plan.” His voice is clipped. I’d been expecting him to shout, I can see the anger and frustration in his expression, but he’s really attempting to tone it back. Why? Because he saw my fear? Why would he care? As if on cue, the strange, pulling bond between us pulses, and from the widening of his eyes, I know he felt it too.
So many questions. I wish I had answers, that I knew what to do, but I don’t. So, I do the only thing I can. Taking a deep breath, I drop to my knees, close my eyes, and pray.
“Great Mother, I pray you hear me, guide me. What should I do?”
I can hear him moving around me, and the sound of the fire crackling in the forge, but I block them out, focusing on that place inside me where the Goddess seems to reside. Her presence immediately floods my body, and I feel the vastness of her love for me. It’s overwhelming. That capacity for unconditional love is something I don’t understand. Why now? Why has the Mother decided to show herself to me only in the last few weeks? Is it because she needs me to perform this task for her? I still don’t even know exactly what I will need to do, only that I need to stay with Grayson. I shouldn’t question Her, but I’ve learned the hard way that kindness isn’t free.
I have always been here, my beloved.
Her voice echoes in my head, and images start to flash through my mind. That little push, the instinct that would tell me not to take a certain corridor, or to wait an extra couple of minutes before walking back to the slave quarters—that had all been Her protecting me. I should feel embarrassed I had doubted her, but she soothes the thought away. A feeling floods through my system, and I know what we need to do.
The Goddess’s presence fades, and I open my eyes. I don’t know how much time has passed, it feels like only minutes, but I’m sure it was longer since I see Vaeril over by the forge, working on a new piece of weaponry. I don’t move, but he seems to know I’ve finished praying, his eyes flicking over to where I kneel. As he meets my gaze, he puts down whatever he was working on, his stare unwavering.
Pushing up from the floor, I brush off my skirt. It’s ripped and tattered around the hem from when I was dragged around by the guards earlier, so I don’t know why I try to save it—habit, I suppose, because you have to make clothing last as long as possible as a slave. I walk over to the work bench and come to a stop on the other side. I’m opposite Vaeril, the bench acting as a buffer between us.
“You pray.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. He pauses and seems to mull over something. “And did your Goddess answer?”
My eyebrow shoots up at the inquiry. “You know about the Great Mother?”
He snorts, a slight glint of humour lighting his eyes, but it’s gone after a second and I think I’ve imagined it. “I’ve been trapped here for over a hundred years, and those guards are not exactly quiet.” He inclines his head towards the closed door, where even I can hear the murmurings of male voices without the benefit of his supernatural hearing. Shock floods my system. Over a hundred years. I’d known this already, but it always surprises me. My eyes run over him as I try to judge his age. He doesn’t appear any older than mid-thirties at the latest, but his looks make it difficult to judge. “Besides, we know of your Goddess, she’s in our teachings,” he continues, interrupting my musings and surprising me once again. Filing that information away for a later date, I make a note to ask about how he knows of my Goddess.
He picks up the item he’d been working on and twists it in his hands, holding it up to the light as he assesses it with a critical eye. This whole situation is surreal. Here we are, having a chat, and he’s working on weapons for our captors as if we aren’t plotting our escape with our impending deaths hanging over us. However, I can see the tension in his shoulders and around his eyes. He’s as stressed as I am.
“You learn a lot if you pay attention,” he murmurs,