Page 4 of Winter Gods & Serpents

She scowled. “One should fear if the Olympian souls call to you and I am not talking about the spirits,” her eyes hovering around the room as she leaned in and whispered, “Isjordian soldiers are here.”

I leaned in close to her and whispered back, “So?”

She frowned her greyed brows. “There is a price on Olympian heads, Aura or din-Aura.”

All those of Olympian blood will be banished from the world of living, those had been his orders. It had been the first time I’d read an ounce of fear from my father. He’d been afraid they’d rise and come for him, claim the head of the famed killer king.

“I am not Olympian.”

“But the mist calls to you,” she stated confounded.

“I am half Olympian,” I explained, adjusting myself slightly under the dress afraid the pins will poke me again. “Half Isjordian.”

She stumbled back, her mouth parting open in somewhat of realization. There were no half this or that in Dardanes. There were only normal people and then me. Most would never believe me if I muttered such words. At times I’d amuse myself with telling this story to everyone just to see if there was recognition of fear amongst their reactions. Fear, I was taught to feed on it.

“You are Alaric’s child.”

I dismissed the reaction and smiled to her words. “Yes, I am Alaric’s child.”

She bowed her head, lowering to a curtsy before studying me in a stunned stare—a stare I knew too well. “But you are beautiful.”

“Well,” I said in shrug. “Ybrises are still human.” An ybris, hybrid, that was what most called me; child of two Aura.

She avoided my gaze and begun adjusting my waist. “That is not what I meant,” she said tucking in the fabric. “That man is everything but able to raise a girl. How has he not made you grow a beard or shave your head and swear like a huntsman?”

“The latter I should not hold on too hopeful,” Nia said fiddling with some lace behind me.

“How do you know Alaric?”

“Signe wleg rroz gha.” We all know him, she answered in Calgnan—Olympian tongue. She took a deep breath and folded my sleeves. “He helped my family settle over Whitebridge in Solarya when Isjordian soldiers were looking for survivors. I only returned a couple years ago when my husband died. I figured I’d like for my bones to rest where they were born, Myrdur was my home.”

I swallowed, remembrance filling me with guilt. “It was of many.”

Her finger went under my chin lifting my gaze to hers. “To many it will again become, grandchild of Jonah, greatest king of Olympia. Have faith Eldingchild, your bloodline rose from where no light ever saw the dark, between clouds and sky from earth of rock, from there one day might it once more raise.” She offered me a smile and patted my cheek before crutching to fix my hem. “The zgahna awakens to you. It is a sign from your ancestors, one of warning.”

My eyes met Nia’s in the mirror only to be interrupted by the loud bang of the door. All thought of the magic mist flew away at the presence of smug fool.

“She did it,” Cai said leaning in the door enveloping the whole frame with his stature, a victorious expression painted on. “Made you look a maiden.”

Nia snorted. “I don’t do the works even gods failed to do, but she is a decent version of that, if she keeps her mouth closed for longer than two seconds.”

“The ‘scowl don’t voice the offense’ doesn’t really do it for me.”

“Mlla malaght, Lena,” Cai saluted good day to the seamstress and took a seat by Nia on the sofa by the wall.

I blinked rapidly. “You know one another?”

Lena sighed in an irked expression. “He dallied with my son a few couple of times. Mlla malaght, rrahgan.”

Nia and I blasted in howling laughter and Cai crossed his arms bewildered at Lena. Rake—that would not be the best word to call him, but it came somewhat close. He was a free spirit, the realm was his canvas and he enjoyed colours. Who could blame him for that? But I could blame him for the nonchalance he showed to those erased from his canvas and he did grow out like for a colour quick.

Lena clicked her tongue at him. “Broke his heart that one.”

Nia patted his shoulder. “Growing a following with your promiscuous behaviour.”

He nonchalantly crossed his ankle over a knee. “Your son was a grown man Lena; he knew he was ‘dallying’ with a…rrahgan. He also seemed to enjoy my rrahgan ways.”

She huffed in annoyance and went to her worktable noting down where to take in the measurements.