A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 4 - Staring at a Ghost

"There are no secrets that time does not reveal."

- Jean Racine

Song: Weighty Ghost - Wintersleep

When Gwyn woke the next morning, she found that every bed around her was empty.

Meaning that she was terribly late.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Why had no one woken her?

That question was quickly answered when she caught sight of her reflection in the washroom mirror.

Her complexion was pallid - almost grey - and the lips she'd carefully smudged with rosy paint yesterday were pale and cracked. Then there was her hair. It was a bird's nest, and that was putting it nicely.

If anyone had attempted to wake Gwyn - not that she would've tried to wake anyone who was in such a sorry state - they would've been invariably unsuccessful.

Though they might have tried harder considering who I work for...

Cauldron, Merrill was going to gut her. Late and looking so unpresentable.

Then there was her staggering headache (the one that was making her forehead crease) and the nausea that was turning her skin a shade of green.
Her sins were written all over her face. Yet another example of why she was unworthy of wearing that invoking stone upon her head.

But thoughts of what she lacked in character would not serve her now. Gwyn needed to clean up, get dressed and head to the library. Perhaps she could still complete her work early so she could squeeze in a quick nap before her training with Azriel tonight.

No more training, remember?

Gwyn froze, washing her face.

That was right. The drunken (albeit wise) promise she had made. Not to train or hone her skills until she understood the lightsinger side of herself better. Not until she was either assured that she wasn't a monster or knew how to prevent herself from becoming one.

She would not be attending her training with Azriel this evening. She would not be attending her training with him in two days either. There would be no training or teasing or snarky comments exchanged at the tip of a sparring sword.

In fact, it was probably best that she avoid the training ring altogether. She had taken to practicing privately there on sleepless nights. That would need to stop immediately as well... lest she run into Azriel.

No.

Right. Lest she make herself more deadly.

This was not about avoiding Azriel. This was about protecting her friends, her fellow priestesses, from the danger she could be. The monster that she likely was. Azriel and her recent humiliation had nothing to do with her stopping her training. Nor did his shadows that could potentially betray her interest in the male.

Or maybe it's both, Gwyn...

Gwyn winced at her sister's knowing tone, then shed her nightshirt and crossed to the bathing chamber. Catrin was right. It was both.

She was protecting her friends and she was avoiding Azriel.

But Gwyn was a relatively disciplined female. She could throw herself into her work. Confine herself to the bookcases and her parchment until she knew herself better. Become exceedingly productive in the library rather than the training ring.

Where I can't hurt anyone.

True to the promise she had made herself, Gwyn threw herself into her work that day. Staying late to make up for her tardiness spared her some of Merrill's wrath, then later combing the shelves for more books on "lightsingers" and "inheritable magics." Her searches had proven fruitful.
That first day, she learned that lightsinger anatomy was nearly identical to high fae. A fairly obvious revelation given how her mother came into the world...