20. My Real Name
20
MY REAL NAME
Their days ended and began with one another.
After the exasperation of running a city and a realm, Cassian would appear in Finnian’s home. Some nights, Finnian was waiting for him. Others, Cassian would mindlessly sort through the clutter of his house and find places for the objects, or he would attempt to make coffee in the percolator—a mortal task he wasn’t familiar with.
Finnian had a stock of roasted beans stored away in his cabinet. With the mortar and pestle, Cassian ground them to powder. The tricky part, though, was figuring out how to light the stove without the assistance of magic. It appeared Finnian did not have any matches lying around.
“I cannot make your coffee if you do not supply me with a way to create a flame,” Cassian chided him one night.
They were lying side by side in Finnian’s bed, the sheets tangled around their bare legs.
“You do not have to make me coffee,” he said with a crooked smile
“After a long day of work seems to be the most appropriate time to drink it. That is when I enjoy my beverages the most.”
Finnian turned over on his side, propping an elbow up and resting his head on his hand. The muscles in his bicep flickered beneath the skin, and his long hair brushed over his chest. “All I can think about throughout my day is you in my bed. If you think I am going to stop and drink coffee before kissing you, you’ve gone mad.”
A blush heated Cassian’s cheeks. He hid it by staring up at the ceiling, disapproving of the somersaulting in his stomach.
The next day, he brought his own matches.
When Finnian appeared in the middle of his kitchen, he smiled at the steaming cup on the table, and then devoured Cassian in a mess of wet kisses down his jaw, his neck, over the length of his torso to his waistband.
Cassian’s mind slipped into a fog. He barely registered the sly swivel of Finnian’s wrist magically unfastening the buttons of his trousers, or Finnian dropping to his knees.
“Neat trick, Little?—”
Finnian ceaselessly praised him with his tongue.
The back of Cassian’s head hit the wall. Huffy moans sprang from his throat. His fingers weaved in Finnian’s strands, tugging them at the scalp. Waves of pleasure liquified his insides. He moved his hips, chasing the gathering of nerves and need.
“ Finny .” His name left Cassian’s mouth in a scant breath. He fought through the trembling of his limbs and tried to pull out of Finnian’s mouth. “I am?—”
Finnian dug his grip firmer into the back of Cassian’s waist, holding him in place, swallowing even deeper.
A moan fled out of Cassian and the tension gripping his abdomen released.
He shuddered, bliss floating through him.
Finnian licked his lips, smirking as he rose to his feet. He strolled across the kitchen, grabbed the cup, and twisted to look over at Cassian as he took a sip.
“You’re right,” he said. “I feel refreshed.”
Cassian relaxed his weight against the wall and let out a breathy laugh, his stomach dipping at the sight of Finnian’s dimpled smile over the rim of the cup.
At the end of each week, Finnian would spend his nights at a tavern with Eleanor and Isla—a social outing Cassian would join in as Everett. The setting was often loud and rambunctious.
Finnian mostly sat quietly with his drink, the corners of his mouth pulled up subtly as he watched Eleanor and Isla ramble on. Though, Cassian did not miss the way Finnian’s eyes tracked their lips as they spoke, or how he occasionally misunderstood their words and replied to them with something out of context.
Eleanor and Isla simply repeated what they’d said, but Cassian could see the flush of awkwardness under the tan complexion of Finnian’s cheeks.
He easily recalled what Finnian had told him about overcrowded settings with loud noises, and how his brain had to work harder to listen.
It made sense, when they’d arrive home, and Finnian would peel the hearing aid from his right ear with a relieving sigh. After, he would retreat down to the basement and revel in the silence of his potions, while Cassian plucked a book from his shelf and entertained himself with a mortal story, granting Finnian the quiet he needed to soothe his overstimulated brain.
“You do not have to go,” Cassian said to him from the bed one evening. “Surely your apprentices would understand.”
Finnian stood beside the bed, dressing. “I know I do not, but I enjoy the time with Eleanor and Isla, as well as the tavern’s atmosphere.” His arms paused from buttoning his shirt, and he glanced back at Cassian. “I will not let Mira take that away from me.”
There it was, that fierceness of his that Cassian loved so.
And the truth was, he enjoyed the nights out as much as Finnian did. The distance from the Land and the souls and the constant decision-making was nice.
One night, they sat across from each other, with Finnian casually sipping on his pint and playing with the teal gemstone strapped around his neck. The tavern was mostly empty, and the voices were a tolerant murmur. Cassian could tell from the attentive light in Finnian’s eyes that he was unbothered by the noise level.
