People moved aside when they noticed her coat, and a couple even shivered in disgust when they saw her face, but she didn’t allow it to get to her. Not today. Someone could love her, despite her exterior.
Admittedly, Venviel hadn’t contacted her for over a week, but she must have had a good reason. They shouldn’t be seen together anyway. It wasn’t safe. Vaeri had alerted Keerla to their meeting at the congregation. They ought to lay low until the attention died down. Sure, Venviel couldn’t possibly have learnt that Vaeri had gossiped to Keerla, but she must have avoided Hope for a similar reason. She was clever. She’d kept Orchid Brave secret for years. Yeah, Venviel must have assumed they’d been detected, and pretended to forget about Hope to protect her. Definitely.
Hope spotted Venviel a second time, near the foot of the hill of the temple, where the elf disappeared into a garden. No one seemed to care that she entered the garden, even though it belonged to a mansion which Venviel did not own. No one knew her as well as Hope did, but it struck her as peculiar because Venviel didn’t look like she belonged to the elite these days. She dressed like a common sailor. Everyone should have reacted to her trespassing.
A dancer in thin cerise clothing jumped in front of Hope, blocked her path, and flashed such an expertly seductive grin that she almost forgot her plan. She nodded to the dancer, murmured an apology, and followed Venviel.
Trumpets and drums echoed throughout Lho Allanar, but the garden she entered stayed relatively silent. Only butterflies and bees disturbed its serenity, and even then, they enhanced the natural grandeur of bushes, roses, tulips, and trees with their presence. If Venviel had remained in this particular garden, she must have hidden somewhere. Maybe she’d suspected someone had pursued her.
Hope didn’t want to think Venviel avoided her, but the evidence kept mounting against the elf. She searched the garden while the celebrations carried on outside, beyond the hedges, but it wasn’t until she investigated the dense crowns of the trees that she noticed someone. Venviel sat among the branches of an onyx heart tree, concealed by its leaves. Black apples, steeped in legend of eternal life, would grow on the tree when it blossomed in the summer.
“I urged you to destroy my heart, over my life,” Hope said to herself, stepped closer, and looked up at Venviel. “But you could’ve had the decency to do it in person.”
Venviel either didn’t hear her, which was understandable with the music and noisy crowds on the streets, or she was too distracted by whatever she was doing. Hope saw how she caressed her bow, stroked its length, when the trumpets heralded the arrival of the high priestess’ procession. Still, she doubted Venviel could fire an arrow from her current position, so she wasn’t immediately disturbed by her strange behaviour.
It wasn’t until Venviel dropped out of the tree and dove into the nearest bush when they came face to face, that she started to worry.
“Why are you avoiding me, Venviel?” Hope bent next to the bush, parted its large leaves, and looked at the elf lying in the dirt.
“I panicked,” Venviel said with a sheepish expression.
“Not now. Over the last week, you’ve avoided me.”
“I have not. I…” Venviel averted her gaze and groaned when she spotted a crack in her bow. “I forgot about you.”
“You forgot about me? After the night we shared?” Hope snorted. She’d developed a thick skin, through abuse and insults, yet she found herself slighted nonetheless. “How?”
“It’s not what it sounds like.” Venviel ruffled her bangs but made no attempt to get up or out of the bush. “I’d love to tell you what I’m doing, but you’re not…”
“I’m not what?”
“Eh...” Venviel scratched dirt off her cheek. “Not bad enough to be with me. You have… Our lives are very different, Hope. You have prior responsibilities.”
She had to contend for a bit with an incessant smile that wouldn’t leave her face. “Such misgivings you have, Miss Amicier,” Hope said, trailed her twin tails along Venviel’s leg, and considered lying down next to her. She didn’t care if anyone found them together, didn’t mind that the garden belonged to someone else. “I’m not bad enough? For you, I’ll become a genuine thief.”
“Told you to stop calling me Miss Amicier.” Venviel sat up, grabbed Hope by one of her horns, and pulled her into a needy kiss. “And you don’t have to become anything for me. You’re great. I mean that, but…”
“But what?”
