Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,98
Igraine. Her chest rose and fell, her mouth moved with the words. But this voice was deep, sonorous, and gently brushed with an accent Shins had never heard.
Never heard, but knew all the same.
“Olgun…?”
Igraine—Olgun—smiled to shame the sun. “We both know that I can hear you when you speak so softly, but there is no reason to—oof!”
Shins slammed into him, arms wrapped desperately tight around him, and sobbed into his chest.
Only when she felt fingers running so very softly through her hair did she begin to calm—and only when she heard the soft but resonant sounds of a god softly weeping with her did she pull herself together and take a step back.
“I have to confess,” she said, sniffling and quickly wiping a hand across her nose, “this is really not how I pictured you.”
His laughter seemed too large for reality, felt as though it couldn't possibly be coming from Igraine's slender form. Finally, when he'd calmed, “It is a new outfit I am trying on.”
Her turn, then, to laugh; no mere chuckle, as before, but real laughter. She felt a hundred times lighter. “Gods, there's so much I want to talk to you about. So much…”
She petered out as Olgun's expression sobered. He didn't need to say anything; she knew.
“How long do we have?” she asked with a quiet hitch.
“I am sorry, Adrienne. Only a few minutes. It would require longer than that for me to explain why, so let us say only that it is to do with the natural laws of divinity, along with a desire not to cause any harm to Igraine.”
“Then why?” She knew it was a childish, bitter question, unworthy of either of them, yet she couldn't help but ask it. “Why even come back? What's the point?”
“To see you,” he said kindly. “And because you saved me. So many times, in so many ways. I could not go without saying good-bye.”
The rooftop grew blurry again as Shins struggled, and failed, to keep from tearing up yet again. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.”
“No.” This time it was he who stepped up to her, he who embraced her. “You do not need to apologize to me. Not ever. I do not believe a god has ever owed so much to any one mortal. We are all grateful for it, the whole of the Pact. Although none other so much as I.”
“Even Cevora?” she sniffled, trying to smile.
“Even he. A savage and ambitious god, yes, but his Acolyte went much too far in his madness. Cevora would never deign to offer apologies to a mortal, but I believe he truly regrets.”
A nod, another sniffle.
“I have to depart soon, Adrienne.”
“No!” Again she clutched at him, hard, even as she struggled to calm herself. “I mean, I know you do, I…Olgun, please. Please stay.”
“I cannot. Oh, dear one, I truly cannot.”
It came out a whisper, nothing more. “I don't want to be alone.”
The god in mortal flesh stepped back, so he might look at her, and she at him, even as he kept a tight hold on her shoulders. “You will never be alone. Not ever.
“You have spoken to Igraine, to Ancel, to William. You know that our priests have a connection with us. They are favored by chance. They receive word through signs and omens. And we speak to them in dreams.”
“I'm not a priest!” she squealed.
The god laughed once more. “Amusing as it would be to see you try, no, you are not. But I can grant you as much. You are strong, fast, already, if less than you were. After our years together, I think you always will be. And I shall always watch over you, as though you were my highest priest. I will grant you what luck I can, and I will visit, on occasion, in your dreams.”
Better than nothing, perhaps, but it wasn't enough, not nearly. “It won't ever be the same, though, will it?”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Nothing ever is.”
Olgun's—Igraine's—eyelids trembled. “It is time,” he said.
“I know. Olgun, thank you.”
“No. Thank you. And Adrienne…I love you, too.”
Shins stared into what she knew to be Igraine's eyes. Olgun was gone.
The priestess said not a word, only offered Widdershins a brief hug of her own before turning away and disappearing back across the rooftop.
Widdershins turned, too, striding up to the very edge. From there she could see Davillon, bustling along as though it were just another day. The sky remained choked with clouds, but it felt as though there