Divine Evolution (2021 Watty Awards Shortlist)

CHAPTER THREE

Trouble turned out to be a handful of people waiting on shore where the dock met the sidewalk on dry land. She counted five: two men and three women. One of the men was older and dressed in clothing similar to Niko's, though he didn't fill out the black leather anywhere near as impressively. His hair and beard were clipped short, both completely white. He reminded Cyann of the village elders thanks to the stern, forbidding look he wore on his face. Everything about him all but shouted his disapproval, though of what, she didn't know.

The rest of the group looked nearer her own age. One of the women wore a long flowing robe with colors so vibrant, she dazzled like jewels. She wore her blood-red hair pinned back from her face, though it flowed in loose waves about her shoulders and down her back. It was clear she had eyes only for Niko. The second woman had mousy brown hair pulled into a tight braid, wore robes in muted earth colors, and held up a piece of stretched-out fabric on a pole over the first woman's head—presumably to protect her from the sun. Cyann guessed she was the first woman's domestic. The last woman was dressed in simple white robes that looked remarkably similar to the Dragontide's, or rather, Lord Diamont. A hood covered her hair and most of her face. If not for the breeze blowing her robes against her figure, it might have been impossible to even tell she was a woman.

As for the fifth member—the young man—he murmured in the red-haired woman's ear, whispering something in private. He also wore bright colors and shared a physical resemblance with the woman though his hair was more auburn than red. Maybe they were related? When it became obvious the woman had stopped listening and had eyes only for Niko, the young man scowled, but hid it quickly. Was there resentment there? It certainly seemed like it—she'd made it a habit to watch the faces of those around her, trying to gauge their reactions and where she stood. It came with being Wraithborn and never quite feeling safe in her own skin. Right then, all Cyann knew for certain was there was more going on than she could possibly know, and that uncertainty scared her.

"Who are they?" Cyann asked softly, looking to Niko for guidance.

"Not the people I want to see," came the extremely unhelpful answer.

"Are they going to act like the Dragontide did?"

"They might, but none of this is your fault. I brought this on myself, regardless of what they may say to you—remember that. Whatever happens, you aren't responsible. I will keep you safe from them and will handle any fall out."

It wasn't the most reassuring thing she'd ever heard, but there was no chance to say more as the group descended on them. The old man spoke first, his voice a gravelly rumble that could frighten the mountains into getting out of his way.

"So the whispers are true," he said without preamble. "You're back on Dragholme and have already been to the sanctuaries with a Ministry representation searching for a new Chosen. You know how I love hearing of your exploits through the gossip channels. It's always a joy when I discover I have no idea what the head of my House is doing, especially when it's my job to know,"

"It's a pleasure to see you too, Salil," Niko drawled.

"Pleasure, my ass. I told you we needed more time to conduct an investigation and consolidate our holdings, but you refused to listen. House Edrigu isn't strong enough to take on any challengers yet. We need to bide our time and flush out our enemies. Instead, you find yourself another Chosen to toss back out into the spirals. Did you learn nothing in the past last half a year?"

Niko sighed as if listening to the man exhausted him. "We've been over this before. I'm Lord of House Edrigu. This is what I need to do to restore honor to the House. If you don't approve of my methods, you can always leave."