All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 4: Peace

Surrounded by the population of Srisset, contained within the henge, the Golden Healer paused, waiting for the outrage to subside. The Council had declared that no decisions would be made that night, but I cared little for Dorsette's foolish proposition and the Council's incessant need to wait to respond.

"What of Arin's killer?" I rose, my knees stinging from the dirt and pebbles embedded in them. "What justice will be served?"

Sybil whispered with Freya before turning to face me, causing the surrounding crowd to fall silent once more. It seemed they had forgotten the reason for our gathering—death, not marriage. "On the morrow, we shall conduct the final rites for Arin, so that she may feast with Eyr in the fields of Elysios under the waning moon, as befits a hero. We will construct a pyre worthy of her memory and raise our cups in tribute to her legacy." I caught Sybil's stern gaze, fixed on me with an unyielding intensity. "We will seek justice with grave consideration, but peace has been and will continue to be at the forefront of all decisions."

Her words pierced me like an ax, but I knew I deserved the wound. Still, my question remained unanswered. "Very well," I said, bracing myself for her rebuke. "But what of her killer?"

"To keep the peace, one must be peaceful," Sybil replied, her words as sharp as a blade, straight out of some citadel tome.

"Peace?" I said, almost laughing. "Dorsette killed Arin. There is no peace. They broke our treaty." I stepped closer to Sybil, the aroma of sandalwood incense stuck to her like salt. Dozens of eyes bore into my back, watching carefully.

"So you say."

"So I say?"

Sybil opened her mouth to retort, but promptly closed it, not wanting to make a scene before the assembly, I'm sure. The priestesses seized the opportunity to retrieve Arin's body for the final rites. As they departed, parting the crowd in their wake, Sybil took the time to reorganize her ideas into something more palatable. "There is much to be investigated. You are absolved of your part in the matter. Go home."

I would not.

With a wave of her hand, Sybil instructed the assembly to depart, lingering questions like tumble weeds. My mother moved to follow them, but I wasn't done.

"What else is there to know? You have my testimony, and now this." I pointed to the parchment still in her hand, rain drops darkened the paper. "You said it's proof they were here."

"It only proves someone delivered it." Her patience waned, straining her voice.

"I saw them." Anger painted my cheeks, clenched my teeth. "I don't know why they killed her, but I saw them. You must believe me. We must do something. Arin deserves justice. The rites will mean nothing if we don't know why they killed her." I moved closer to her. "Eyr won't let her enter Elysios unless she died as a hero," I added in a whisper.

"Arin deserves peace." Sybil's lips folded into a tight line. Her voice lowered. "Even if I trusted you, which I do not after that little performance..." She gestured to where I had stood and confessed. "I will not start a war over the death of one Kelvian. Not even my own."

Conversation over. Sybil had already determined there was nothing left to say and nothing she wanted to hear from me. Her bare feet pivoted in the dirt, an anklet with a small charm sparkling beneath her robe's hem as she treaded.

Chest bursting, I screamed across the henge, surrounded her with my words. "Coward!" The word hissed through my lips. My mother froze and I stormed after her. "Kelvia has never run from a fight: Stryt van engam, ruled by no one, Ma'ma." I trembled with rage, my tongue sharp as I recited the sigil plastered all over our buildings and weapons. "Not even fear." The wind whipped through my hair, a precursor to the storms moving in from the warm southern realms.

Sybil inhaled through her nose, held it, then said, "You speak of things you don't understand, things I cannot even begin to explain to you right now." She shifted.

I pulled on her arm like a child. "You're wrong. Call back the assembly, the Council. We have to fight. We must." Tears once more crashed over my cheeks.

My mother snapped her arm away. "I know you struggle to grasp being blessed, dear dotir, but for Eyr's sake, we're healers." Her gaze fell and her words aimed for my heart. "Some of us, anyway." Then she stepped beneath the archway, her hand lingering on the stone. "And Healers? We don't fight at all."

"No, Ma'ma. Not all healers," I said under my breath. "Just you."

A dagger between her shoulders would've hurt less.