Needles. Diya hated needles. The pain from the coven’s apothecary sewing up her wounded calf paled in comparison to when he had removed the splintered bone shards, then paled further when he cleaned it by pouring alcohol over the wound. Still, she would rather endure the deepest, darkest agony over getting stitches any day.

  After all, no one ever said phobias needed to be dictated by sound logic. As such, Diya refused to listen to Tamsin when she repeatedly told her that the worst was behind her. Instead, she whimpered like a child, trying her very best to avoid being present. Staring intently at the space where the wall met the floor seemed to help a bit.

  You know, classic heroic behavior. The kind sung about in prophecies and such.

  When the apothecary had finished his bloody work, he left shaking his head at the juvenile behavior he had just witnessed from their coven’s chosen one. Between Diya’s mewling and being stared down by a bird the size of a small shack, he was more than happy to take his apothecaries bag and practically run down a set of stairs affixed to the large balcony.

  Shikra nuzzled against Diya and cooed a sound that seemed to say something like, I’m glad you’re okay, old friend.

  However, she didn’t feel especially okay. Her freshly treated wound burned like acid, and she swore she could feel her heartbeat drumming beneath the stitches. Generally, in moments like that she had prided herself on her ability to remain cool, calm, and collected. Something about this latest near-death experience had shaken her though. Perhaps it was the grim venue—while fruitful in providing her the emotional catharsis to break through her curse blockage, it was a lot to take in, to say the least. Or perhaps it was the unpleasantly tremulous nature of the situation.

  One moment she thought she would make short work of the Skarlith raiding party with her previously hyper-efficient violet smoke bomb. The next she was fighting for her life with nothing more than a splintered stick. A voice inside her spoke from the soul, assuring her that she was finally comfortable being vulnerable because she had the support of a partner like Tamsin. It felt silly to think, but with friends like Tamsin and Shikra by her side, she felt she could climb and mountain, overcome any obstacle.

  Tamsin scooped a wooden crutch from a nearby table and offered it to Diya. “Here, take this. Let’s go get a bite to eat. You must be starving—”

  “The violet bombs!” Diya gasped, suddenly struck by a realization. “I think something about the formula prevents them from being shelf stable. Or at the very least, gives them a short shelf life.”

  “Hey now, we can talk about that later. Just take a deep breath. You’ve been through a lot—”

  “No! You need to listen to me right now. Our cache of violet smoke bombs might all be expired. We would be sitting ducks if the Skarlith attacked in force!” Diya interrupted, words pouring from her lips

  Tamsin took a damp rag and wiped Diya’s brow with it. “What makes you think the Skarlith will be attacking in mass anytime soon? After what we did to their colony, they know we have the violet bombs. It would be actual insanity for them to launch an offensive.”

  “But I think the Skarlith who attacked us were some kind of scouting party. I found hand drawn maps of New Avignon in one of the warriors knapsack.” Diya’s eyes lit up, and she gasped again. “Orwell! Did he make it?”

  “Why don’t you ask him for yourself?” Tamsin said, helping her to her feet and guiding them inside to where the bearded man was resting.

  Diya’s eyes scanned the grey bearded man’s sleeping form, guilt growing in her gut.

  I shouldn’t have taken him out to the crater. It was my fault we were out there. She thought.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  His eyes opened a crack, and a wry smirk creased his lips. “No need to look so sad on my account. Way I see it, you saved both our bacon with your quick thinking. Truly, you should’ve seen her in action, chief. Was a thing of beauty.”

  Tamsin and Diya glanced at each other and grinned. Something about the old boozehound’s incessant positivity was impossibly contagious.

  Despite being an absolutely terrible teacher, he’s somehow impossible to hate.

  Orwell shook his fist in the air and laughed. “Was lucky for those buggers that they shot me with an arrow right off the draw or else they would’ve felt the fury of Orwell the bold!”

  “No doubt.” Diya agreed with a nod, though in truth, she did have some very serious doubts. “Get rested up old fella, I’ll make sure they keep you well-lubricated with the finest ale we’ve got.”

