“Take it as a quest for the virtue of patience.” Briony’s saccharine voice reaches my ears before she appears in my periphery.
Naturally, I startle.
“The ocean can be serene as easily as it can be tumultuous,” she says, as if I hadn’t nearly jumped out of my skin. “Beneath its surface is an entire unseen world—filled with both danger and beauty.”
I turn toward her, my brows cinched. “What in hells are you rambling about, Briony?”
To my surprise, she laughs. It’s lighthearted, like a bird’s song way too early in the morning. “You tell me.”
My eyes are in danger of falling out of my head for how hard I roll them. “You truly aresucha priestess at times, you know?”
She shrugs and pushes her sandy brown hair over her shoulder.
“Briony, you never explained to me how you’re a high priestess of Lugdaanda Healer. The two don’t seem compatible.”
“I know. You’d be surprised how many things in life that seem incompatible are actually interconnected.”
“Gods, please stop speaking in riddles. I don’t have the … virtue for this.”
She smiles. “Alright, fair enough.” She folds her arms atop the rail and gazes out at the blue-green water as though it holds all the answers. “Most know Lugda as the god of death but forget that he’s also the god of fate. The Underworld has been portrayed as an awful place where the ill-hearted are punished in the afterlife, but Lugda is merciful and grants benevolent souls a place of rest in paradise. As a Healer, part of my role was making a person’s last days, last moments, as peaceful as possible. I consider it ushering suffering souls into the waiting arms of Lugda. Or as some believe, into the arms of Rhianu, the Mother, who then escorts them to Lugda’s realm.”
I let her words sink in. She says it with such conviction, I want to believe her. “What do you think of the Seer’s talk of the death of the gods? Since you’re best friends with Lugda, where in hells are these bloody gods anyway?”
Briony makes a tiny sound like a half laugh, half sigh. “It’s been quite the mystery, but believe it or not, I’ve been visited on more than one occasion by the god of death.”
A chill runs along my spine.
“I’ve felt his presence when patients have passed on. I’ve heard his voice guiding me, I’ve seen him in dreams, seen other restless souls wandering the realm of the living.”
“Is that … normal for a priestess? One of Lugda, at least?”
“No.”
“I suppose that’s what makes youhighPriestess.”
She nods, though she doesn’t seem at all prideful about it.
Sighing, I rub my hand over the short-cropped parts of my hair. Everything about the gods is bewildering. Larger waves lap against the boat, making it lurch and my stomach roil. I distract myself with another question for Briony. “I understand what you mean when you speak of ushering souls to the Underworld and all of that—eerie, by the way—but how do you have healing powers? Aren’t those typically granted by Ehlach? Moon magic and all of that? I’d have expected Lugda’s gifts to be shadow wielding.”
“Isn’t Durvla the daughter of Dusk? Dusk refers to Ehlach, yet, as far as we know, she possesses no healing powers, only dreamwalking and dreamweaving.”
My brain hurts.
“The Veil between the Underworld and the Realm of Dreams is thin. Ehlach, Sunlagh, and Lugda—Moon, Dreams, and Death—were once thick as thieves. The lines are blurred in many ways. Things aren’t just black and white when it comes to the gods or to magic.”
“Obviously.” My shoulders slump. It would be wonderful ifsomethingcould be clear.
“No need to look so forlorn,” a deep voice says from behind me.
My heart leaps and I inwardly curse myself for the response.
“I’m here now. You can smile again.”
“Gods, you’re insufferable …” I mumble, refusing to turn to Odgar.
“Insufferably handsome? Insufferably charming?”
I face him. He leans against the mast, his arms crossed, tunic sleeves pulling taught and straining. He’s not wearing his leather armor, and his tunic clings to him in places. I swear his muscles have muscles. My mouth goes a bit dry.
