Jeroinin slung her staff against her back and gently tucked Priscilla’s hand into the crook of her elbow before guiding them towards the tables laden with food. With each step they took, the fear in Priscilla’s heart lessened a little more. Jeroinin had promised both silence and answers, and Priscilla would only ruin her night if she spent it needlessly worrying. Priscilla didn’t like trusting the unknown, but this was the woman who had raised Kavil, who had instilled the values of kindness and generosity deep into his soul.

  “You should try the artichoke hearts,” Jeroinin murmured as they reached the table to join the rest of the villagers who were congregating there, breaking Priscilla out of her thoughts.

  “I wanted those in my mouth the moment I saw them,” Priscilla said, and then immediately regretted the way she phrased it. But Jeroinin just chuckled, patting Priscilla’s hand fondly before letting her go.

  “I’m glad my cooking was so enticing,” Jeroinin said and when she smiled, Priscilla saw echoes of Kavil’s smile, though she knew they weren’t related by blood.

  “I’d like to try a little of everything if I can,” Priscilla said, gazing at the feast spread before her.

  “A woman after my own heart,” Theodore said, leaning forward to give her a wink. He tossed his long, black hair in a way that showed off his crooked grin. He was a tall, lanky man with tan skin in his late twenties and he reminded Priscilla of Mr. –– in a way that made her heart ache.

  “Cool it,” Allasan said, poking Theodore harshly in the side. Allasan was barely shorter than Theodore with similarly long black hair, but hers was pulled into a sensible braid with just a few flyaways pulling free. She gave Priscilla an apologetic smile as Theodore dramatically doubled over, looking at Allasan with a betrayed expression. “He likes to think himself a charmer but we all know my brother is the furthest thing from it.”

  “And I’ll never get to know if my charm works if you won’t let me try,” Theodore complained as he righted himself. “We rarely get visitors and you’ve ruined my image already.”

  Allasan rolled her eyes, saying, “Yeah, like you haven’t done that already when you argued with Kavil about who was really responsible for ruining the mushroom logs.”

  “It was clearly his fault,” Theodore retorted and the two began bickering in earnest.

  Priscilla chuckled, the last of her nerves fading. There was something comforting about listening to others talk, filling up the silence. She had never liked silence, not when it reminded her of spending lonely nights in a house made for a family that didn’t really exist.

  “Oy, Priscilla,” Yarnon said as he ambled up, a plate full of delicious goodies balanced on his wide hand, “come and sit with me.”

  He gestured with his head toward a table where Marian and Kayir were already sitting. The couple waved when they saw Priscilla looking, their children Tuyi and Dani nearby but ignoring the adults in the way children excelled at.

  “Are you stealing away my guest?” Jeroinin said, her voice wry as she began to fill up her own plate.

  Yarnon laughed, the sound deep and booming. “I’ll steal you away too if I thought I could get away with it.”

  Jeroinin hummed as she considered that.

  “Perhaps I shall let you,” Jeroinin said, looking at Yarnon with a coy smile, “just for tonight.”

  “Ah, my lady, you are most magnanimous,” Yarnon said, his smile positively lascivious.

  “Go flirt somewhere that isn’t in front of my salad,” Theodore butt in, making shooing motions with his hands, “and leave poor Priscilla with us so she doesn’t have to suffer through it.”

  “Yeah, get outta here, village head,” Allasan jumped in, smirking at the woman. “You, Kavil, and Yarnon have hogged her all day, we deserve some time with our savior too.”

  Yarnon scoffed. “I’ve barely spoken with her for ten minutes!”

  “That’s five more minutes than I got,” Allasan said stubbornly.

  There was a warmth building in Priscilla’s heart as she watched them argue about who deserved to spend more time with her. When she had first woken up as Priscilla, she had never thought she’d experience a scene like this. Though she tried to not linger on the negative thoughts, Priscilla had always been keenly aware of the role that this body had played in the original narrative. Priscilla Thornewood had been a villainess and reviled by all, and a part of Priscilla Sunscarre had been worried about fate using its nasty hand to twist the world’s perception of her into that, even if she acted in the opposite way the original did.

  But it seemed those fears were unfounded and Priscilla felt lighter for it.

  “Now, now, there’s plenty of me to go around,” Priscilla said, sliding into the conversation when people paused to breathe, “but the first person I’ll spend time with is whoever made those mashed potatoes because mashed anything is one of my favorite foods.”

  Yarnon had a look of triumph and the siblings’ shoulders drooped.

  “That’d be Marian,” he said proudly.

