The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 23

It had been harder than Gwyn had anticipated to leave the shadowsinger's company to return to the depths of the Library, no matter how much she loved the work. Azriel was right - the last couple days had been like a dream, with caresses and deep conversations and quality time and love. She'd had to pause where the ramp flattened on the floor housing Merrill's office to still her mind, her anxiety bubbling in spite of her usual confidence in dealing with the older priestess. She was still resolute in her plan - the moment Merrill uttered a crass word about her or the people she loved, Gwyn would remove herself. No matter how important the Valkyries were to her, nor how much she enjoyed the work she did and the women she would pass whilst milling through the stacks, she did not deserve the treatment she had endured for the past two years.

The Valkyrie hadn't told him that she had often accepted it as penance, the price she was forced to pay for doing nothing, watching as her sister's head was cut from her body. Doing nothing to save any of the other priestesses lost that night. She had been weak and powerless. But she knew Azriel would gently and lovingly scold her for feeling those things. Just thinking about it made her heart squeeze. That ridiculous Illyrian male was so certain he was not worthy of her.

The truth of it was quite the opposite. It was she who did not deserve him. But unlike the spymaster, she was not afraid that she would scare him away or hurt him. She was determined to be the best she could be, for herself and for him. No matter what she believed about herself, she was determined to love him the way he deserved to be loved. He would never doubt her heart for him.

The dim light from Merrill's messy, claustrophobic office filtered into the dark corridor, but Gwyn's steps didn't falter. She lifted her chin, rolled her shoulders back, and strode into the room to face whatever cold wrath the white-haired female had in store for her.

"Good afternoon, Merrill," Gwyn greeted the priestess who didn't bother to even lift a finger or tilt her head in acknowledgment. "I hope the last couple days have -"

"Did you tire of whoring yourself to the shadowsinger and whomever else that might take pity on a pitiful, broken nymph?"

The redhead barely flinched at her barbs, a far different reaction than the conversation that had driven her from her post for days. She had hoped that Merrill would at least make an effort to be agreeable, but - if truth be told - she had anticipated this. She had known as she padded her usual route that she had likely already worked her final day in Merrill's service.

"I didn't want it to be this way, Merrill," Gwyn sighed, shoulders sagging only slightly. "But you've left me with no other choice. I will be removing myself from your service. Effective immediately." The scratching of the quill on parchment stopped, the only indication that the elder priestess had heard anything she'd said. Keeping her breathing controlled, she watched and waited. Something akin to dread coiled within her as the silence stretched, though she could not quite understand why. Gwyn swallowed the anxiety and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, Merrill. I truly enjoyed assisting with your research. It has been quite impactful on my life. So, thank you." No longer expecting a response, the younger priestess dipped her chin to her elder's back, slippers scuffing on the stone floor as she turned to leave.

There was a sudden intense pressure around her wrist, her limbs locking in place. Her brows furrowed, bewildered as she willed her legs to move.

"Look at me, Gwyneth," Merrill's too-sweet voice crooned. The Valkyrie's neck obeyed instantly, even though she hadn't remembered truly wanting to look. Icy eyes met her own, a feral grimace twisting the face of the beautiful female before her. Gwyn's eyes darted to her wrist, Merrill's tanned skin a sharp contrast to the pale arm she was clutching, right above the friendship bracelet that had guided her through the Blood Rite.