Page 2 of Our Lady of War
She smiled and he kissed her, sweetness deepening into passion until there was no more war, no mysterious past, no day coming that would call him back to the battlefield. There was only him and his Athania.
ATHANIA
She heard him wake before he made a sound. The subtle shift in his breathing was as loud as bells in her head. Sweet, peaceful bells.
“Now it is you at the desk, mi amor,” Igor murmured groggily from the tangled mess of sheets behind her. “Shall I torment you until you leave it, as you did me?”
Athania closed her eyes and smiled. There was never a moment she’d doubted her decision to leave everything behind for Igor. But there were many days she worried her doing so had caused irreparable damage through the wars plaguing Orford. She’d done everything she could to sway the battles in Igor’s favour, but… War was no simple thing. She could not play favourites any longer, or her brethren would intervene. Thanasim—Lord Night—was already banging on her door and endlessly pleading with Asteria—Lady Magic—to talk sense into their wayward sister.
Asteria was the only reason Athania had anything left from her time in The Primordial’s Void at all. When the Goddess Three permitted her to leave her station as Lady War and return to humanity, all of her magic was to be stripped away. For Igor, she would have gladly given it up. But Asteria pleaded with Hespa on Athania’s behalf.
It is not right to rip away her likeness with us entirely. It is no crime to love and be loved.
Asteria… The Mother had said to Lady Magic, her tone severe.
Be warned… The Maiden’s voice rang in a similar fashion.
This will mean… The Crone’s frown lines ran deeper in that moment.
I know what it means. Asteria would not take no for an answer.
Very well. The Crone had sounded almost pained, and Athania did not understand why.
But she did not care. She was getting everything she’d ever wanted.
That night, Asteria brought her a glass of wine, the notes full and peculiar in a way she’d never tasted before in all her years. She clinked her glass against Athania’s and wished her a blessed passage. Their farewell was a tearful one, and the next morning, Athania left the Void behind.
Alas, it was not any lingering magic that had saved Igor these last years, for she’d not yet discovered how to tap into it. No, she had used her goddess quill to fight for Igor. But at great cost. She no longer had the ability to properly sway war and help guide the bloodshed toward honourable and fair. It was madness in this realm because of her.
My reapers in this realm aren’t even in their flesh any longer, Lord Night had growled at her. They move about the realm collecting souls in droves. You’ve made a grave mistake, Athania. Stop meddling.
He wanted her to return to the Void. To restore order. But she could not leave Igor defenceless.
“Mi amor?” he called to her when she did not answer, lost in her own thoughts.
“You cut off their supply lines, yes?” She turned to look at him.
Igor rose, wrapping a sheet around his waist, leaving his tanned chest bare. He’d been dressed very little during their short time back home in the Alban castle. She would miss this.
“I received word of the supply cut-off being completed as of three days ago. By the time they reach the pass, they will be hungry and exhausted.”
Athania turned back to the papers and tapped her chin. She’d been pouring over the maps and plans since he’d fallen asleep last night. On paper, they had every reason to believe their surprise attack would be successful, but something tugged at her. Something didn’t feel right. But she couldn’t go with him—not this time.
“And you’re certain they’ll come through the pass?”
Igor rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “We sent the deceased decoy runner.”
It had been a risky plan, one of her own design, to take a fresh corpse and dress him as an Orfordian runner, then plant him where the Hawthrin troops would find him with false intelligence correspondence. A poor soul who didn’t make the harsh mountain journey, and Hawthrin to reap the reward for it.
“They have no reason to believe he did not die trying to deliver a message,” Igor went on. “They will think we are leaving the area and that they will catch us from behind, just as you suggested.”
Athania couldn’t shake it. There was only a dribble of her power left to intune such matters of war, but she was positive something was wrong.
“Igor.” She looked up at him, laying her hand atop his on her shoulder. “Be careful.”
He planted a kiss on top of her head. “Of course, mi amor. I will miss you terribly, but I’m pleased you want to stay behind in the safety of the castle for once.” His smile was devastatingly handsome, and she tried to smile in return. Instead, all she could do was reach up and cup his cheek, running a thumb over his dark beard.
“Come.” He took her hands and pulled her up. “Let’s enjoy this beautiful summer day.”
