The Courier exhales a white cloud sweetened by clove. “What can you offer me?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Come now. Surely there’ssomethingyou’re adept at?”
Lady Clarisse would claim I haven’t the experience, nor the title, to tout my expertise, but I don’t necessarily share that viewpoint anymore. “As it turns out, I am a bit of a talent when it comes to herbology.”
“Herbology.” He looks me up and down. “Like plants and such?”
“Yes. For healing.” In the fringe of my vision, a patron jostles our table, clearly inebriated. I wait until he stumbles off before continuing. “Is there something you would like mended or restored?”
The deity taps a finger against his glass of ale. The tavern could use a fresh coat of paint, but at least the glasses are clean—mostly. “My wife is with child. I’m worried it will be a difficult birth. What are my options?”
“That depends. Are you looking for a calming agent when she goes into labor, or a tea that offers strength when it flags? I’ve also a remedy that will provide additional nutrients for the unborn child.” Nan notated an entire section related to childbirth inThe Practice of Herbal Remedies, her calligraphy precise and clean.
The Courier contemplates his decision while dragging on his pipe. That he is willing to try my remedies, having never heard of me before, gives me hope there is room enough for my healing teas in St. Laurent. “What would you recommend?”
“The strength tea sounds like it would help. It will take a few days to create, but I will return once it is complete.”
The Courier opens his arms, a king amongst his subjects. “Then I await your return, mortal.”
I exchange the smoky tavern for the dry autumn air of the city proper. That is now two deities aware of my abilities. I only pray the information does not make it back to Eurus. But it felt meaningful, I realize, helping someone else. Using my skillset forgood.
I take a longer route to the palace, cutting through one of the public gardens. Interlocking leaves enfold me in utter quiet, drawing forth those particularly intrusive thoughts. The East Wind, whom I have successfully avoided thinking about these past three nights—or so I tell myself.
I’m not certain whether I’m avoiding him or he’s avoiding me. Eurus is gone before the sun rises and does not return until the stars appear, if he returns at all. When eve cloaks the world, I lie awake in bed, door cracked open, listening for the rustle of his wings, the cadence of his gait. I wish for space. I wish for company. Neither brings me peace.
And if he were to enter my bedroom, what then? He kissed me, yes, but I am not so foolish to believe there was any deeper sentiment to the gesture. It was but a moment of comfort exchanged between mortal and god. And yet, I think of it: the scrape of his stubbled cheek, the spice of his breath as it stirred the hair floating near my ear.
I quicken my pace, traversing a small footbridge that arches over a burbling brook. Regardless of who, exactly, is avoiding who, Eurus and I need to discuss the next steps. The final trial is in five days. Then? The victor’s banquet, a poisoned Council of Gods. The timing could not be better. Eastern Blood is nearly complete.
And after? Home. But what that will look like is something I have avoided analyzing for any length of time. Her ladyship expects a speedy reply, and I do not want to disappoint her. But the thought ofgiving her more information that will be used against the East Wind hooks into my insides.
By the time I reach the palace, perspiration dots my skin, and I dab my forehead as I veer toward the kitchen. Though Eurus is probably out, I do not wish to tempt fate at this hour by returning to the suite. My emotions concerning the East Wind are painfully turbulent.
Outfitted in a flowing cotton dress and having gathered her hair in a messy knot atop her head, Demi busies herself chopping vegetables. A pot boils on the stove. It smells of garlic and sage.
“Good afternoon, Demi.”
Her head snaps up. Heat reddens her cheeks, and perhaps the knowledge of being caught in the kitchen once more. “Min, hello to you.” After wiping her hands on her apron, she adds the vegetables to the pot. It bubbles over, hissing as liquid hits flame, and the goddess swears, moving the pot toward a cooler area of the stove. “How do you feel about soup for lunch?”
In answer, I grab an apron, joining Demi at the counter. Even without her heels, the goddess is still ridiculously tall. At this point, my presence in the kitchen feels like second nature. I can almost imagine Nan standing over my shoulder, gently guiding me in preparing my first dish of fermented cabbage.
Spices have been laid out, all the colors of a painter’s palette. We work in tandem, silent but for the simmering liquid and delicate birdsong tumbling through the open window. Once the vegetables have finished cooking, Demi sets the pot aside to cool.
“Something is different about you.” She scrutinizes me, her eyes threatening to pry back whatever shield surrounds me. “You seem…” Yet she trails off, properly stumped.
I shrug with all the nonchalance I can muster, then proceed to sort through the spices. “There is much to celebrate. Eurus made it to the third trial, which means he is one step closer to winning, and I am one step closer to returning home.”
Though I pray Demi will drop the subject, I should know better than to dangle a sweet before a child and not expect them to snatch for it.
“No.” She shakes her head, tugging at her lower lip in thought. “That’s not it. There’s something about your face. You’re blushing.” And suddenly, all is made known. Demi’s eyes pop. “You and Eurus didn’t…” She gestures vaguely. “You know.”
My face grows so hot I would not be surprised were it to crumble to ash. “N-no, of course not. H-he’s my… well… it would be extremely inappropriate, not to mention odd, considering he’s holding me captive until this bargain is fulfilled and—”
“You are not a very good liar, Min from Marles.” That smile pulls wide, wide, wide. “I believe you when you say you haven’t lain with Eurus, but there are other ways to share intimacy besides with one’s body.”
I’m well aware. My experience with men might be limited to only a single sweetheart, but I have learned enough. “We kissed,” I whisper.
