She ordered the same tea and cake every Dacre’s Day when she visited the café. The same blue-eyed waiter served her each time, and while he knew her favorite order by heart, he tended to forget the exact features of her face by the time she paid and left.
To him, she was like all the other customers he encountered. A polite but reserved individual who enjoyed a table for one on the patio, so she could watch the bustle of Oath pass her by while drinking a pot of tea that never went cold.
On this particular Dacre’s Day, Enva spent longer than usual at Gould’s. It was springtime, and the first afternoon of the year that was warm enough to sit outside without a coat. She didn’t truly need one—she had been born in the coldest reaches of the sky—but she wore one regardless when it seemed useful, to blend in among the mortals as she walked the streets and visited certain shops.
Enva closed her eyes when she felt the sunlight warm her hair. Reflexively, she reached for the iron key she wore about her neck.
Iris had surrendered it, leaving it hidden on the altar of Enva’s cathedral.
And if she wanted, Enva could open thresholds and reawaken the under realm. It slept again, dwindling down to embers with Dacre’s death. But as long as there was a divine breathing, it wouldn’t collapse. Once, it had been home to her, even if she hadn’t been able to root her windblown heart to the rocks.
The blue-eyed waiter approached her table, a round tray tucked beneath his arm.
“Another pot of tea, madam?” he asked.
Enva knew he must have noticed how long she was lingering that day. A break in her usual pattern. She smiled and said, “No. I’ll take the check.”
He set it beside her teacup with a bow of his head before hurrying to tend to another table. Enva overpaid, as was the norm for her, before rising and studying the tall buildings on the other side of the street. Oath had been rebuilding over the years, but there were still scars from the war, if one knew where to look.
Rather than continue on her typical route to watch the opera rehearsal, Enva stepped inside Gould’s. She stood for a moment, soaking in the fluster of movement and the tart air of freshly baked scones. Slowly, she began to weave through the café. She passed by the table she had sat at during the bombing, a blue shawl around her shoulders and a poetry volume in hand. Iris and Attie hadn’t realized it had been her, but Enva had watched as the girls descended below.
She stepped into the dim hallway, approaching the lavatory door.
Enva paused, staring at the chipped paint on the wood. The key around her neck warmed, and it occurred to her then. She had been captive to Oath ever since she had struck the bargain with Alzane. She couldn’t break her vow and tread beyond the city gates or let the wind gather her up and carry her elsewhere. But would she have the power to travel the realm if she went below? Not just in dreams and in illusions, but with her flesh and blood?
It had been a cage to her once, but now it taunted her with freedom.
She had not seen the west with her own eyes in a long time. Or the north, the south. Beyond the borders of Cambria, where the horizon melted into the ocean. But she could sense the graves of soldiers, the loam dry and cracked without her music. Souls waiting for her to sing them onward to rest.
Enva slipped the key into the door. It unlocked with a slight shudder, swinging open to reveal the stairs leading to the under realm. Quiet, dusty, and dim.
She took a step. Then another. Her hands ached as she brought out her harp from beneath her coat, hidden and weightless in the charmed pocket she had woven for it.
Down she went, deeper into the shadows. But this place felt familiar to her, as if she had caught a glimpse of her reflection in midnight waters. It made her reminisce about the last time she had played her instrument.
It had been to sing mortals to war. On street corners and in smoky pubs. In the university yard and by the mossy riverside. But that would not be her last verse, even if she was the only divine remaining.
With her harp in hand and magic gathering at her fingertips, Enva vanished into the dark.
