Trial of the Valkyrie

Come to Me

Chapter Sixteen - Come to Me

Song: The Stable Song - Gregory Alan Isakov

"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you."

― Jane Austen in Persuasion

G    W    Y    N

The outfit Emerie had brought Gwyn was far more comfortable than she assumed it would be. A bell-sleeved, floor length, dress with a cinched waist. The gown's shade of navy made the freckles littering her skin stark and brought out the warm, copper tones of her hair. Emerie didn't have even remotely bad fashion sense as far as Gwyn knew, but she hadn't expected her Illyrian friend who typically donned sweaters and trousers when she wasn't in leathers to select something so becoming of her.

Gwyn had promised to keep the dress clean – even to wash it before returning it to Emerie. But her fellow Valkyrie had waved her off and told her to keep the garment. To consider it a late birthday present.

The town square was very much alive and while at first the bright glow of the string of fae-lights and the loud beat of the music was overwhelming, Gwyn found a sort of calm in the ever present chaos. Yes, shoulders had bumped against her as she maneuvered through the crowd and yes, the male who handed her the ice cold cider had accidentally brushed his fingers against hers, but there was nothing alarming about it. There was no intent behind the contact. In fact, they didn't seem to even take note of who Gwyn was.

Nesta had guided her over to the wooden folding chairs that lined the town square, a designated seating area for those who wished to relax rather than mingle or join the throng of dancing couples in the center.

The eldest Archeron had alternated between dancing with Cassian and sitting with Gwyn. Darting back and forth until the priestess finally convinced her to enjoy the party and stop fussing over her. She'd obeyed, telling Gwyn not to hesitate to wave her over if she needed company. Gwyn had nodded, but truthfully, she wanted to be alone. To enjoy the scenery and lose herself in the people's merriment. To mentally count down the minutes remaining in the hour before Cassian escorted her back to Emerie's.

But as soon as Nesta had departed, Emerie had taken her spot, sighing gratefully for the chair that accommodated her wings.

Kira made an appearance, along with a few other females from the war-camp. They hadn't spoken to Gwyn or Emerie but had offered warm smiles. It made Gwyn's stomach roil. They'd seen what a mess she had been over Azriel. They pitied her. She wouldn't fault them for it, but she didn't have to like it.

"Mother above," Emerie muttered.

Gwyn followed her friend's eyeline to the northernmost edge of the town square.

Morrigan.

She still wore the lightweight, crimson, summer dress Gwyn had glimpsed her in when she'd come to take her seat next to Azriel's bedside. Her blonde hair was piled high on her head exposing the length of her neck.

Gwyn's brows drew together, doing a quick scan of the surrounding area. "She was supposed to stay with Azriel until he woke up."

"Then he probably woke up," Emerie replied. "If something bad had happened she wouldn't be here or...or standing there or..." she trailed off.

Gwyn glanced over at her friend to find that she was watching Morrigan reverently. Staring as though if she looked hard enough Morrigan may notice her – and it worked. Morrigan met her eyes.