Trial of the Valkyrie

ACT II - A Reckoning

ACT II

THOU SHALT NOT SUFFER

Chapter Eighteen -  A Reckoning

Song: Fallen Through Time - Bear McCreary

"But surely for everything you love you have to pay some price."

― Agatha Christie in Agatha Christie: An Autobiography

G     W     Y     N

"Excited to get back to work, Em?" Nesta asked, unpacking the last crate of furs and handing them to Gwyn for folding.

  Emerie snorted, scrawling on the parchment she'd set on the cashier's desk. "Is it terrible that I hope business stays dead?" She half-smiled at her fellow Valkyries. "I don't want to have to hire staff."

  "Why not just sell the damn place?" asked Nesta. "Come live in the House."

  "It crossed my mind." She smiled simperingly. "But for now, I'm happy to continue exploiting the both of you for free."

  Back and forth Nesta and Emerie went while Gwyn folded pelt after pelt, neatly stacking them on the shelves. Her thoughts dancing around Azriel's farewell last night and the promise of seeing him again after they'd returned to Velaris. After all this madness was through and the marriage was annulled and they could properly court. Then eventually, have another ceremony.

  Although, the idea of him no longer being her husband did sour her stomach. No doubt he would regain the title again someday, but Gwyn didn't know how long she could wait to hear him call her "wife" again.

  "What about you, Gwyn?" Nesta asked.

  "Hm?" asked the priestess, running her hand over a fox fur pelt.

  Nesta smirked. "We were discussing what we plan to do now that all this is over."

  "Oh, I bet Gwyn was just imagining all the things she plans to do," cut-in Emerie wickedly.

  Heat creeping into her cheeks, Gwyn smiled and said, not looking up from her work, "I've already done quite a few of them as it were."

  Emerie snickered, dropping her quill and hanging her head. "Cauldron, Gwyn! Where?"

  Nesta's lips were pressed together tight, though her shoulders trembled with barely contained laughter.

  "Tell me where!" Emerie insisted.

  Gwyn tossed a rabbit's pelt onto the shelf limply, then hugged her sides. "I'll just say that these crates we've been unloading are awfully familiar."

  Nesta's laughter ripped free and she braced a hand on Gwyn's shoulder. "Good for you."

  "Gwyn," Emerie began, narrowing her eyes, "if one of my customers finds a single drop of–"

  There was a knock at the door before the Illyrian could finish her sentence, but she didn't need to. Both Nesta and Gwyn already rolled with laughter.

  "That'll be Morrigan," grumbled Emerie, stalking out from behind the counter and casting a teasing glare in Gwyn's direction. "I mean it, Berdara. I'm sending you a bill."

  "Filthy Gwyneth," Nesta grinned, elbowing the priestess as she brushed off her hands.

  Smiling so broadly her cheeks hurt, Gwyn shrugged and crossed over to the next crate that contained bolts of fabric.