“You know there’s something I must do. A personal matter. And I figured it best if you didn’t get involved, because I don’t want you to get hurt.” Venviel blew her bangs out of her face. “Hope, I adore you, but I need you to give me a day or two.”
“Anything for you, my love,” Hope said without hesitation, ran her fingers through Venviel’s hair, and smiled.
Yet when she remembered why she’d sought Venviel out in the first place, she shook her head and cleared her thoughts. She couldn’t surrender to the elf’s charm. “No, no. Wait. We need to talk. The high priestess will assign a veteran inquisitor to track you down if I don’t—“
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Venviel got up and inspected her bow with a frown. “I have plans for how to handle the high priestess.”
Hope realized why Venviel had brought a bow, and she didn’t like the idea. Keerla may be a mere mortal, but the goddess would punish any assassin who dared to slay her chosen. Especially if they committed the deed during the days of adoration.
“Venviel, listen.” She grabbed the end of the bow. “If you do something stupid this week, like a crime against the temple, you’ll forfeit your shot at true love. Didn’t your parents tell you stories about the goddess? Didn’t you listen to the priestesses?”
“I don’t give two shits about the temple!” Venviel jerked the bow away. “They’ll get what’s coming to them.”
“Venviel, please.” Hope placed her hand on the mace in her belt. She shouldn’t take a swing at Venviel, even though as an inquisitor, she had clear orders to kill every threat. “It’ll affect me too, if you lose your chance at true love.”
“Why?” Venviel rolled her eyes. “Do inquisitors get punished if they don’t kill innocents?”
“No, I…” Hope couldn’t make Venviel listen unless she appealed to reason, but this was a question of faith. “I believe you’re my true love.”
Venviel stared, gripped the bow harder in silence. Did she have to avenge her parents? They’d died. Why couldn’t she leave it at that and forgive the world for its mistakes? Hope wished nothing more than for them to cooperate, stay together, and grow closer through every potential fight with Keerla, yet she doubted Venviel was open to the suggestion. She was so set in her ways.
“You’re the only person in this world I long to be with,” Hope said. “Only you make me feel like another elf. And I know I’m not.”
Venviel eased the grip on her bow, briefly, before she steeled herself. “When I’m done with the temple, you’ll have a better life. They’re the ones spewing hatred, not us. They single people out, label them worthless. Burn them alive. I’ll do what I can for both our sakes, but don’t get involved, Hope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t hesitate.”
Hope didn’t want to imagine what she meant and didn’t ask either. Venviel strode off with determined steps.
When she stopped in her tracks, halfway to the exit of the garden, Hope prayed she’d had a sudden change of heart. But while Venviel returned to steal another kiss, she left afterwards. Hope didn’t convince her to stay, and it angered her. Who was Venviel to renounce true love on Hope’s behalf?
Love Waits
Venviel didn’t believe anything the priestesses taught, yet Hope’s confession cut her to the bone. She’d not expected to be put on the spot by the inquisitor. She’d sort of feared Hope would have sold her out to Keerla already, but that would have been a physical blow, and she could handle those. How was she supposed to react to faith?
>
The procession passed the group of elves she hid among to the sound of trumpets, drums, and cheers. Keerla walked in the middle, dressed in an extravagant pink robe, flanked on every side by her disciples and inquisitors. Venviel suspected the disciples were guards in disguise, since some of them appeared too old to serve at the temple as students.
She kept her cracked bow lowered at her side. Those standing around her didn’t see that she held it, or they didn’t care. They were too busy cheering, screaming, and waving at the high priestess. Besides, she wasn’t the only one who walked the street armed. They might have assumed she was an inquisitor in disguise.
If Venviel hadn’t met Furore in person, she’d have thought Keerla was the real goddess to these people. She wondered what differences would have become apparent if the high priestess had ordered the procession to go through the poorest areas of Lho Allanar instead. Surely, they wouldn’t have cheered for her there. They would have thrown their trash.
