Ravenous (Taint of the Gods #1)

63. RIEKA

63

RIEKA

T he balcony where we stood was on the northern face of the Bastion overlooking the parade as it marched down The Red Road. The ten gods, now eleven which made up The Core stood in attendance, each one just as beautiful and elegant as Lemir. And just as cruel.

The Generals who lead The Republic in accordance with their wishes stood on the balcony below, the medals and awards of their stations emblazoned on their chests.

Below them, dressed in greens and golds—the colours of The Republic—were the Naven and Nomen, the two castes that made up Kensillan society. To them, today was a celebration, a day of displaying their wealth and power over those the gods once called Blessed. But it was anything but that. Those Blessed who littered the sidewalks and the walls, those whose attire was tan and grey, whose heads were shaved and whose necks were collared, stood with their heads hung low as those with pins on their chests cheered in joy and excitement. To them today was a reminder that to the world, they were nothing and no one.

“Stand up straight,” Lemir scolded me from several meters away when he caught me slouching on the balcony rail. He barely offered me a glance as he continued to quietly converse with the gods beside him. I hadn’t bothered to learn their names since Lemir was a possessive cunt, and refused to abide my talking to anyone, let alone him in their presence.

I did as he asked, standing like all the other demure playthings the gods liked to show off on this balcony. Two dozen Blessed surrounded me, exquisitely dressed, and utterly indistinguishable from the Naven of society. But in truth, we were no different to the Thralls. Vacant expressions and collared. Ours were just invisible, our bodies bound to our gods by their will alone.

Anticipation suddenly scented the air as the mayor of Aredyn rose to the podium, the attendees lulling themselves into silence.

“And now, as a display of their magnanimity, The Core shall accept offers of trade.”

I knew what to expect next. The Thralls in the Bastion, when they thought no one was listening gossiped about it. A source of entertainment as much as it was hope.

An offer of trade was the chance for a citizen, of any rank and station to proposition The Core. If the offer was enticing enough, the gods would grant them their request.

The first two who approached the podium were Nomen, their propositions that of weak men trying to claw at power by airing Naven dirty secrets. Only one secret interested a member of The Core, and he did not give his reasons why. He simply granted the Nomen’s request and sent the others away.

The rest of the propositions came from Thralls, and only ever those owned by Charter Companies who were permitted attendance due to the holiday. No Naven-owned Thrall would ever seek an audience with The Core. They wouldn’t have been permitted attendance.

None of their trades were deemed acceptable to The Core.

The crowd parted at the bottom of the podium to allow the next citizen to step forward, whispers rising to the balcony as they ascended the stairs.

Tan smock, brown trousers, a black jacket, and a collar. That was not the uniform of a Chartered Thrall.

Some Naven’s slave had risked death to meet with The Core.

He’d piqued their interest. More than half of the pantheon approached the balcony rail to look upon the brave Thrall. Lemir included. His bored interest was quite rare to obtain.

The mayor returned to his speakerphone. “What is it you seek?”

The young man grounded his feet but never looked up at the balcony. A rare choice, and one that could risk a rejection before he’d even opened his mouth.

Always look a god in the eye, was not just a saying.

“I seek freedom from the chains that bind me,” he had declared after brushing a blonde wave of hair behind his ear.

His scent was unusual for a Current, a mixture of oil and salt water.

The mayor asked the next question, making sure his voice carried as far down the Red Road as possible.

“And what is it you offer in exchange?”

The man adjusted his stance to pull something from the inside of his jacket, the lining a dark red. He held a jar, the contents illuminated by a soft golden glow. “I offer The Core the current location of the group calling themselves The Kensillan Resistance.”

The crowd instantly became unsettled. Muffled whispers and tension filled the air like smoke.

I moved to the railing, curious like the others about this brave Thrall.

“Brazen more like!” Lemir commented as he stepped closer to the balcony to gaze down upon the Thrall. “And how is it you obtained such information?” he said broadcasting his voice down to the crowd.