Eleanor and Isla had dispersed to get refills or chat with friends, leaving Cassian alone with Finnian all to himself.
“That gemstone,” Cassian said, pointing to it. “It’s where you store the souls of your ghouls, yes?”
“It’s a chrysocolla.” Finnian gave the chain a forceful tug and it snapped off his neck. “A pendant, actually. A family heirloom passed down to Mira.” He held it across the table for Cassian to inspect.
Cassian leaned forward with his pint in hand. “She gave it to you?”
“No.” Finnian laughed lightly. “I stole it.”
Cassian passed him a flat look, secretly enjoying the glimpse of his dimples. “Of course you did.”
“Since it’s been passed down through the generations, an abundance of divine energy resides within it,” he explained, that disturbing light twinkling in his gaze any time he talked about witchcraft or sorcery. “It is not so different from a relic. Items with intense divine power are limitless pools of energy to siphon from.”
A hard look passed over his face as he stared at the crystal. “The first time I used it was on Alke, after Mira murdered him. I lacked knowledge and control over my magic back then, but with the pendant and the magical properties in the water hole Naia and I used to sneak off to, I managed to revive him.”
Finnian had only told him of the memory once. It came up when Alke’s undead form appeared in his house, perched atop the stove, watching quietly as Cassian boiled water in the kettle to make himself a cup of tea. Apparently, the bird felt a semblance of trust now to show itself to Cassian, confident he would not relinquish its soul to the Land.
Cassian had thought about it, but boydens were loyal creatures. Even if he did cast its soul back into the Land, it had the capability of traveling between realms. Their devotion to their masters triumphed over the laws of the Universe.
“That must’ve been difficult for you to endure at such an early age.” Cassian wished to reach over and grab Finnian’s hand to comfort him, but he was hesitant. They were in a tavern full of mortals, and Cassian had to remind himself, in their society, two men touching in any intimate sense could potentially attract negative attention.
Finnian ran his thumb over the pendant, lost in the memory. “It’s a myth that boydens obey High Gods over their masters. I was convinced that was the only reason Alke answered Mira’s call that day, but then, years later, I learned I was the first of my lineage, a High God, and it didn’t make sense.”
“A boyden , first and foremost, will do whatever is necessary to protect their master,” Cassian said.
“Precisely. Alke landed on Mira’s arm that day to keep her from abusing me.” Finnian looked up at him then, the melancholy visible in his eyes. “I have wrongs that I wish to make right—with Naia and Father. And one day, I will see to it that Mira falls as a High Goddess.”
Cassian felt a determination rise steadily in him. If setting out to make things right would bring Finnian happiness, he was willing to do everything in his power to make sure all of Finnian’s plans came to fruition.
Cassian stretched his leg out underneath the table, caressing Finnian’s ankle with his own. “I swear, the day that happens, I will ensure you are present to witness it.”
Finnian gave a weak smile and drew his attention back to the pendant. “She never attempted to find this again. I believe she was too distraught by the events that night.” The teasing lilt of his tone reappeared as he clasped the chain around his neck. The pendant rested on his sternum.
“Do you have to use the gemstone each time you revive someone?” Cassian asked. “I watched you use it the night in Augustus, when you revived the dog, but not at the cemetery…”
He realized his error when Finnian tilted his head, lips curving. “You were following me.”
A blush nipped at Cassian’s cheeks, dismissing his previous stalkerish behavior with a wave. “That’s besides the point.”
Finnian chuckled.
“No.” He took a sip of his stein and said, “As I grew to learn more about myself as a mage, I was able to craft an incantation. Back when I was constantly running from you and your endeavors to relinquish all my souls, I’d hide them in the pendant.” Finnian took another gulp.
“ Vivifica is how I pull the souls straight from your Land and place them inside their physical bodies. Excitare ex somno is how I summon them from my pendant to assist me, if I am not near a graveyard or corpse. The pendant’s power helps me partially restore their physicality, giving them husks to fight in.”
Cassian ran a hand through his hair. The texture and length were not his own. Sometimes, he forgot he was under the appearance of another.
He dropped his hand and let out a breath, unsure how to ask the unnerving question prodding at him. “The temples resurrected across the city by your followers, do they also perform these spells?”
If they did, they hadn’t been successful. Cassian was meticulously aware of the souls in his Land, and since Finnian had made his vow, only those who were citizens of his city had not arrived.
Finnian inclined his head, mischief glittering in his gaze as he rested back in his chair. “If they were, how would you respond?”
The challenge provoked the High God in him to be taken seriously.
