At least her soul seemed relatively healthy.
“Bondsmith?” Ellowyn’s soft voice held a deep rasp from disuse. I nodded my head quickly before reaching for the cup of water I’d preemptively filled. My throat burned at the memory of my rescue from the Last Matriarch’s camp, dehydrated and near death.
“Drink,” I commanded. “But slowly and not too much, otherwise you’ll risk vomiting.”
The words were so similar to what Torin advised me on the ship bound for Lishahl, only this time, Itanya was tucked away in bed, no doubt cuddling with Folami, who returned hours earlier with a thousand questions swimming in dazed eyes.
One thing at a time.
I had a few minutes alone with Ellowyn before Torin and her brother inevitably joined us—minutes I couldn’t waste thinking about another problem that would need mitigating sooner rather than later.
Ellowyn’s shaky hands grasped the wooden cup, and she slurped loudly as stray rivulets of water escaped her trembling lips and ran down her chin and neck.
She pulled the cup back from her mouth with a satisfied sigh before gently setting it on the bedside table.
“Are you still thirsty?” I asked, eyes cataloging every minor movement. Ellowyn’s lips quirked slightly at the corners as she primly folded her hands on her lap, sharp grey-blue eyes regarding me in the same way.
“Yes, but I can wait.” The rasp was deep in her throat and would fade in time, but the casual imperiousness of her voice was permanent. It seemed that the frightened, caged, barely Awakened girl was dead. In the ashes of her innocence rose a queen, hardened by grief and circumstance, one who would not let my actions in Meru go unquestioned.
I smiled wide, each of my teeth on display, and watched as Ellowyn’s browsquirked down slightly before smoothing once again. Her face was a mask of pure, cold indifference, glinting steel peering back at me.
“You are quite strange, you know that?” she remarked dryly, and I laughed loudly at her observation. “Nothing like your daughter.”
I sobered at that.
No, Faylinn was nothing like me. All soft and caring, too empathetic, much like her father. Perhaps it was the additional mortal blood that flowed through her veins, or that she was raised with no memories by a man who was loving beyond measure. Either way, I was grateful that she was unlike me.
“Faylinn is special,” I said.
“I’m aware.”
Silence hung between us as we brazenly took stock of each other.
“You knew Kaos would come for me,” Ellowyn stated flatly.
I nodded my head once, curls bobbing into my face. “I did.”
“How?”
“That is a secret between gods, Ellowyn, and not something I will share.”
“Come now, Bondsmith,” Ellowyn scoffed. “I am a godling, am I not? That is what you”—she ticked off names on her fingers—“Solace, Kaos,andyour daughter have all insinuated. Surely I can be included in that secret.”
My lips flattened and I shook my head with a sigh, resting my shoulders back against the plush velvet of the armchair. It, like every other piece of furniture in this manor, was cushioned in a blood-red fabric, golden accents adorning the legs and arms.
“I hate the color red, do you know that?” I asked, my tattooed fingers trailing over the offending fabric arms.
Ellowyn blanched and frowned, shaking her head slightly before remembering to slip her mask back in place.
I preened internally at successfully distracting the ice queen enough to see her raw emotions.
Show me the rage, show me the destruction, show me thegodlingbeneath.
She stared silently at me for a moment. I sighed with a roll of my eyes.
“It would be polite to askwhyI hate this color so much, godling,” Ellowyn responded with a low, quiet growl, and I nearly smiled. “Humor me, Ellowyn. It has a purpose.”
With a deep sigh, Ellowyn relaxed further into the propped pillows on the bed.
