River of Veils (The Waters Aeon: An Elven Gods and Mortals Fantasy Romance Series Book 3) by Sylvie Greenhart

Author:Sylvie Greenhart [Greenhart, Sylvie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Latte Literary
Published: 2021-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Scia

I’m a wee bit nervous to leave my sister with Muánne, but my clothes are crunchy from rain and sea spray drying on them, and I am dying for the toilet and a shower.

The water closet in this inn is much more utilitarian than the last one I shared with Muánne—much more resembling its name in terms of size and function, with only a cramped corner shower cubicle that brushes up against my leg when I sit on the toilet—but it is more than enough. Even over the sound of the shower, though, I can hear Bí and Muánne having a conversation.

“I’m concerned that neither of you seem to be taking this seriously,” says my baby sister to a literal god.

Bí really is my baby sister. She’s barely twenty, and I’m thirty-seven. I continue to undress, the already-building steam from the shower softening the stiff folds of fabric. I give my tunic and jacket a solid smushing for good measure in hopes that they won’t be as crisp when I put them back on. My legs are wobbly, which isn’t unfamiliar for someone who lives life between land and sea, but it’s the way in which they’re wobbly that unsettles me. I grasp the edge of the sink to steady myself just as Muánne answers.

“To the contrary, I take this situation very seriously,” Muánne says. “And I think Scia does as well—perhaps she, like myself, simply uses lightheartedness as a coping mechanism. I could sit here fuming that Cladánei both escaped and almost killed us, but what would that help? She is now out of my reach, we are not dead, and in my experience when the first plan fails, it is wise to regroup.”

“Scia doesn’t take anything seriously,” Bí says, and I freeze on one foot with one leg of my trousers on and the other off. Rude, Chi-Bí. Rude. But then she goes on with a sigh. “Except me. If anything, she takes her responsibility to me too seriously, but this is important.”

“I suspect that to Scia, nothing is more important than you. Even the return of long-lost gods,” Muánne says softly, an indecipherable note in his voice.

“Her own life should be as important,” Bí says loudly, then coughs, and I can almost feel her eyes on me through the closed door. “Tell me you are not going to put her in danger. Tell me she is not simply some plaything to you.”

I tug my trousers the rest of the way off, still a bit wobbly on my feet. I am too much of a coward to eavesdrop further, and throwing my clothes into the sink—there is no other place to put them—I hastily get into the shower and almost slip.

Muánne’s voice is still audible over the spray, but I can’t make out the words, which is a relief. If he reassures her, I won’t know whether he’s just trying to appease her or not. If he brushes her off, I . . .

The hot water, thankfully, washes away the rest of that thought.

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