The crowd fell in behind the procession. Venviel wasn’t given much choice in the matter. People pushed and shoved each other, so either she followed the flow and rhythm they set, or she lost her target. She didn’t know exactly where the high priestess was headed. If she had to make a prediction based on previous years, the procession would pass by every shrine in the wealthy quarter before stopping at a square somewhere.
More and more elves joined the crowd until it became a long snake lead by the head of the temple that slithered through the streets. Venviel could smell vanilla, somewhere, but couldn’t determine its source. The scent reminded her of Hope, distracted her from her task.
The snake which consisted of hundreds of elves arrived at its first stop. A shrine in the shape of a pillar crafted out of white stone, adorned with pearls, and decorated with piles of flowers from nearby gardens.
Keerla stepped up to the shrine. The inquisitors kept the crowd at bay by forming a line in front of the high priestess, but even then, they had to shove a couple of men backwards to stop them from getting too close. Three of the inquisitors placed their hands on their maces to remind people that they could injure them, if they didn’t follow the rules.
Venviel clutched her bow, Keerla turned to address the crowd. Someone grabbed her weapon and tried to pull it out of her grip. They’d discovered her. She had to think of a quick excuse.
“Give it to me, Venviel,” Hope whispered, pressed herself up against her back, and pulled at the bow again. “It’s broken. You cracked it when you dove into the bush. What will you do when you fail?”
“Get lost,” Venviel whispered back, but she couldn’t tell if Hope could hear. The crowd had grown quieter, while they listened to Keerla, but they hadn’t stopped talking altogether. The drums hadn’t stopped beating.
“I’m doing this for your sake.” Hope pushed her nose into her hair. If that had been all, Venviel would have forgiven her for the interruption. But the bow slackened in her grip, and when she glanced down, she could see that Hope had severed the string.
Why? Did she honestly think it would stop her from killing Keerla? Venviel still had her rapier, concealed under her clothes, and a dagger hidden in her boot. She’d known she couldn’t trust Hope, and now the traitor had shown her real nature. Again. She’d freaking betrayed her twice in one lifetime without suffering retaliation.
“Don’t hate me, Venviel.” Hope grabbed her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd, away from the high priestess. “I’m sorry, but don’t hate me.”
“I have every right to hate you.” Venviel faced Hope, freed her arm. She should have continued staring forwards. The moment she looked into Hope’s eyes, she lost the will to hurt others.
“You do.” Hope nodded and leaned into her to prevent anyone else from listening in on their conversation. “But we can work together. You don’t have to do it in public. You may not have to hurt anyone at all, if we cooperate. I need you alive.”
“Why?”
“You’d be difficult to cherish dead.” Hope smacked her butt. “And it’ll be harder to survive on my own.”
Venviel released the broken, ruined bow into Hope’s care. “Fine. You better have an excellent excuse though, or I’ll—“
“Break my heart?” Hope smiled pensively and guided her out of the crowd and onto another street. “My excuse is love. Something you made me believe in, despite how you’re the non-believer, and I’m the loyal servant.”
Venviel would have liked to be as carefree as Hope, but she couldn’t forget revenge, which she’d fantasized about for years, and couldn’t abandon her dream. She trusted the inquisitor less with each step they took. If someone discovered what Hope had just done, she’d be rewarded for protecting Keerla. She did her job when she separated Venviel from the mindless herd.
And yet, Venviel didn’t reach for her rapier when they found themselves alone. She’d warned Hope she wouldn’t hesitate, if she got between her and her target, yet all she did was hesitate, delay, ponder, wait. At least until Hope found a secluded spot for them in the shade of oaks, in another deserted garden. Then she tore the inquisitor’s coat off her warm body.
Bleakest of Souls
Mortals bored Fate. Long, long ago, during an era which may as well be called the beginning, she’d been as excited by their cute little interactions as Furore. However, by the time the goddess of love had ordered the reconstruction of Lho Allanar, she couldn’t have been less entertained by the dealings of humans and elves. She’d experienced everything they could do to each other firsthand. They’d done it to her numerous chosen.
