.” Marilsa’s sigh was the raspy chatter of dead leaves swirling in the wind. Poking at the small fire with a sturdy stick, her shoulder rolled in a shrug.
“But if they had eyes like mine…?”
“Haven’t heard tell of one with those in a long time. Not since your birth, any road. They are not all so obvious. Most look no different from any other.” Marilsa’s lips twisted up in a snarl of amusement as she slid her vivid green gaze to Aida without turning her head. “Not near the power, though. You’re marked for it, so all may see. Magic always has a price.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You have no choice.”
“I’ve never had a choice.” Startled by her own vehemence, Aida pulled up her knees, hugging them tight to her chest to ward off the bitter chill of her words as much as the cold.
“You had choices aplenty, girl. Each time you bowed to him was a choice. Every time you did nothing, kept your silence, or begged their forgiveness was a chance to change things that you did not take. Choosing the path of least resistance is a choice, whether you like it or not.” Cruel as Marilsa’s words were, there was no malice in her tone. It was tired, weary, but not vicious.
“He would have killed me—”
“Not you, not until he was ready for it.”
“He would have killed more of them,” Aida snapped, scrambling up to her feet to pace a handful of stilted, bitter strides away from the fire and back. Hand whistling through the air in the general direction of Aeslomor that she could feel at her back even now, streamers of icy azure feathered into the darkness as she whipped around to look down at Marilsa. “He killed them, hurt them, because of me. Everyone suffers because ofme!”
“Oh, shall I weep for you? Do you want so much pity, to be swaddled in condolences for your plight? Pah! You foolish bitch.” Marilsa’s snort faded into low grumbles as she shook her head hard, the ratted strands of her iron-sky hair tangling over her shoulders. Snatching up her leather sack of food, she began lumbering her way to her feet. “I’ll not sit here and listen to this horse dung.”
“Why are you so mean to me?” Aida stomped her foot, sending a rippling thunder through the earth. The trees swayed and groaned under the assault, their roots clinging to the fresh earth to keep them upright.