The Thrall glanced down at the jar in his hand and then placed it down at his feet. “I made a bet,” the man said as he straightened and looked up at the balcony.

But instead of seeking out the eyes of the god who had found his offer worthy of a response, his gaze fell upon me. The man then raised his hands in front of him and began making unusual motions with his fingers.

“And I lost it.” My body stilled at the realisation I understood the gesture. No one else noticed.

“I am here to deliver payment,” the Thrall’s hands said next.

As The Core contemplated his offer, I found myself replying, the words spoken by my own hands. “To who?”

A cocky smile appeared on the Thrall’s face, a smile that didn’t look right, almost as if it didn’t quite belong on those features. “The person whose memories are in this jar,” he replied, the signs swift.

Unable to constrain the fluttering in my stomach as the expression in his eyes softened, I asked him why he was telling me.

“Because she asked me to return them to her.”

My hands moved freely, effortlessly in their response. “She who?”

“You,” he signed.

A knot tightened in my stomach. “Me? I don’t know you.”

But it was possible wasn’t it, that I might know him, that the memories in that jar were mine. I’d had them taken, maybe I could have given them to someone for safekeeping.

The Thrall brought his hands together slowly. “But I know you.”

Lemir called my name, finally realising that I was having a conversation he was not privy to. At least not yet.

“Prove it?” I signed, knowing it wouldn’t take long for my master to read the man’s thoughts.

“You have a name he does not know. A name you gave yourself. A name all your own.”

He can’t know that; how does he know that? How do I know that?

“Odelle! Stop that right now!” Lemir ordered when he heard my thoughts.

I signed to the stranger. “Say it!”

The Thrall raised a single hand and performed a sign that caused every part of my body, every cell to tremble.

“Rieka.”

I looked down at the jar, then back to the Thrall’s ocean-blue eyes.

My hands were quick. “Break it.”

His boot smashed the glass and I remembered everything.

I remembered the plan.

48 Hours after Kosha’s death

“Rieka?”

My hand paused on the white flap of the Soulstitcher’s tent.

Rhydian’s alive.

He should not be here. I put Kosha’s collar on him specifically to stop him from following me. If he was here, what had happened to the passengers?

Rhydian’s alive!

If he touched me, it would all be over.

He called my name again, forcing me to spin around and face him, to stop him from touching me. “Don’t come any closer!”

Rhydian came to an abrupt halt. I breathed in deeply, my eyes desperately searching for traces of The Cut on his body. Wounds that should still be there if I had failed.

A soft smile rose to his lips. “I am well. See?” He brushed a hand over his beard where the long gaping wound had been only a few days ago. He slid the sleeves of his jacket up, presenting me with his hands, to show he bore no more cuts.

There was no blood in the air.

I fisted my hands at my sides to stop myself from reaching out to touch him to check for myself.

“I got your message,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “ The train won’t run without Imaris blood , I almost missed it. I was so angry at you for leaving that I was going to burn it. Didn’t take much, just a drop and the collars all just…fell off.” His voice softened. “We set the train to automate. It will be a while before they realise there are no more passengers on the rail to hunt.”

I held back my tears as my relief threatened to overwhelm me.

It had worked. By giving myself up, his bargain with Lemir had been fulfilled. Without a collar, Rhydian was free.

Sensing my happiness he approached once more.

“Stop!” I cried, skittering back another step. “You need to leave. You come near me and I won’t be able to do this and we all die.”

I could feel my chest heaving. Rhydian was going to die if he stayed with me. I’d done this for him, to save him. Lemir was coming, and if he was with me when Lemir arrived, Lemir would kill Rhydian to punish me.

