A Hand Weaving Chaos (Book 2 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"Ah good, you've found the warmer cloak. You'll need it up north this time of year. Winter seems to last forever on Mauti Isle," Manon said, pausing before Jill and giving her a once over before offering a comforting pat on the shoulder.

For a moment, Jill had a second of panic, wondering if the older woman could see signs of what she'd just been up to with Brexen. Then she decided not to worry about it since Manon clearly had so many other things to concern herself with.

"I just wish I had clothes of my own. I feel guilty borrowing from everyone else."

"Hm..." Manon tapped her lip and looked thoughtful. "I'll check into that for you. In the meantime, I need to go over some..."

The rest of the sentence was lost as Manon bustled over to a group of young men who stood about with their hands in their pockets. She shouted orders the whole way, startling and scattering the lot of them. Jill watched her go, feeling out of place and lost from where she stood on the edge of the clearing. Apparently Arianie's Chosen wasn't needed at the moment, meaning she was left cooling her heels for the time being. Twilight was rapidly turning to darkness as a few people still scurried about. Most were just beginning the slow straggle into the clearing where she would attempt the portals, confusion and no little fear on their faces.

Upon her and Brexten's return, Mical had offered her an apologetic glance and taken Brexten aside to discuss last minute concerns. She watched them talk, heads bent and voices low. Saw Brexten nod vigorously before Kelis and Captain Arrio joined them. Sighing, Jill tried to amuse herself with kicking the toe of her right boot in the mud and trying to convince herself that creating portals in defiance of Kachine was actually a good idea. Moments like this, where she stood on the outside and watched events progress around her, made her realize how far away from home she was. In some ways, she would always be an outsider to these people.

But is it the magic that's the problem, or is it just me? Is there something the matter with me because I can't fully commit to them, or even to Brexten? She shivered. That was a question she'd need a therapist to help her answer.

At some point, Cavell sidled up beside her. Jill eyed him warily.

If he tries to hit on me, I'm going to scream.

"Thinking morbid thoughts?" he asked genially.

Jill stared at him, lost for words. Morbid thoughts? Was he serious?

Unfazed at her silence, he continued with, "So... Has anyone recently speculated on the relationship between you and the Prince?" He tried to leer but it came off looking ridiculous and laughable instead. He leaned in too close. Jill leaned away as a wave of alcoholic fumes hit her full in the face. Cavell was, as usual, drunk. "Has he marked you as his property yet or is there room for anyone else to lay a claim?"

That's it. I'm going to scream.

"My dear Cavell, I believe that is none of your business," Geniece answered, swooping in. "Why not try your luck with one of the lovely young girls over there? I think now might not be the best time to bother Jill with your attentions."

She looked very regal and frighteningly imperious as she pushed Cavell away with practiced ease. Her mane of hair had been loosely bound to tumble halfway down her back in gorgeous red waves. The well-cut green and grey riding breeches and tunic she wore actually seemed to make her green eyes sparkle more than usual—noticeable even at dusk. A dark grey cloak embroidered with flowers and shiny black boots completed the look. Morosely Jill wondered why any man would be remotely interested in her when such a creature as Geniece walked the earth.