But she felt something from him, as well. Trust. Olgun trusted her. Whatever she decided, he'd support.
Widdershins sighed, and leaned forward in her chair. “I…” She realized her voice was shaking, and held out a hand toward Renard. Without having to ask what she meant, he slapped the bottle into her waiting palm. Widdershins took a few loud swigs, ignoring the trickle of alcohol running down her chin. “I'm sorry,” she said then. “I've told almost nobody the whole story, and…” She cast about helplessly. “I'm not going to demand oaths in the gods' names or anything. I just need…I need to know that you won't tell anyone. None of you. Please.”
Renard and Robin-though the girl knew most of what was to come already-nodded instantly. More slowly, Igraine, Sicard, Ferrand, and Julien followed. Only Paschal hesitated. “What if…?”
The major coughed once, and the constable nodded. “Yes. All right.”
“His name is Olgun,” Widdershins said-and with those words, it felt as though one weight had lifted from her shoulders, to be replaced by a second. “He's-well, he was-a god of the northmen. Not part of the Pact. I worship him, and he…he protects me, as best he can. He works with me. He's…” She smiled, knowing how this would sound. “He's my friend.”
Olgun beamed at her.
“Don't let it go to your head. You're annoying sometimes, too.” And then she couldn't help but laugh, not at Olgun's response, but at the looks she was getting. “I know I sound crazy, but…”
“No,” Igraine said, seemingly unaware that she was shaking her head as though she would never, could never, stop. “No, I believe you. Now that I know what I'm sensing, it's so clear.”
“To me as well,” Sicard added. “But I don't understand. No god should be granting that much power to any one person. How powerful is this Olgun?”
“He's not, really,” Widdershins admitted. “He's just more focused. I…I'm his only worshipper.”
The bishop, the monk, and the priestess all rocked back as though struck. “I've never even heard of such a thing!” Sicard gasped. “This is astonishing!”
“How could it even happen?” Brother Ferrand demanded. “To any god, let alone a northern deity who should have no presence here at all?”
Widdershins took a deep breath; if any revelation would cause her problems, it was the one yet to come. It wouldn't mean anything to most of the others, but to the Guardsmen in their midst…
Robin crept forward and took Widdershins's hand. The thief smiled at her, and bulled ahead.
“Olgun's worship was brought to Davillon by an explorer,” she told them. “There were-there were a number of us, for a while. The others…” She cleared her throat, blinked away a few tears before they could form. “The others were slaughtered a few years ago. Only I survived.”
Julien went abruptly pale, his hands clenching on the arms of his chair. He's put it all together….
“Your Eminence?” Igraine asked. “How does that change things?”
“I honestly don't know,” the bishop replied. “It depends on so many factors. When Olgun grants her his power, is he changing her, or the world around her? Will the spell even serve as a proper conduit? There are so many details to…”
Widdershins let the conversation drift away from her. She didn't need to hear the details and the discussions, the philosophy and the debate. It wouldn't mean anything to her anyway. Gently disentangling her hand from Robin's, she rose and wandered to the far side of the room, to stand stiffly before the shrine that she'd left standing in honor of the late Genevieve Marguilles.
She wasn't alone long, as she knew she wouldn't be. She heard the squeak-snap of a floorboard behind her, saw his shadow darken the white cross of Banin atop the stone.
“You're Adrienne Satti,” he said gruffly. It very clearly was not a question.
“That was the first night I ever saw you, Julien,” she whispered, hugging herself against a sudden chill.
“Saw…?”
“I was hiding in the rafters when the Guard showed up. Too afraid to come down, too afraid you wouldn't believe a word I had to say.”
“I don't know if we would have,” he admitted. “But…Gods, Shins, you should have said something! Over two and a half years…Certainly nobody's going to believe anything you have to say about it now!”
“Nobody?” She turned, gazing up into his face. He was close, closer than she would have thought….“Not even you?”
“Widdershins…Adrienne…”
“Because, after all this, if you honestly think I could possibly have killed all those people, all my friends you-you don't-”
“Widdershins? Don't be stupid.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Of course I know you didn't do it, you little idiot.” His grin widened beneath his mustache. “I'm violating every oath I ever took by keeping this secret-except for the one about upholding the gods' justice. I know the law won't give you a fair chance, so the law can go hang.”
“Wow.” She squeezed his hand in hers. (And oh my gods, when did I even take his hand?!) “I bet that was really, really hard for you to say, you righteous Guardsman, you.”
“Not as much as you'd expect,” he said, sounding vaguely bemused.
“So…What now, Julien?”
She knew it was coming, saw it in his face the instant she asked. Something akin to terror ran its fingertips down her spine as he leaned in, and she was frozen, trying to decide which way to run, when his lips touched hers.
At which point all thought of running-at which point all thought-was utterly lost, trampled into the dust beneath the sudden violent pounding of her heartbeat. She knew she made some sort of sound, though whether it was a cry or a gasp or a moan or some bizarre crossbreed of all three she couldn't possibly tell. And then there was nothing but his taste on her tongue, the fabric of his tabard and the muscles of his back beneath her grasping hands.
Where things might have gone from there, Widdershins had no notion-and, she realized with another surge of strangely delicious fear, didn't care-had Julien himself not pulled away after about two or three decades. “We're, uh, not exactly alone,” he whispered with a peculiar hitch in his voice.
“What?” she asked dreamily, her expression utterly unfocused. And then, with a quick blink, “Oh! Um…I, um…”
As Widdershins appeared to be too busy turning red to actually form a cogent sentence, Julien simply smiled, gave her hand a final squeeze, and moved to rejoin the others, all of whom were very palpably not looking in the couple's general direction.
Widdershins coughed once, ran her fingers through her hair (which didn't need brushing), told Olgun to shut up (though he wasn't saying anything), and, shoulders straight and chin jutting, strode over to the others.
Had she been less preoccupied with what had just happened, or with covering for what had just happened, or with the homicidal faerie haunting the city, she might have noted Renard grinding his teeth, or Robin's red-rimmed eyes-but odds were that even if she had, she'd never have correctly interpreted them.
“So,” she said, dropping into an empty chair and practically daring anyone to comment. “Have we decided anything?”
“Um…” Igraine coughed delicately. “His Eminence and I have discussed the magic in question, and we're fairly certain that you could briefly share a portion of your-that is, Olgun's-gifts with someone else.”
“Well, that makes things easier! I mean, I'm not sure that even two of me would be enough to take on Iruoch, but it's certainly-”