Fate appreciated what Furore tried to do for her when she gave her free reign over Lho Allanar, but the city never amounted to more than another toy. It didn’t shake her out of her rut. She didn’t like its inhabitants, didn’t care if Lho Allanar survived or perished in a second volcanic eruption like the original had.
She found herself mildly amused by Keerla, since the high priestess embodied the antithesis of Furore’s teachings, yet despite that fact, no one dethroned her. Everyone kind of fell in line, worshipped Keerla as a false idol, and overlooked Furore’s teachings whenever the high priestess made an oopsie.
Not even the goddess of love batted an eyelid when innocents burned. Furore shrugged, viewed the events as insignificant, and tried to please the millions of lovers across the world instead. Who cared about those who sinned? If someone wanted to worship hatred over love, it was their choice, wasn’t it?
Nevertheless, Fate was intrigued by Furore’s plans for the mortal named Hope. The goddess of love had been dismissive at first, laughed off her questions, but recently, she’d managed to pull more and more answers from her lips.
Fate believed the change had come about because of Venviel’s influence. Before Venviel, Hope had been a failure. She’d been rejected by society as a whole. If it hadn’t been for Fate’s timely intervention, the demon mortal might have starved to death before she’d joined the temple. Fate had whispered in Keerla’s ear, told her to keep Hope around, and watch her closely. Now she had to choose which mortal to keep, which to discard.
She landed on the stone roof of a building with soft steps, held her gold arms and hands out in front of herself, and transformed them into the same colour as Venviel’s skin. She was a goddess. She could become anyone, and right now, she wanted to become a specific hero.
She summoned a sleek bow out of the ether and stepped up to the edge of the roof. Below, on a square, she could see hundreds of elves gathered around their false idol. Keerla stood surrounded by inquisitors in their funny coats and gestured for the elves to quiet down, so she could make herself heard.
Fate didn’t have to wait for silence. Fate didn’t ask. No, it made demands of mortals, and either they rose to the occasion, or they fell victim to the merciless march of the ages.
“High Priestess Keerla!” She shouted and made her voice echo through Lho Allanar like thunder. “I am Orchid Brave, Venviel Amicier, and if you want to survive this encounter, you�
��ll drop to your knees and plead for your life.”
Keerla didn’t follow Fate’s instructions. She sought cover behind the inquisitors while everyone else stood stunned and stared or fled.
Fate raised her bow, aimed it at the inquisitors the high priestess hid behind, and extended its string until she couldn’t pull it further back. Keerla might think she was safe behind five armed elves, but they were mortal. And Fate had chosen whom to remove from the world.
“I do this for Hope!” Fate declared, and an exuberant sensation flowed through her veins for the first time in eons. It gave her tingles. “I, Venviel Amicier, love Hope.”
The citizens on the streets looked puzzled by her statement, but they best remember it. She didn’t like to consider what extremes she may have to resort to, if they didn’t. Poor Hope and Venviel might not be recognized as the greatest threat to Lho Allanar’s status quo without her assistance.
Fate released the string of the bow, no arrow flew from her weapon. But a huge wooden stake, the size of a log, fell out of the sky and slammed into the spot where five inquisitors shielded one high priestess. They gave their lives for nothing.
Blood covered the square, but Fate didn’t know how to mourn mortals anymore. She’d killed countless. They bored her. She wished for Venviel’s and Hope’s sake that they’d make an effort to amuse her after this. Or she’d stake them to the temple’s roof next.
Wither
The thunder and the earthquake shook the ground, rattled the foundations of mansions, and threatened to tear the earth out from under them. If Venviel hadn’t held her tight, Hope would have panicked. Her twin tails thumped the grass, rapidly, but even if the goddess of love attacked the city, she’d done nothing to earn her ire.
Never Enough Page 9