Cassian swiped his thumb over his bottom lip, eyeing him in a warning. “I may not have it in me to curse you, Little Nightmare, but the same cannot be said for others.”
“ Finny ,” he corrected in a snide manner that irked Cassian.
“At the moment, you are acting like a Little Nightmare .”
Finnian huffed out a smug laugh. “I am actually quite curious to see what hides behind this tamed facade you present to the rest of the world.” Under the table, Finnian grazed his foot up the side of Cassian’s shin. “The day you unleashed a bit of your true power onto the triplets, I could see a glimpse of it then.”
Tendrils of heat crawled up Cassian’s thigh. He raised an eyebrow, pausing the rim of his pint at his lips. “Shall I head to one of your temples now and put on a show?”
Finnian’s eyes darkened. “As much as I would find that arousing to witness, necromancy is not a teachable art. It is a talent you are born with. You do not have to fret about reckless mages mimicking my ghouls.”
Cassian had to swim past I would find that arousing and the ravenous way Finnian was watching him to comprehend what all he’d said.
“I suppose I have nothing to worry about then.” He downed the rest of his stein in a gulp and licked his lips, aware of Finnian’s eyes tracking his movements.
Silence settled between them for a beat, thick and rising with a tension tingling across Cassian’s skin.
“The night is still young,” Finnian finally said, his voice sultry and glazed like molasses.
Blood rushed to Cassian’s groin, and he pushed his empty glass away. “I am ready to depart when you are.”
Cassian lay on his stomach, one arm stretched underneath the pillows, eyes closed. The sunrise of another day bled through his lids. Another morning tangled in the satin cloth of Finnian’s bed.
Finnian’s fingertip stroked feather-light drawings along the scope of Cassian’s back. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but the sensation of Finnian’s finger brushing along the middle of his back had not ceased.
A flutter caught in his stomach and he smiled into the pillow. It had been centuries since he’d slept.
He blinked the sleep away from his eyes and kept still. If he shuffled, Finnian would know he was awake. He wanted to savor the moment for a bit longer, before he sat up with nothing left but to return to his Land.
The War of Sons had ceaselessly spread through the Mortal Land. Two sons from the same country—Julian and Silas.
In his childhood, Silas had been shunned and banished. He rose to monarchy in the neighboring country and reigned—just to overrule the family who tossed him aside. It was not about gaining territory. It was about revenge. A battle that had infected the nations, forcing other nearby countries to become involved.
The death count had grown significantly. With it, a choir of prayers sang to deities. Specifically, the High Goddess of Peace and the High Goddess of War.
All deities had mortals they favored. It was how they inevitably concerned themselves among mortal disputes. Which then turned them into deity disputes. It was the Council’s job to shut down any opposition between deities to avoid wars amongst their kind.
Cassian had already heard rumors of the High Goddess of Peace and the High Goddess of War at each other’s throats. It was only a matter of time until Cassian would be forced to step in and threaten one of them with a curse, simply to rein their personal feelings towards their favored mortals back in.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Finnian’s fingertip stroked up the knolls of his spine to his nape.
Cassian smiled into his pillow. It was impossible to hide from him. Beneath Finnian’s aloof demeanor, he was always watching, observing, noticing every subtle shift of skin, muscle, and tone. This was one detail Cassian had quickly discovered in the few weeks of their relationship.
He rolled over, knowing Finnian did not have his hearing aid in. He’d recently started removing it in Cassian’s presence, when they were in the safety of his home, or during sex. It was a quality Cassian took pride in.
“The war,” he replied.
Finnian was propped up on his elbow, expression sated, looking intently at him. “The casualties?”
Cassian reached up and twirled one of his wavy strands. “Yes. Mothers, fathers, children. All civilians. Separated from one another.”
“Such constant despair must be strenuous for you.” Finnian frowned, and Cassian could detect the line of tension under his tone.
“War is ruthless and often over issues that can easily be resolved with words. I despise when the edges of it touch those who are innocent. To be quite honest, I am relieved when souls enter my Land, because pain and suffering can no longer touch them. But when they first arrive, they are afraid and their emotions are often taxing. I cannot make another understand what I already know, and yet, at the same time, I feel sympathy for them.”
Cassian wasn’t sure when he’d stopped talking about his truths, his thoughts. He gave Mavros, Nathaira, and Shivani a portion of these things, but only what grazed at the surface level. He’d never had the desire to scrape up the muck that had collected deep beneath and hand it over to another, as most tended to avoid dirtying their hands with someone else’s turmoil.
