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Void
Verve winced as her needle bit into her thumb, then sucked on her wound before any blood could fall on the cloth. Although, a few drops of blood could hardly make her clumsy embroidery attempts any worse. As it turned out, sewing hematite beads onto her old gear was very different from embroidering leaves and flowers. Although… a bloodstain or two might have made the handkerchief more interesting.
“What are you grinning at?” Ivet said from beside her, enjoying a steaming cup of tea. “Something sinister, I imagine.”
But there was only warm affection in the older woman’s voice. Verve turned the little round wooden frame with the cloth stretched over it so Ivet could see the misshapen flowers. “I’m mutilating this fabric.”
Ivet chuckled. “Bah. I’ve seen worse.”
They sat together outside the Willow, on a couple of rocking chairs that Hadiya had set on the boardwalk. The village had come together, as they often did, for a shared midday meal, but afterward, most folks had stuck around the tavern. Berel and Klaret sat opposite Ivet and Verve, drinking tea and speaking quietly. Hadiya, Nori, and Dannel had gathered outside Dannel’s home, discussing the state of the dock that led to his house — apparently some of the wood planks needed replacing. Kyon, in his antelope form, carried a happily shrieking Kinneret and Lio on his back—carefully and under Ivet’s watchful eye—around the village’s center. Owen and Alem were off foraging for some herbs that refused to grow in Alem’s garden.
The sky was a brilliant blue, with only the occasional puffy white clouds drifting peacefully over their heads. Verve had a full belly and almost everyone she loved was within her senses.
She toyed with the spool of green thread, searching again for Alem. He and Owen were out of sight, but she could sense them not far off, in the forests around Pilgrim Springs.
“Is he all right?” Ivet asked.
A flush of heat on her cheeks brought Verve back to the moment. “He’s well. They’ve had some luck finding that sassafras.”
Ivet smiled. “Good lads.” She sipped from her mug of tea. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around your abilities. Does Alem know you can keep track of him when he’s out of your sight?”
Her words were too nonchalant to be casual. Verve kept her own reply equally calm — a feat, given how the thought of sharing sensations with Alem made her warm all over. “He finds it a terribly practical use of my new talents.”
Ivet chuckled, but her expression grew more solemn. “Otherwise, have you found any signs of danger?”
Atal’s fullness had come and gone, with no sign of Danya or her Chosen. Now, as the waxing crescent of Seren hung in the sky, Verve could almost let herself believe that Danya truly thought her dead.
Almost.
That quiet murmur of doubt had kept Verve awake many nights since her near-death at Legion’s hands. And although she’d done her damned best to shore up Lotis’s defenses—and prepare its inhabitants for imminent danger—she could not shake the churning in her stomach whenever she thought of Danya.
Again, Verve searched for a trace of danger: a flicker of anger, a sense of violence, even the curious but weary mind of some errant traveler. Again, she found nothing, which was in some ways worse. Her stomach twisted and her fingers could only stroke the cloth in her hand.
“No,” Verve said at last, glancing at Ivet. “Perhaps I should pay Danya a visit.”
Ivet went still, but only briefly. “And do what, exactly?”
Best not think about that, now. “I must get to her first,” Verve said. “Or else she’ll come for me. Or, rather,” she added a little too sharply, “she’ll come for Damaris.”
Ivet sighed. “I never cared for that name, to be honest. Alem’s a good lad, but naive, at times. Still, I’ve benefited from their reputation. We all have.”
Her gaze flitted to the roof of the Tipsy Willow, where one of the strange metal rods stood out against the blue sky. Verve frowned. “Alem started the rumor, didn’t he? Is there even a real Marea Damaris?”
“No,” Ivet replied. “From what I understand, mages in the Damaris family stick to the coastline. There’s no one by that name here.” Ivet stared into the depths of her tea. “But your Danya would want Alem for his magic, regardless.”
“She’ll not have him,” Verve said firmly.
“How long have you known Marea Damaris was just a tale?” Ivet asked.
Verve unraveled another length of thread and worked it through the needle’s eye. “Wasn’t that hard to figure out. Besides, I know who Alem is. That’s all that matters to me.”
Ivet patted her knee. “I knew I liked you, vidahem.”
Alem’s sudden shock ripped through Verve like lightning. Before she knew what was going on, she was up and racing through the village, making a beeline for the forest, for Alem and Owen, who were unprotected. Ivet called after her, but Verve didn’t hear the other woman’s words. She had no time to go for her weapons—hell, she didn’t even have shoes on—but she still wore her wire bracelet. But even if she’d been naked, she’d still have gone after him.
Her bare feet sloshed through the marsh, but she hardly noticed the wet. Her heart drummed with Alem’s fear — no, his terror. Owen was afraid, too, and his fear strengthened with each moment, like the swell of heat from a blazing campfire. Verve reached the woods and darted down the now-familiar paths, praying to the One god with each step. Please, keep them safe. Please, let me reach them in time.
As she went, she tried to sense what they were afraid of, but found only a blank spot in her mind, like something had blotted out the stars. But it didn’t matter. She’d find whatever it was, and it would bother no one else again.
