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"Shadowweaver, then," I say around of mouth of bread. "I guess that's my official title."
The tavern is filling up with people, so I take the time to really enjoy what a beautiful building it is. High ceilings with exposed beams open up to the second floor, which is only about half of the building. From what I've seen, it's only sleeping rooms up there. Sconces line the walls, and the orange glow of the fire and the light crackling of it create a nice ambiance. The people here look healthy and happy, their clothing beautiful and varied.
When things calm down, I could see myself spending time here. There are even families with small children here.
"Should we do a speech?" Mace asks, garnering my attention. "Let them know the Race is over, what our goal is, that sort of thing?"
"Quade, what do you think?" I ask the proprietor, who seems to stick close to us despite the other people at the bar. A small woman with dark hair and eyes flits about taking orders and bringing drinks in his stead.
He rubs his chin and shrugs. "I mean, it's not a bad idea. You said she needs support, right?" Mace nods. "Then yeah, worth a shot." He cups his hands around his mouth. "Oy! You lot! Listen up. Got some people that need to talk to you, and you're gonna listen because they're good people, and they're telling the truth, alright?"
The tavern grows quieter, all of them turning towardsQuade. "I didn't mean right this second," I mutter under my breath. But without me having to say anything, Zeph rises to his feet and turns to address the crowd.
We watch on as Zeph expertly weaves the tale of how we ended up where we are today. The openness and honesty in his voice have all of the patrons captivated. It's obvious in moments when finding out the truth about the Gods hurts people, and he delivers the news gently and with grace. The truth of the Race, the plans of Himureal, and the reality of our land all come falling out of Zeph's lips in a raw display of piousness.
Watching him, it's obvious that this was what Zeph was meant to do. He is just as enigmatic of a speaker as Mace, and his calm demeanor quiets the crowd. As he speaks, it's like I'm getting a boost of energy, my body waking up.
"We have been working to bring the other Gods back and work with them to push the Frostweaver out for good. He is no longer serving the best interests of Krillium but instead himself. To replace him, the Shadowweaver has risen. She possesses the magic of Winter, Summer, and Autumn and soon will possess the magic of Spring. She is a God worth supporting and believing in, and she will guide us on the path to peace and prosperity."
He crosses in front of Plume and Mace and takes my hand, pulling me from my stool. The touch jolts my skin, and I feel my powers surging. All eyes are on the two of us, and I wonder what they see. Zeph looks more put together than the rest of us, with his well-groomed beard, blue shirt, and olive trousers. And then there is me, my white hair pulled back in a braid, my handscovered in lines of decay reminiscent of lightning bolts, and my travel-worn clothes close to falling apart.
And yet still their eyes are on the two of us, our hands clasped. Zeph leans down and whispers, "Do you feel that?" in my ear. "There is already belief for you in this room. Say something. Show them who you are."
I look at all of the people and try to count them quickly. A glance over my shoulder shows me that Huck and another man have come out of the kitchen, Quade and the woman assisting him have frozen, and some twenty people in the tavern are still riveted on Zeph and me.
"This type of thing is hard for me," I tell them honestly. "And I must admit, I am a little rusty. I've had a trying few weeks." I chuckle wryly, then compose myself again. "I was a human from Dalery, and I won the Race this year. That was the last Race anyone will run." Wide eyes greet me at that statement, and I push on. "What Zeph says is true. I hope I can be a God you can believe in. I truly am just trying to do right by the land that raised me. All I can ask is for you to believe in me."
I picture snow falling from the ceiling, and it does, drifting lazily through the air toward the tables amid gasps from the patrons. I conjure a small ball of fire into my left hand, and in my right, I pluck a flower from the arrangement on a table in front of me and let it decay in my grasp.
Zeph puts his hand on my back, and it feels like power is flooding my veins. The fire jumps in size, the snow comes down quicker, and the flower turns to dust in my palm. "They believe in you," he whispers in my ear. "Just like I do."
Chapter 16
Himureal, the Frostweaver
She is gone.
She is gone.
She is gone.
She is gone.
Chapter 17
Mace
Iclose the door to the room after our eventful dinner, looking at Viola, who is perched on the edge of the bed.
I want to be furious at her for leaving me, but I can't find the energy. She looks exhausted. Broken.
If anyone is good at faking that they're okay, it's Viola Mistflow, and it appears that's what she has been doing. Deep dark circles have taken up residence under her eyes, which are normally stormy but currently are as dull as a worn blade as she stares at the bare but clean room we are sleeping in tonight. She looks thin. Two weeks of living in a cell has not allowed her to use her muscles as she is used to, and it's caught up with her. I have no doubt she'll build her strength back quickly, but it must be tough for her.
She already felt so out of place in her body.
I sink down next to her on the bed, the soft red linens sliding under my hands. "Do you want to talk about what happened there?"
She sighs and turns to face me, eyes tired. "He promised an asshole he could marry me." Something akin to a growl escapes me, but Viola places a hand on my chest gently. "He felt bad about it, I thinkbecause he told me the man was the one who killed my parents and that his death was a present for me."