  “Don’t worry,” Priscilla said to Theodore and Allasan, “give me twenty minutes and I’ll need to try some of these rolls.”

  Allasan brightened, saying, “Deal!”

  Priscilla filled her plate with a generous helping of potatoes, artichokes, and what looked like a smoked mushroom she was excited to try, and followed Jeroinin and Yarnon to their table, intent on enjoying her evening and unwinding.

  ----

  Kavil turned to Sulaiman as soon as the blessings were finished, asking, “What did you think?”

  The dark haired man hadn’t taken his eyes off the shimmering light as it fell gently down upon him. Kavil watched the reaction with a poorly hidden smile. The first time he had seen it as a child, Kavil had thought it to be the most magical thing in the world. Well, it still was pretty magical, but in a way that was familiar and comforting as Gaelea’s warmth infused his soul.

  Which was why Kavil was immensely enjoying watching another person experience the blessings for the first time, though it was a rare occurrence as visitors didn’t often come this way nor did their arrivals typically align with days where blessings were shared. It was doubly enjoyable that it was Sulaiman’s reaction he was watching, since Kavil had learned was a reserved person throughout the day. Never the first one to say something, or the last, preferring to let Priscilla and Kavil do most of the talking, but a steady presence in the background nonetheless, interjecting when he thought Priscilla was getting too crazy or to subtly compliment Kavil (which felt just as good as when Priscilla called him her savior).

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Sulaiman reached his hand up to catch one of the last flecks of light that was drifting down. The light burned brighter before dissolving on his palm.

  “It’s… unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Sulaiman said, blinking down at his hand like he had never seen it before.

  Kavil’s smile widened.

  “Gaelea interacts with Her followers more directly than other divine beings,” Kavil said, eager to share his knowledge, “and my aunt is one of Gaelea’s chosen conduits, so we feel Her grace more often than most.”

  “I see,” Sulaiman said slowly. Based on the way he said the words, Kavil could tell that Sulaiman probably didn’t pray to any of his own gods, but that was fine. Kavil knew the world beyond his village was vast and full of people who experienced life so differently than he did, and even if Sulaiman wasn’t devout, he had proven himself to be moral and just.

  Maybe Priscilla prays, Kavil thought as he turned to ask the woman what she thought, she certainly seems like the type of follower that any god would be lucky to have.

  But then Kavil froze when all he saw was Priscilla's back as she walked away, arm in arm with his aunt.

  “Auntie stole her while my back was turned,” Kavil growled, trying to let go of the unreasonable anger that bubbled up within him. He knew that people weren’t property, especially not someone as free-spirited as Priscilla, but a part of Kavil still felt possessive of her. He couldn’t even explain why, but Kavil wanted to spend more time with her, to hear her laugh, to watch as her mind worked through a situation, or see that smile she had graced him while they were in the bell tower again.

  It had taken his breath away when he saw it, especially when Kavil could feel the sincerity in her words when she prayed for his happiness. He had spoken with others in the village about what path his future should follow before Fr–… everything that happened, and never had someone so fervently wished for only his happiness, not pushing him towards what they thought he should or shouldn’t do with his healing magic. Kavil had been the youngest in the village before the twins were born five years ago, and that came with a certain superiority everyone held over him, like they always knew better since they were older than him.

  “That she did,” Sulaiman said dryly, watching the pair reach the table. The man’s baritone voice helped Kavil shake off his idling thoughts and helped him refocus. Priscilla was captivating and drew the eye with her flaming hair and confident emerald gaze, but Sulaiman was equally captivating in Kavil’s eyes, though in a subtler way. Sulaiman and his flaming sword had been a vision last night as he steadily cut down the bandits with precision and the way he rallied others to his side was just like the heroes did in Jeroinin’s tales.

  Priscilla may be out of his reach (for now, he’d steal her back later), but Kavil had someone just as interesting right here. But Kavil’s eyes caught on a cup left abandoned by Priscilla and he sighed, scooting over to look at it.

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t the cup of juice he had brought her, but the one his aunt filled with alcohol.

  “I can’t believe Priscilla left it behind when she was looking forward to it,” Kavil tutted, picking it up and watching the dark liquid swirl around. Aunt Jeroinin was quite particular about her alcohol and she made it strong because elves, even half-elves like her, had a higher tolerance than most humans.

  “She probably just forgot it,” Sulaiman said. “The blessings were… quite distracting.”

  Kavil’s lips curved into a smile at Sulaiman’s tone of voice, like he was about to say something more complimentary but pivoted at the last second. Kavil looked back at the alcohol, and a sudden impulse struck him, one that he couldn’t shake from his mind the longer he stared at it.

