Nobody's Goddess (Never Veil #1)(72)

It took us most of the day, and my muscles ached for Ailill’s touch by the end, but we brought a tree down with a thunderous crash and a surge of pride and exaltation. We hugged each other in triumph as the ground shook. For a moment, I remembered the times I looked at the castle in that other life. My spine tingled.

Back at the commune, Avery guided me into her shack, which she shared with more women and girls than ought to be able fit inside.

“Sorry,” I said as I nearly fell onto a woman nursing an infant on the ground.

The woman looked as if she were staring into the eyes of a monster.

I crouched down to face her, and she backed up as far as she could, practically willing the strength to knock down the wall of the shack so she could back away even farther.

“She’s darling.” I tried my best to put on a smile and pointed to her baby. “What’s her name?”

Avery grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me upward. “It’s a boy,” she said. “He won’t be named until he’s weaned and sent home to his father. Only the girls stay with us and get our names.”

I let Avery guide me to a small open corner of the shack across the way. The nursing woman sighed with relief as I left, letting a small smile work itself onto her face as she looked down at her baby.

Avery crossed her legs, sat down on the ground, and tugged at my hand for me to do the same. There was really only room enough for one of us, but I grabbed my knees tightly to my chest and did my best to cram onto the little free floor space anyway.

“You have to separate those likely to fight from the weak,” she whispered. “The ones likely to fight have fire in their eyes.”

That’s right. You promised to help lead a rebellion, not take on the lord by yourself. But that was even better. I’d have help. I’d stop him for certain this time. Maybe life would be different when I got home. Maybe Jurij would never have found the goddess in anyone.

There was no flame in the eyes of the women and girls around me, not like in the men back home. But I soon understood what Avery meant. Most of the women and girls huddled together, crying softly, staring blankly, or looking ready to fall over dead. In the three other corners of the room were the biggest and the strongest—which meant nothing compared to a healthy woman back home—leaning or standing against the wall, nodding over at me as I looked.

“It’s not enough,” I whispered back. “We’ve got to get them all—or at least most of them—to fight.”

Avery snorted. “We’ve been trying for years.”

“But there are more willing, right? In the other shacks?”

Avery shrugged. “A fair few more. But not even a tenth of our total number.”

Two women and a girl sitting on either side of us looked over uncomfortably. They tried to back away as best they could, but their space was limited. Avery shot each of them a look. “Cower and hide, like you always do! It won’t change anything!”

The few whispers and moans in the room stopped. Avery stood, heated, looking down on all of the women gathered.

“You heard me,” she said, her voice quiet, but her tone strong. “We’re the men’s slaves and all of you—every last one of you—is the reason why the men think they own us.”

“Don’t give us trouble,” croaked an older woman from across the room. “Just let us have peace.”

It was my turn to jump upward. “You don’t have peace!” Avery and the women in the corners seemed pleasantly surprised. The two who had been sitting stood to join us.

“I’ve come to help you!” I looked at some of the nearest faces, felt the pain and fear radiating from their eyes. “You called for me, in your hearts, I know it. You’ve suffered. Where I come from, it’s the women who bring the men to their knees! It’s the women who give the orders! Women don’t have the power to heal, just the same as the women here—but we have something more powerful than that. We have a choice! And you have a choice! You can choose to be miserable, to give your daughters the same shoddy echo of a life that you enjoy, to labor and birth and die, or you can choose to fight!” I was lifting some of the sentiment from the lord’s blessing. But what more suitable time was there than this?

The women gasped. Some hid their faces. The women standing in the corners gave a delighted cry, raising their fists into the air.

The euphoria spreading throughout my body came crashing to a halt.

“What is going on here, women?”

The sitting women screamed or buried their faces deeper into each other’s bosoms. Those in the corners slunk back down to the ground. I faced the entryway and saw Goncalo. Behind him stood a few more men, their hands locked tightly onto a number of bedraggled women.

Avery cut in front of me and bowed, immediately lowering her head to the ground. “Just trying to liven spirits with a few stories, sir.”

Goncalo scoffed. “No need to sharpen dull minds with stories in the commune, woman.” He grunted and waved his hand forward. The other men pushed the women they were holding forward into the shack and let them go. Instead of catching one another, they tripped and fell and screamed, trying in vain to move out of each other’s way.

“His Lordship is done with these,” spoke Goncalo.

The men started moving about the commune, not caring if they stepped on a hand, foot, or leg. They shoved women over, grabbing their faces, slapping through their clothing at chests and backsides. Some molested women were ripped upward into the men’s grasps.