  ***

  The moon loomed red above the yawning skyline, indifferent to the reflection that danced atop the tireless river. It was a perfect windless night to enjoy tea on the terrace above Tamsin’s quarters—Diya would have cherished her company even in a bog, but the breathtaking view didn’t hurt.

  They sat bundled up in a soft blanket that Tamsin had knit from exotic wool. Diya held up an end of the blanket, admiring it then rubbing the corner on her cheek to test the softness. A soft hum signaled that it had passed the test. “How many other secret talents do you have? And how do you find the time?”

  “I spent years of my life in solitude. Flying all around the world, looking for you. You couldn’t imagine the boredom. I killed the time teaching myself useless skills.” Tamsin trailed off, eyes studying the rushing rapids. “I suppose I was a bit like the water. Obediently roving.”

  Diya met her gaze and felt a muted melancholy beneath it. “You undersell your talents. This blanket, and the clothes you’ve crafted for me are brilliant. The workmanship is top notch. To me, it sounds like you spent your time wisely for now you’ve the skills of ten, in one rather striking body.”

  “Your too kind to me, I don’t deserve you. I’m still just…stunned…that Kromac never actually believed in the prophecy. How could he send me away for so many years just to be rid of me?” Tears formed in her eyes and Tamsin turned away, struggling to hide them.

  “It’s not my place to make observations, but to me he seems to have lost his way. It’s tragic really. Do you know why?” Diya reached her hand out and wiped the tears from her partner’s blushing cheek. “Because you are incredible. If he hadn’t selfishly sent you away, it’s my belief that you could have saved him from losing himself.”

  Tamsin turned back to her misty eyed. “Do you truly believe that?”

  “With all of my heart,” Diya said, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against Tamsin’s.

  They stayed like that, wordless for a time, each more than content just to enjoy the others company. Eventually Diya made a slight sound of remembrance.

  “We really ought to enjoy this tea before it gets cold, shouldn’t we?” Diya laughed, then scooping up the two teacups and handing one to her love. “It’s chai tea, hard to find here in the coven, but I asked around and was able to hunt down the ingredients to make it. Reminds me of my home. The good parts of it.”

  Tamsin blew on it, then took a sip, shaking her head wildly. “It’s bloody spicy! Your people like this?”

  “I suppose it’s an acquired taste,” laughed Diya, playfully glaring.

  “Oh! After hearing all about your dilemma with the Skarlith, I got you a little present.” Tamsin scooped up an awkwardly long rectangular box with a bow tied around it and presented it to Diya.

  “You didn’t need to get me a present!”

  “Oh, I know I didn’t need to. I did it because I wanted to.”

  “I feel so spoiled! You’re always getting me gifts. It’s too kind!”

  Tamsin shrugged and beamed at her. “I can’t help it. Gifts are sort of my love language. Now open it already.”

  After rolling her eyes, Diya opened the present. Her face lit up with excitement when she saw the contents. Inside was the most exquisite spear she had ever seen. An ash wood shaft was wrapped in bands of hammered bronze, the spearhead was wrought of a green hued steel, and the butt was tipped with a crescent counterweight carved from black stone. She held the masterwork weapon up and admired it in the moonlight.

  “It’s the most stunning weapon I’ve ever owned. My most prized possession!”

  “Not half as stunning as you.” Tamsin grinned and shot her a smooth wink. “And hopefully, now you won’t end up unarmed next time battle finds you. We should turn in soon, after all, tomorrow I’m going to start training you in the final blood magic art.”

  Diya’s face glowed with excitement, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her partner and kissed her.

  Tamsin held stood up tall and smirked down at Diya. “Oh, and not to brag, but I’m a much better instructor than Orwell.”

  “Heavens I hope so! I think a mop with a face painted on it would have been a better instructor then that man!” Diya and Tamsin fell over laughing and for the moment, things seemed to be going perfectly to plan. What they didn’t know, was that forces were already set in motion which had no regard for their plans.