“Those are the only choices? No third option?”
What would Valera do?
“I’m not my grandmother.”
You’re more powerful than she is. She instilled in you an appreciation of right and wrong, as well as your sense of honor. She helped form your character, but your powers come from above. You’ve been chosen.
“By whom?”
The Fates, the gods, Destiny—it doesn’t matter.
“Oh, it matters. I want to know who or what to blame for screwing up my life.”
Destiny or a coward’s exit? What is your choice?
“You haven’t given me a choice.”
I most certainly did.The voice sounded offended.
“You tell me that I’ve been chosen to save the world. If I don’t agree, I’ll have to live with my cowardice.” Although, if the world ended, I might not have to live with that shame for long. “In what world is that a choice?”
Pain, suffering, and death. There are plenty who’d choose to walk away. Which do you choose?
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
What?
“You sound impatient, and I’m wondering what your hurry is. Do I have to make this major, life-altering decision this minute?”
Yes!
“Again, what’s your hurry? I mean, I’ve been around for twenty-five years, and saving the world was never a priority.”
The king is hatching plans.
“What kind of plans?”
The kind that will see every woman with power conscripted or killed. Starting with the poorer neighborhoods like Grimswood. The kind that mean girls who haven’t come into their powers yet, like those who live with your grandmother, will end up on their backs with their legs spread for any man who wants them.
“Pain, suffering, and death.” My response was immediate. I needed my head examined.
Grimswood will be ash. Every woman who shows a hint of power will be collared and bred like livestock. Libraries will burn. Temples will be destroyed. And undeclared magic will become a crime punishable by death.
“I get the picture.” The very grim picture.
No, you don’t. But you will. Touch the water.
“Pardon?”
Touch the water.
“Not a handshake?”
Touch the damn water, Haven.
Pleased to annoy Destiny’s messenger (it was the little things), I hesitated. “What’s your name?”
Gladys, she deadpanned.
