AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I suppose that can be expected when our history has been twisted to make everyone believe the Gods have been reclusive instead of gone.
Each journal contains what seems to be a riddle. Their placement in the journal, right at the end, with no entries behind them, leads me to believe these riddles are the key to ending the banishment that the Gods are under. I just have to figure them out.
I'm trying not to let the pressure of being the Shadowweaver's high priest overwhelm me, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't weighing on me. I'msure she'd say it isn't my responsibility alone to figure these things out, but it feels like it is. Like I am the only person who can do this.
What good am I if I cannot be the priest she needs me to be?
The dining hall is empty, the cook banging around the galley as he begins to prepare dinner. A throat clearing in front of me has me looking up into the clear blue eyes of Tulip Goldtide. She looks tired, the corners of her eyes downturned. I know she's been tending to Morrow, who is no doubt struggling with his loss of limb, but I wonder if she is taking care of herself as well.
"Can I sit?" she asks. I nod, stacking up the journals as she slides onto the bench across from me. "Find anything good?"
"I think so," I say, stretching my arms above my head and shaking out my rigid muscles. "I think I found the riddles they've hidden the rituals in."
She nods her head too quickly. "Good, good." Tulip looks around nervously, wringing her hands. "Look, Zeph, about my secrets…" Nerves drip off of her in a way that makes her appear every bit her eighteen years.
I hold up my hand, cutting off her worry. "I have no intention of sharing them."
Her shoulders slump, relief trickling down her spine as it relaxes. "Really?"
"Really. Sharing them with anyone with the intent of showing your devotion is enough." I push my still-full mug of ale to Tulip, and she drains it. Kira gave it to me, and I didn't have the heart to tell her I don't drink anymore. The woman is kind, but Ido worry that if I cross her, she'll throw me overboard. I steel myself with a deep breath for what I know I need to say next. "But you should tell him."
She shakes her head rapidly, hair flying around wildly. "I cannot and will not, thank you very much."
I reach across the table for her hands, then think better of it and pull mine back to my side of the table. "I'm not sure why it needs to be a secret, Tulip. Morrow clearly cares for you. Is it not a good thing that you care for him too?"
"Zeph," she says sadly, "you know as well as I do loving someone in this world right now is asking for hurt. I cannot put either of us through that. He is looking for his partner, his equal, and that is not me." The defeat that lines her face breaks my heart. She is so young, yet so jaded. I know that her experience in this world has not been great so far, and I certainly play a part in that, but I had hoped she could maintain her sunny disposition.
"He thinks you could be," I remind her. "You don't want to discount how he feels."
"A fae and a human will not work, Zeph."
"Viola and Mace ha-"
She slaps her hand on the table, interrupting me. "I am not Viola, Zeph! I cannot put him through that. He will live for five of my lifetimes. He will see me grow old while he stays exactly as he is now." Tulip stands up, wrapping her arms around her waist. For one fleeting moment, her face breaks, and I can see the sad, scared young woman who has been shoved beneath this hardened exterior. "I'm not telling him. I just needed to makesure you wouldn't either."
The warm orange glow of the sconces in the square room provides just enough light for me to read. These journals are tying my brain up in knots, and I need to be able to present something to everyone tomorrow before we reach the Cliffs. Perched on the end of the lumpy, threadbare bed with my legs crossed, I balance the journal of the Spring high priest on my knee, willing the letters to swirl around on the page and give me the answer to a question that has yet to reveal itself to me.
Morrow opens the door and stands in front of me, body vibrating and his attitude demanding my attention.
"Stand up, Zeph."
I put the book aside and groan as I stand up, face to face with Morrow. "What do you need, Morrow?"
His fist connects with my eye and sends me back onto the bed. He stumbles, not accounting for how his balance may differ without his left arm, and then stares me down.
"What the fuck, Morrow?" I say, gingerly touching my eye. It's already feeling puffy and warm, the ache throbbing with my heartbeat.
"Tell me why Tulip came back from seeing you with tears in her eyes, Zeph?"
Taking a few deep breaths, I try to calm myself down. "I cannot tell you something said to me in confidence."
He leans down, crowding me, his posture urging me to scuttle away from him on the bed. His voice is measured as he spits his vitriol. "You've been here acting like nothing happened. Like you weren't a drunk willing to kill an innocent human just to get what you want. You're blaming it all on the draw."
"Where is this coming from, Morrow? Why do you suddenly have a problem with me now, Morrow?" I ask, pushing myself off the bed and moving chest to chest with him. "You've shown no outward sign of dislike since I've returned."
His mouth opens as he tries to speak, but he looks more like a fish, jaw opening and closing as his brain tries to catch up to his body. But then he deflates, his body sagging onto the bed. It's then that I realize this truly isn't about me. "I can't protect her." His voice is quiet and broken, his eyes downcast, hidden behind his veil of braids. "When I first saw her, after that bullshit you pulled, she was so broken, so scared. I promised myself immediately that she would never feel that way again."
I don't need to ask who 'she' is. It's clear. And there is no doubt what brought on this show of aggression that he just performed for me.
