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Her eyes showed that she was not wholly convinced that the news was good.
The balance had tilted again. What did it mean? I suddenly felt cold all over. Did it mean that Prozeus had it worse at that very moment? Ninurta was taking and taking, and now it was spilling out? It was possibly full, bloated, or hopefully, just tired.
“B-but,” I stuttered, barely able to sort my thoughts, much less say something to Diana. She did not need her powers to read my mind. My feelings were all over my face, I could tell.
“He is well. The storm had passed, and I believe that they are getting closer to the villain. It was the first thing that I did this morning – scry for His Majesty, King Metheus,” she soothed, hands over mine, gently massaging.
Still, I wanted to be there. My powers were never gone, but they might be ready for gobbling. Strong fire. I would rather give everything to Metheus than give the hungry god my fire. But the Ninurta never took my power when it had its chance. Why?
“What can we do to fight against something that takes our powers?” I asked. My hands had escaped her soft hold. Instead, I was massaging her with my hands, pressing urgently.
Diana was quiet for a while. Then, she looked at the excited throng of witches. I could see it clearly then. She was not as happy as the rest of them. Her eyes mirrored some of my anxieties even as she posed an optimistic front.
“Most of the witches are overjoyed at regaining their powers. Your mother and the rest of the Council are trying to convince them to use up these powers on something good. Something that would benefit the continent, at least. It’s either that or they should agree to be drained. We need to keep the Ninurta hungry. What it takes from us, it can use against us.”
I looked back at the witches. Suddenly, I saw them for what they were. They were not happy. The eyes were sharper, the chatter too fast. They were scared, angry, and confused. Some were shaking their heads in disbelief. They had waited too long for their powers to return that it was a blow to be told that they could not even use them for something they had always wanted to do.
Diana and I were staring at a reservoir of power, something to take from when the Ninurta got hungry again. At the moment, it was satisfied. Full. Brimming. It had its limits. Something must have been feeding it in Arrowspear because it could not have been Metheus. The void cannot take from the void. Because of the storm, my husband was even emptier than he was before. The soil would have cooled, and I was not even there to provide him some heat.
“So, what do you mean by releasing the dam of power?”
“The Earth witches should exhaust themselves every day to care for the soil. Your father, the only water warlock, could assist. The Spirit witches should call upon all the spirits that could help in the fight. The air witches would be gathering in the South to help conjure rain clouds for Leiderman. Meanwhile, the non-elementals should find themselves useful, too.”
“I see nothing wrong with all that,” I said. I knew I could not speak out because people knew that I had never lost my powers. They would think it was easy for me to say that, and I guess it was. The only one who could consume me was Metheus, and he would never harm me.
“I know. However, they see it as a form of control. Some of them are not from Queenspell, as you may have noticed. They will not bow down to your mother even if part of them knows that it is true their powers are being reserved for a greedy god. As for me? I will frequently be using my powers, anyway, as we try to gain insight into what is happening in Arrowspear.”
“And Mother?”
“Your mother’s powers are back. There are no enemies to burn, but she will be using up her heat to cure different ailments. You, on the other hand, need not do that. It seemed that you could not be touched.”
A remnant of Erishkigal. We had hated that ancient witch. For the moment, though, it was better to have been a part of her and be linked to her.
“I wrote a letter to Miranda. Do you think she could help?”
“Miranda’s power is of the dead. While her power cannot be touched by the Ninurta, I doubt she could help you. She will only help our dead gain safe passage into the afterlife.”
I bowed my head, disappointed. Miranda was a demigoddess, Hades’ daughter, and we could not even ask her to help.
“What of Ari of Arrowspear? Why is he here?”
“Him? I thought that he was sent by your husband?” Diana asked, brows furrowed. Then, she turned to where Ari was idly sitting, and recognition dawned on her face.
“Do you see it now? Ari may be an Arrowspear noble, but Metheus does not like him as much as he loves his peasant friends. There is something about him. I do not trust him,” I prattled.
“He came to your chambers?”
It was more of a statement with more emotions than an actual question. Diana, after all, could conjure images in full force now.
“Yes, he did.”
“Do you want me to tell your Mother?”
“No, I want to understand what his game is.”
“Be careful. He seems like a shifty one. I cannot read everything. It was like a dark curtain is wrapped around him, but I saw through some of its holes.”
“Is he more than a seducer, then?” I asked, feeling his hot gaze on me as Diana and I fixed our faces into smiles, pretending to talk about something more pleasant.