Although, after he’d said everything, it didn’t occur to him that Finnian might grow agitated by his ideology of death. It was a topic they both saw with very different perspectives.
To Cassian’s surprise, though, Finnian grabbed his hand and gently unraveled his fingers from the wavy strand.
“I want to believe the things you say.” He brought Cassian’s knuckles to his lips. “But I simply cannot make sense of death in my head.”
Cassian could see the hardness in his eyes at the mention of death and separation. Swirling in the midst of that hardness was a primal fear, and it drowned in his gaze.
Cassian’s expression softened, and he said, “Ask me whatever you wish, and I will tell you anything.”
“Do you…” Finnian shifted and lay on his back. He positioned Cassian’s palm over his chest. The tip of his index finger ran in circles over the tendons on the back of Cassian’s hand as he stared up at the ceiling. “Naia, do you know if she is well?”
Shame gripped Cassian’s chest. The question was a blatant reminder of the deal he’d struck with Mira. “I hear she has taken a friendship with her servant, Gianna.”
“May I inquire how you know?” Finnian asked, his voice low, quiet.
Cassian flipped his hand over and idly played with Finnian’s fingers, stroking up and down each one. “Your father calls for me every once in a while.”
Finnian glanced over at him, eyes bright with interest. “Calls for you?”
Cassian smiled, his fingertips exploring up the contours of Finnian’s chest. “Usually through a vine snaking up my ankle, or sometimes, he ravishes in the dramatic and sends tremors through the terrain of my Land. He tells me of what goes on in Kaimana, as he still has a deep connection with its flora.”
Finnian chuckled, his dimples flickering on each cheek. “Of course he does.”
Gooseflesh dotted over the skin of his chest as Cassian’s fingers ran down his abdomen. “If you wish to visit your father, I will arrange it.”
Something flitted across Finnian’s face, signs of hesitation, reservation, sorrow. Cassian’s hand stopped moving, his fingers resting on Finnian’s navel. He studied him for a beat.
“I do not think I am the person I need to be in order to make him proud,” Finnian confessed, the burden of remorse pulling at his features.
“He talks of you all the time. And Naia. Relives years of memories he has with you both. When he runs out of those stories, he bores me with his grand adventures, turning insects into relics and such.”
A bittersweet gleam appeared in his eyes as he continued to stare up at the ceiling, his fingers lazily coasting back and forth down Cassian’s forearm. “He made me and Naia promise to take care of each other before he was escorted away. I have failed him.”
Cassian's heart squeezed, despising the visible shadows of pain warping over Finnian. He ran his palm over Finnian’s chest, up his neck, and cupped his jaw, guiding his eyes to look at him. “There is nothing you could do that would make Vale love you any less. You are a fool if you believe so.”
Finnian gave a frail smile. “And you are a fool if you trust me enough to take me to your Land and not attempt to free him.”
Cassian scoffed, giving his chin a playful squeeze before letting go. “It’s impossible, but you are welcome to try.” He shifted onto his back, stretching out his legs and curling his toes underneath Finnian’s feet.
“That is it? No threats of curses?” His eyebrows raised. “I know how much you relish in handing those out.”
Cassian laughed, running a hand through his hair. “I am not a monster who enjoys cursing.”
“To most, you are.” Finnian flicked away the curly strand that relentlessly dangled in his face. “You are Cassian, the High God of Death and Curses. ” He recited it in an evangelistic tone, overexaggerating the fear of his title.
“Cassius.” The truth escaped him before he could overthink on whether or not to share it.
Finnian sat up and looked down at him. “Hm?”
It had been several millennia since Cassian had experienced the adrenaline-laced thrill pumping through his veins—the way a mortal described standing over a ledge or a rooftop.
He swallowed and slightly rotated his head to face Finnian. “My real name is Cassius,” he said. “I was named after my father. When I became the High God of Death and Curses, I knew my title would supply me with a list of enemies. The less they knew about me, the better. So, I introduced myself among deities as Cassian . Only my siblings know of my real name. And now you.”
“ Cass-i-us .” Finnian said each syllable slowly, like balancing a precious gemstone on his tongue.
The notes of it sent pulses through Cassian’s stomach. “I like the way it sounds on your lips.”
“You must trust me to reveal something so personal.”
Cassian held his eyes for a long moment. His adoration for Finnian filled every crevice of his soul, like magma solidifying in a stone’s cracks. The stronger his adoration grew, the more he was plagued by haunting images of what their future could become.
“You are someone who cares deeply for those close to your heart. I do not question your character, Finnian. Never have. I am enamored by you. Every day. But I fear my desire for you will only hurt you.”
