Nobody's Goddess (Never Veil #1)(14)

I touched the dirty, dark shawl that had once covered her white head. It lay between a lily and an indentation in the grass, where Ingrith had once stood. Her clothing was now all that remained.

Had the lord actually killed her? But why? And how? He’d never executed anyone before.

No woman has ever looked at the castle for that long, either.

And no one ever really complained about him before. No one said what would happen if we went against the first goddess’s teachings. They just asked his blessing, like he was some ever-watching shepherd spirit, like we were his mindless flock. Someone has to eat the food, wear the clothes. Unless it’s all the specters.

The lord’s servants. Less reverently and more often called “the specters” in my mind. To a child they were too-real monsters, appearing without fanfare and dissipating into the mist once they were done with their errand. They showed up any time anyone had so much as a disagreement in Vena’s tavern, not that there was much room for anything resembling an actual fight like those in the tales of queens and kings in the village of simpering men and goddesses. They also did the lord’s shopping for him, silently handing merchants notes with the lord’s orders. Clothed from head to toe entirely in white, the specters would have been hard not to spot even from leagues away. But their hair—each one had hair to his shoulders—was white. Their skin was white, as white as snow. It was as if they were men who’d had every bit of life, every bit of color drained out of them. They were like a walking death, if anything of our bodies was left behind once we died.

Only once had I gotten close enough to look at one’s face. It was there that I saw the only hint of color: blood red eyes.

I shook my head clear of the image. In any case, at least we had an image to put to the specters—unlike the lord, whom no one had ever seen.

The heartless monster. She called him that. Was it all just Ingrith’s delusion?

“Damn you, you crazy ol’ crone! Ingrith!”

There was no mistaking that voice, muffled and angry and distant though it might have been. Fish Face. I wondered if this time someone in the quarry had gotten hurt—or worse. And they would come with their anger, itching to find Ingrith, and they would find me. Just me.

I released the shawl from my fingers and stood up, ignoring the soreness in my muscles. Before I could even stop to think, my feet kicked up the dress and flew farther into the fields. If I could just get out of sight before they came. If I could just pretend I’d been long gone before the second earthquake.

They knew you were with her beforehand. They’ll see you running through the fields. There’s no reason for them to keep their eyes down.

I ran, though, as if there were no other choice. I couldn’t deal with all of the questions. I couldn’t deal with the stares, the hatred. Not on this day.

Thanks to the hills, I might have gotten out of sight before they found her clothing. I made for the eastern dirt path as soon as I could, ready to insist I’d just been walking homeward. Home was so close. I was running at a speed I’d thought I’d lost, staring at the ground all the while, fighting through my body’s struggle to breathe. Ready to pretend I’d never even cut through the fields.

My dress! There were tears and grass stains all over the skirt.

Home was right there. Mother and Father might still be inside; there had to be a little time before dusk yet. I could cover the skirt up with an apron. I could grab another dress when Mother wasn’t looking. They’d notice. We don’t have any other nice dresses.

I kept running, straight past the house and into the woods. The trees kept the castle from view, so I looked up at last. I found the well-worn foliage to the side of the path and burst through the trees. I didn’t care that stray branches scratched my arms and ripped at already-torn seams. I was going somewhere where I could rest and think, where I could quiet the insanity running through my head, where I could figure out what choices were left to me, if any at all.

A shriek, or more like a giggling squeal, tore through the air as something fast and hard slammed against my abdomen. I felt a sharp poke in my leg and heard a snap.

“Noll!” The little girl whose bushy, twig-filled head had just rammed into my abdomen stepped back and looked up, rubbing her forehead with one hand. In her other hand, she held a branch. The top of it dangled by a thread.

My pulse was still racing, and I shut my mouth, worried my heart might escape through my throat. I ran a palm over the pain in my side, swallowed my heart back inside me, and spoke, breathless. “Nissa.” A farmer’s daughter. A friend of Luuk’s. We’d all played together before. “What are you doing here?”

It was a dumb question. I was the one who’d shown her the cavern in the first place.

Nissa tilted her head, pointing the branch at the cavern’s dark mouth behind her. “Slaying monsters.” Her mouth pinched. “It broke.” She tossed the branch onto a nearby pile of moss and rocks.

I smiled, even despite everything. “Elgar’s always broken. It’ll mend next time you pick it up.” Pick it up somewhere else entirely. My smile faded. “Were you in there alone?”

Nissa shrugged and clutched both hands behind her back. “Everyone else is getting ready for the Returning.” Her gaze fell on my dress. “Aren’t you going to get ready?”

I was ready. But maybe I’ll never be ready, not really. “I will.” I stood beside her and nudged her gently onward. “You go get ready, too.”