Vassal by Sterling D'Este (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

It would be safer for everyone if Alphonse shared her tent with Delyth. Perhaps they could keep Enyo from further violence with the warrior standing guard? What a blessing that would be. It was nice to think someone would watch over her, make sure she didn’t wander off to dance naked in a river somewhere under the moonlight.

Something purred within her at the thought, and Alphonse sighed. “I was joking…” she muttered to the sickness within.

Glancing at Etienne, she knew he could see the relief and gratitude in her features before she turned to Delyth, and with little warning, flung her arms around the warrior priestess in a tight hug. It was cumbersome as they were both seated and side by side, but Alphonse managed it all the same.

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Delyth started in surprise at Alphonse’s sudden hug, but only a beat passed before she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around the girl’s slender body and pressing her cheek to the crown of Alphonse’s head. Past her, Etienne watched, stiff and uncomfortable, but he said nothing. Perhaps he had seen something in Alphonse’s face that kept him silent now.

Gods, it had been a long time since Delyth had hugged someone. Had touched anyone at all except in passing. But she pulled away after a moment more, clearing her throat. “We should all sleep. It has been a hard day. And tomorrow, we have ground to catch up.”

Alphonse nodded and stood up, brushing her skirts out, so any debris or dirt she had picked up fell off. She placed a hand on Etienne’s shoulder before turning to disappear into her— well. Their tent.

Delyth waited until the rustling of clothing could no longer be heard and stood to follow her. Etienne stood as well.

“Don’t…” He seemed to struggle with what he meant to say, his voice low so that Alphonse wouldn’t hear. “Don’t overstep. Don’t touch her or hurt her or—or—” He cut off, but Delyth knew what he meant.

“I’m only here to protect her.”

She turned towards the tent and pricked a finger on her glittering, folded-steel dagger so that she could ink a protection ward into the fabric of the tent. It was such a tiny amount of blood, but Delyth still moved past it quickly.

At least now she would wake if anyone entered or left the tent.

Carefully, Delyth settled herself beside Alphonse, tucking her wings in to take up as little space as possible.

“Goodnight,” she whispered into the dark.

“Goodnight,” Alphonse whispered back, her voice warm and faint. It nearly sounded as if she were smiling, if that was possible after such a terrible day. She pulled her blankets over her shoulders tightly and closed her eyes. Quickly, her breathing changed to the slow, deep breaths of sleep, her body limp and heavy beside Delyth.

It seemed tonight, at least, Enyo would sleep too.

For some time, Delyth’s eyes glittered in the dark while she listened to Alphonse’s breath even out. Finally, after she was sure the girl waswelland truly asleep, she allowed herself to drift off.

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Excerpt from the Journal of Etienne d’Etoiles

Fifth Moon of the Year 1819, just south of the Brig’ian Mountains

It has been ten days since Alphonse and I began traveling with the priestess, Delyth, and though I still believe that the decision to keep in her company was hastily made, I cannot deny that she has been useful. The three of us have fallen into a routine of sorts, based around keeping Enyo sated and out of control.

While the process of discovering those factors most likely to bring Enyo to the forefront has been arduous in extreme, I feel as though we have made decent progress. It helps to think of the Enyo/Alphonse dichotomy in the light of an experiment, to catalog cause and effect for trends. Therefore, I will include, for the sake of easy reference, a list of the factors most likely to bring the Goddess forth:

Factors

In Alphonse

Fatigue

Hunger

Fear

Impressive Scenery

These, of course, had to be learned through a series of failures:

The morning Alphonse had cut herself was one such; we did not ensure she slept, and her fatigue provided an opening for Enyo. Another day, Alphonse fell, sliding down a rocky drop off to one side of the road. Enyo showed up, likely due to some effort of self-preservation, and stayed until nightfall. When passing a waterfall a few evenings later, Enyo became overjoyed and threw herself in despite the freezing water. Delyth, of course, followed her. The warrior never stops to consider better options.

There is little Delyth, or I can do about passing scenery, but we can allow Alphonse time to rest. We can make sure she doesn’t get hungry enough to prompt one of Enyo’s bloody hunting sprees. We can keep her from getting Calamity.

Knowing this has greatly improved the quality of life on the road, so much so that it has almost begun to feel normal, if not exactly comfortable.

There is, however, one other development that bears notice. Enyo has begun to speak.

Though Delyth has regarded this new behavior with unease, I profess that I can consider it in no other light than that of an opportunity. I am going to try to understand the Goddess, if only so that I might have a better chance of banishing her when the time comes. I have and will continue to make an effort to speak to her whenever Enyo is present, though so far, she has not provided me with any information that I did not already know.

I suppose I will just have to come up with more, better questions. No matter. There is little else to occupy me in this monotonous wilderness—

Etienne looked up abruptly at a murmured noise from Alphonse. They had been quiet so far, slogging through roads made muddy by the morning’s earnest drizzle.

She was eerily still for one heartbeat, two… and then she was dashing through the bramble bushes, grabbing dark berries with little care for the long thorns