That infuriating boldness sparked to life in his gaze and his expression pinched. “If it is your enemies you fear, they do not stand a chance.”
“Long ago, Ruelle and I had a disagreement. Since, she has longed to see me happy just to take her revenge.”
At the mention of the High Goddess, Finnian’s jaw set. “How much control does she have over your Fate?”
“Ruelle weaves the threads of mortals’ Fates from the moment they enter the womb. She can send them to riches, or she can send them to ruin. However, she has less power over us deities, though she can still see the course of our threads. That alone gives her great power over our lives. She will use you to get to me, Finnian. If that frightens you, I understand. I can leave now and never?—”
“Whatever she throws at us, we will face. Together .” Finnian said, full of resolve. “I am not afraid of Ruelle.”
Together.
A guttural instinct rose in Cassian, sharp and fierce. No matter how steep, how brutal the path became, he would do everything in his power to protect Finnian. Though, the selfless part of him knew the best way to protect Finnian was to leave him be. Keep their individual threads from entangling further than they already had.
“I do not think you understand. I tried to forget about you, to stay away from you. I’ve walked this long purposely avoiding growing close to another, knowing it was what Ruelle waited for.”
Finnian lay on his side, pulling his body flush against Cassian. His brow wrinkled in disapproval. “That is no way to live.”
Cassian sighed, tucking Finnian’s wavy strands behind his ear to ensure he could hear, exposing the scar on the base of his jaw. “She’s done it before.”
“To one of your prior lovers?”
“Saoirse, the High Goddess of Light. We were together for nearly a decade before Ruelle intervened.” Cassian brushed his thumb over the harsh patch of skin under Finnian’s earlobe. Movement to avoid the twisting in his gut. “She manipulated the fates of those who crossed with Saoirse’s, making her life a perpetual existence of hellish bad luck. Mortals banded together and raided her temples, her followers fell ill to disease, and a mage murdered her demigod daughter.”
Cassian paused, the pad of his thumb following the scar down Finnian’s jawline.
Finnian stared at him with an unnerving intensity.
He wasn’t sure if it was Finnian coming to terms with the severity of the situation, or if it was merely because he spoke of a past lover.
Cassian grazed the back of his fingers up the scar to Finnian’s ear. “Eventually, Saoirse could no longer handle the torment, and we went our separate ways. Ruelle continued to weave obstacles in between us to keep our threads from intertwining again.”
Finnian remained quiet, eyes sharp and intently tracking Cassian’s face.
Cassian lowered his hand and met Finnian’s eyes, a silent plea to share his thoughts.
“Do you still long for her?” he asked.
Buttery warmth spread throughout Cassian’s chest, flattered by the rigid jealousy in Finnian’s tone.
A small smile pulled at his lips. “I do not. It is why Ruelle no longer meddles in affairs between us. They hold no leverage. The last I saw of Saoirse was a year ago during my niece’s birthday celebration, and I can assure you there were no lingering feelings.”
Finnian let out a terse breath through his nose, bringing his hand up to hold the side of Cassian’s face. “Sounds like Saoirse did not care for you the way I do.”
“It is easy for you to say such things, but what of your city, your apprentices, your followers, your title? Ruelle could ruin it all?—”
Finnian pulled him into a kiss.
His lips spread, inviting in and caressing Finnian’s tongue. The earthy, sweet taste of licorice, Finnian’s favorite snack, filled his mouth. His thoughts, his worries, they snuffed out like a candle’s flame.
Finnian gently broke away, fusing his forehead to Cassian’s. “There is nothing to fear. Ruelle could strip away all that I have, but I would never leave you behind to her destruction,” he whispered.
The vow branded deeply within Cassian. An assurance he never knew he craved.
“ When she comes for us,” Finnian continued, “we will handle it. Until then, savor the moment. You are here, with me, in my home, and there is nothing that threatens us. We have time to figure it out.”
He rested his head down on the pillow. “Now, tell me stories—how you became a deity, your journey in the Land. Tell me of all your past lovers. I long to know everything about your life, Cassius.”
Cassian lifted his hand once more and grazed the back of his fingers down the side of Finnian’s neck, reveling in the frisson that rippled across the skin in his wake, mentally reciting what Finnian had said to him back in Augustus.
Be in the moment. No matter how much his mind leapt into the future, eager to plot out and prepare all the ways Ruelle could come between them.
He desired to keep this peace, to focus on Finnian’s presence at his side, regardless of what their future held.
“Whatever you wish.”