Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,102
a persistent warning bell.
The dance concluded to rounds of applause and cheers, giving way to a brief interlude before the next one commenced. The girl ended the kiss slowly, her eyes an open, blatant invitation, and Ken found himself clearing his throat several times. “I’ve been told you have a priestess,” he began.
“She has been good to us. Her granddaughter is to wed on the morrow, the poor girl.”
“Poor girl?”
“On account of her doom. Mam says that there are only two kinds of people who receive dooms—the ones who shall be terrible, and the ones who shall be great.” She flashed him an alluring smile. “I am neither, but I am glad to be ordinary.”
“There is no way in hell,” said Ken, “that you are just ‘ordinary.’”
“My name’s Iniko. When the dancing is over, I’ll be waiting by She of the One Hand.” She pointed to the tall statue.
“She of the One Hand?”
“She fought her own evil brother and saved a kingdom, though she sacrificed much in the process. Her name has long been lost to time, but her legend has not been forgotten. I can tell you more of our stories later. Among other things, if you wish.” Iniko giggled at her temerity before dashing off to join a covey of girls, who whispered among themselves, glanced at Kensington, and giggled some more.
A group of matriarchs frowned in his direction, not liking the girls’ new fancy. Wisely, Ken decided that some distance, for now, was in order. He grinned back at Iniko—she reddened, for all her previous boldness—then disappeared quickly into the crowd. Every girl he’d danced with so far had been very evasive about their priestess, and even more so about her granddaughter. They were celebrating the upcoming nuptials, but it felt like most pitied the bride.
Ken figured that the Dame had wanted them in Ikpe to meet its priestess. If Zoe had been there, she would have pointed out in her clear, logical way, that he could have come to that conclusion without needing to dance with the girls, but where was the fun in that?
He spotted Loki several minutes later, nearly hidden behind a thin coppice. Loki looked disconcerted for once, a white rose dangling loosely behind their ear. They were cornered by a lovely, slim waif of a girl barely taller than their shoulder. From time to time, Loki would reach up and slowly take the rose out of their hair. Almost immediately, the girl would reach forward, pluck the flower from their grasp, and then put it back, the resolute look on her face telling them this was where it belonged.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts,” the girl purred, oblivious to Ken’s approach. “Where did the frost sweep you in from? The Scythian borders? The Albion heartlands?”
“I’m an outlander,” Loki said, honest and wary, their eyes darting around for a way out.
The girl was undaunted. “If outlanders are all as handsome as you, it’s a shame more have not breached the Avalon barriers. Why don’t we wander over to that house on my right, and we can talk about the differences between your outlander customs and mine?”
“Where’ve you been, Wagner?” Ken broke in, stepping into the clearing just as Loki began to look particularly desperate. The girl shot him a dirty glare.
“You’re going to be in a lot of trouble when Edna catches you, you know. Pardon me, miss,” he said to the still-fuming girl, selecting a girl’s name at random. “My friend here’s been hitched to Edna only a week, but they always did have a hard time remembering. I would, in their place.”
“Married?” Loki echoed.
“Married?” the girl echoed.
“To the damn strongest girl this side of Avalon.” The girl fidgeted. “She’s at the inn right now, arm wrestling the patrons into submission, into oblivion, into all sorts of -ions. Strong lady. Chopped down half a tree with her bare hands once, when she’d caught them making out with some other girl, Bridgen, wasn’t that her name? You saw the mess Edna made of Bridgen, Sun-Wagner, you really want to do that all over again? I mean, this one’s pretty enough, but so was that last one before Edna grounded her down to compost.”
“What are you…?” Loki began, but the ruse worked. The girl backed away, eyes wide, before turning to flee.
“You’re welcome. She would have chased you all the way to Lyonesse if I hadn’t stepped in.”
“What just happened?”
“You’ve obviously never met a village girl before. I grew up on a