  One of the first lessons he ever received from Aunt Jeroinin about how Gaelea ascended to divinity.

  Gaelea hadn’t always been a goddess, starting out as a lowly earth spirit who protected a single tree. But it was beneath this tree that a bleeding man sought refuge, his blood stark against the white bark. Gaelea fretted over how to help the mortal who had stumbled into Her domain, the first that She could ever recall. His blood soaked into the bark and it tied his life to Hers.

  It was for this man that Gaelea manifested a physical form for the first time, so that She may help stop the bleeding.

  ‘Goddess,’ the man murmured.

  ‘Spirit,’ Gaelea corrected, pressing firmly against his stomach.

  Though She had little to give, Gaelea was a lover of all of the natural world, so She offered some of Her own vitality to help mend the man’s wounds so that he may live. It left Her weakened and tired.

  But before She fell into the slumber, the man held Her limp, physical form and asked, ‘What is your name? How might I repay you?’

  ‘I am Gaelea,’ She whispered, ‘and all you must do is give another the kindness I have shown you.’

  And so She closed her eyes.

  The man believed Her words to be a goddess’s commandment and dedicated himself to that ideal. He carefully plucked five seeds from the tree and then went on to spread the name of Gaelea. He planted the seeds each time he encountered another he could help and share Gaelea’s teachings with. He prayed over the seedlings and others followed suit.

  By the time She awoke, Gaelea found that Her domain had spread beyond what She had ever thought possible, reaching across the continent. She felt power She had never known before as people uttered Her name with devotion and begged Her for guidance and that power swelled beneath Her breast. She felt as if the world was at Her fingertips, should She desire it.

  The man, older now, stood beneath the first tree She had claimed when She awoke, his bosom companions by his side.

  ‘Gaelea,’ he said, ‘I have followed your teachings as you commanded and others now know of your great kindness.’

  ‘Commanded?’ Gaelea said, shaking Her head as She manifested a physical form. ‘It was only a request, dear one. You needn’t trouble yourself spreading tales of me when all I have done is sleep.’

  ‘But it was you who guided my steps,’ the man said, insistent. ‘Had it not been for you, I would have died upon your roots and left to wither and rot.’

  Gaelea knew not what to do with the warmth that blossomed within her heart, and spoke, ‘You have done more for me than any other, and I now am in your debt. How may I repay you?’

  The man smiled, and said, ‘Then I have but one request; might you grant me and my companions a blessing? They are loyal and true, deserving of your grace.’

  ‘Of course, dear one,’ Gaelea said. ‘Bring a cup and wine and I shall give you what you desire.’

  The man procured what She asked for.

  Gaelea held the wine filled cup within Her hands and infused it vitality from the prayers She heard ringing in her ears.

  ‘Drink from this cup,’ Gaelea said, placing it into the man’s reverent hands, ‘and never shall fate tear you apart.’

  The man and his companions drank from the cup and Her blessing rang true; Gaelea’s first paladins walked the land together and left a kinder world behind.

  “Do you think Priscilla would mind if you and I drank some?” Kavil asked, tilting his head towards Sulaiman, who had been in the midst of drinking some juice while Kavil had been lost in his thoughts. Sulaiman coughed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he stared at Kavil.

  “I thought you said that we shouldn’t drink that on an empty stomach,” Sulaiman said warily.

  “That’s true,” Kavil conceded, “but have you ever had the chance to try elven alcohol before?”

  Sulaiman glanced at the liquid with suspicion, saying, “Is it any different than regular alcohol?”

  “If you have to ask,” Kavil said, laughing, “then you’ve never had any. Compared to the stuff that Orien makes, auntie’s brew is on a whole ‘nother level.”

  Sulaiman eyed the cup in Kavil’s hands before glancing up to meet Kavil’s expectant gaze. Sulaiman sighed and Kavil had the feeling he had won.

  “I don’t think she’d mind if we both had just one drink,” Sulaiman said slowly and Kavil knew the satisfaction was creeping across his face but honestly, he didn’t care. Kavil took the first drink, enjoying the tartness of the boysenberries, before offering it to Sulaiman.

  Sulaiman’s drink was barely a sip, but his eyebrows shot up in clear surprise that made Kavil’s smile grow. Sulaiman set the drink to the side, clearly done with the alcohol.

  Kavil didn’t think that the three of them would really be tied together by fate as Gaelea’s paladins had been, but he was still selfishly glad he did it, for maybe, just maybe, they would not have to part once Priscilla was healed enough for travel.