“The enchantment on this piece is… interesting,” Gladir says, his eyes narrowing. “Who would create a spell like this?”
The tone of Gladir’s question and commentary inspires unease to settle in my chest. Interesting can mean a myriad of things.
Many of them less than good.
What kind of old magic enchantment did Celesta design?
“The runes…” Gladir shakes his head in confusion. “They speak of blinding the gods. No…” he shifts his head, as if he’slisteningand no longerstudying.“Not blinding… rendering the godsblindto the wearer.” He lowers the necklace, lifting his face. “Where did you get this?”
“A gift,” I answer. “From my mother.”
“And you want to turn this into a gift of silver?” Gladir asks, wary. “Would you rather not keep it?”
No, the necklace served its purpose.
I’d like to give it to Ryc.
It appears the enchantment Celesta bestowed upon it was never about reuniting my soul with my flesh. Not in any literal sense. It was about being able to move without interference from Netharis. Being hidden from the gods’ view… that’s useless now. They know I’m here.
“If possible, I’d like it to match the band I’ve been given,” I reply as I remove my ring and set it upon the counter.
The glass squeaks as Gladir pushes it toward the wall, the arm contracting. He pauses as his eyes fall upon the counter.
“You’re King Alaryc’s mate?” Wide brown eyes meet mine.
I don’t quite understand how he arrived at such a truth but I nod.
“Nektos and her weaving ways,” he scoffs in disbelief. “She would have it I be asked to forge a mate for the ring I helped create centuries ago.”
My head swivels to Cyran. “Did you know this?”
He shakes his head, the expression on his face as equally bewildered as the one upon mine.
“This was long before the Captain stood in King Alaryc’s service,” Gladir laughs. He picks up the ring, returning it to me. “I still have the drafted plans. I can use those for this.” He lifts the necklace slightly in emphasis.
“Then you’re willing to reforge it?” I ask, slipping the ring onto my finger.
“How can I say no?” Gladir says with a small smile. “I’ve never been one to deny Fate, and at my age, I’m not going to start now.”
?????????????
The delicious heat of the bath sinks into the core of my being, and I loose a long, stress-relieving exhale. Letting my head fall back, I close my eyes as my skin pebbles and I breathe deep.
“Hey,”a voice calls from the bedroom proper. It’s Eve.
“In here,”I call over my shoulder.
She pads into the bathing room.“You’re up early. I expected you to be in bed still.”
She crosses the room, lowering herself to the floor beside the tub. Leaning back, she rests her head upon the lip and stares at the ceiling. I follow her lead in relaxation and let my head fall back.
“What has you awake this early?” she asks.
“The failure to be explicit in my wording,” I reply and she chuckles. “I asked Cyran to bring me to a silversmith to forge Ryc’s gift.”
Her head falls to the side, toward me. Ice blue eyes meet mine.
“You’re really doing this…” she says, her voice soft. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I knew you would. I just… it feels surreal after everything.”
