A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,20
of blood and rage. That had faded now, replaced by exhaustion and shock, but she knew the red mist lurking in the dark places of her mind was still there, a hidden monster veiled in shadow. She had a vague memory of the world freezing at Aphra’s announcement, Kol’s sword hovering, his face twitching. She had felt her breath leave her, the adrenalin of the fight abandoning her, draining her strength and leaving her empty, drooping like a windless sail. Then hands reaching for her, lifting her, half-carrying her to the woodsman’s hut. There was blood under her fingernails, on her clothes, her wings, the stench of it in her nose, the copper tang of it in her mouth. Her body ached, a score of cuts and grazes. A few deeper wounds, like the one Fia was stitching for her. She didn’t care about any of it, hardly felt the pain of Fia’s hooked needle weaving in and out of her flesh. All she could focus on was…
She is our daughter.
Nausea churned in her belly.
Our daughter.
Raised voices outside, angry.
Is that Vald? What are they doing to my friends? Bleda? Jost?
The anger stirred and she half rose from her stool, realized that her wrists were chained behind her back. She snarled, flexed her arms, knew that she could have snapped ropes, but chains…
They just might take me a little longer.
Fia gripped her wrist.
“Please,” Fia whispered. “Wait. Go out there now and you will get us all killed.”
Riv stared at her, took a long, shuddering breath and sat back down, involuntary twitches passing through her wings, an expression of her mood.
The door opened and Aphra walked in, eyes fixed only on Riv.
She is our daughter…
Everything I know is a lie. Aphra, who are you? Are you truly my mother?
Dalmae was her mother, Aphra her sister, whom she had bickered with, admired, loved, fought with, teased, and worshipped more than a little.
Not anymore.
“I am sorry. So sorry,” Aphra said, a tremor in her voice. Tentatively, she reached a hand towards Riv.
Riv flinched away and Aphra’s hand jerked back to her side.
Fia tied off her stitching, bit off the thread, dabbed in some honey and bandaged the wound.
“There is so much to say, to tell you,” Aphra said.
“Aye. Of how you’ve lied to me, all of my life,” Riv grated through locked jaws.
A tear welled in Aphra’s eye, spilt onto her cheek.
“All I’ve done has only ever been to keep you safe,” Aphra whispered.
“Safe? That hasn’t worked out too well,” Riv observed. She pointedly looked at the fresh-stitched wound on her shoulder, the mass of cuts and grazes all over her body, the blood, everywhere. “Mam murdered.” She passed a slow ripple through her furled wings. “Me an abomination, at the top of the execution list.”
The door opened again and Kol entered. A fresh wave of hate and rage swelled in Riv’s chest at the sight of him, a new tension filling the air, the presence of imminent death a palpable thing. Two Ben-Elim followed Kol and remained standing at the door as he limped towards them. Riv felt a moment of satisfaction as she saw one of his eyes was swollen closed and mottled purple with bruising, a scab forming on his lip.
He stood before the table, looking between them. A murmur from the baby in his cot drew Kol’s eyes. Fia took a step, placed herself between Kol and the bairn. Kol stared at Fia a long moment. “Adonai’s child?” he asked.
“He is. His name is Avi,” Fia said defiantly.
“He should be cold and in the ground,” Kol said, a sneer curling his lip as he stared at Fia’s baby. “You knew the price when you joined with Adonai. I made it clear to you.”
“You did,” Fia said, “and I agreed because I was a fool, infatuated with Adonai, blinded by the radiance of you Ben-Elim. I felt I was being loved by a god.”
Kol smiled. “In Elyon’s absence, we are the closest you mortals will ever come to a god.”
His arrogance makes me want to vomit. Or kill him, thought Riv.
“So why have you not fulfilled your part of the bargain?” Kol asked, looking genuinely confused. “You may love us, but consequences such as… this—” Kol gestured—“cannot see the light of day. Israfil would have had our heads, and yours. He may be dead, but there are others amongst the Ben-Elim who share his puritanical ways.”
“Love changed my mind,” Fia said, eyes flickering to Avi and back to Kol.