Rhydian shook his head, a cocky smile on his face as he ignored my pleas and meandered towards me in that cocky debonair way of his, closing the distance between us inch my inch. “I made you an oath, remember? To never let you be claimed, enslaved, or chained against your wishes by another living being, be they Human, Tainted or God, You leave here with him now whilst I’m here to bear witness and I’m breaking my oath.”

My anger escaped me in a mirthless laugh. “You fucking Bloodhound!” Alive and still a bastard.

I closed the distance and kissed him.

The steady calm that came with his scent was intoxicating. Earth and pine. Spring winds and winter blooms. The Bloodhound and his prey. I would die in his arms if he’d let me. I probably would soon enough if he stayed.

Rhydian’s back crashed into the alley wall as I pressed my body into his, desperate to feel in control of something.

When I’d bespelled myself here to Lantern Town after putting the code into the train system, I’d done so under the belief I would never see Rhydian again. A pain only bearable because without me he would be safe. But once again the gods forsaken man had to screw that up as well. I’d left my heart with him, why’d he have to bring it back to me?

When we finally drew apart, even before he had spoken, I knew what he was going to suggest.

“No, I can’t run Rhydian. Not anymore.”

He withdrew something from his pocket and raised it. A black-handled dagger. “You ran from this.”

Because he was your grandfather, an admittance by my inner voice that caused a dull ache to form in my chest.

“That was different.” I took a step back, but he stopped me, gripping my coat to keep me pressed against him. Possessively. Like a wolf.

“Because you had no other choice?” he asked, his sarcasm mocking.

Beneath my hand, his heart beat steadily. “Because you loved him and you love me and I didn’t want to make you choose.”

Because only a monster…

“Because only a monster can love a monster? I told you Rieka. You could kill a thousand gods and I would still love you. I would still choose you.”

His beard bristled against my fingertips as I stroked his cheek. “Well considering I didn’t kill the first one. I’m not sure you can keep using that little declaration.”

Rhydian brushed my hair from my face, playing with the black and white braid slung over my shoulder. “You should know I looked into your memories.”

When I pushed away, Rhydian didn’t force me to stay. The arrow. But if he had seen them, why had he come? Surely he knew what I was, what I was capable of? How could he still come after me after seeing all that I was?

My voice trembled. “Why?”

“I think we’ve established why Rieka. You’ve not been the most forthcoming woman on the continent.”

I glared at him for the comment. “Yeah, for good reason.”

Rhydian finally pushed himself off the wall, his expression serious. “Rieka, he lied to you. About everything. He made you think things that were never true. You’re not the monster you think you are. He just made you believe that.

“The mind can lie Rieka, but blood cannot. What he stole from you, I can give it back. All of it. You would be whole again.”

My mind was reeling. I expected betrayal from Lemir, manipulation even, but never had I expected to discover he’d just alter my memories entirely.

“You’re not going back to him Rieka.” Rhydian reached for my hand, squeezing it as if he needed the contact more than I did. As if he were worried, I was going to bolt the first chance I got and he was tethering himself to me.

“It is not your choice,” I told him. “It is mine!’’ My thumb brushed against something, and when I looked down I realised neither one of us had removed our marriage bands.

“Then make a better one.”

I’d been so caught up in Rhydian and everything he’d just told me I’d forgotten where I was in the first place.

The Soulstitcher cleared her throat as she stepped through the tent doorway, startling the both of us when she spoke.

“It has been my experience with gods,” she continued, drawing from a rather long-stemmed smoking pipe. “They cannot take what you do not possess.”

She flicked her long red hair over her shoulder. “Perhaps, if you know what it is you are willing to part with, retrieving it in your own time may prove fruitful. I hear The Core is throwing a festival to welcome a new god into the Pantheon. Perhaps,” she added, pulling down at the collar of her blouse. “There are more like yourself in Kensilla than you expect.” Pink scars stretched the length of her neck, as though something had spent quite some time in contact with her skin.

Like an avalanche, the memories struck and they didn’t stop.

The memories Rhydian possessed, the memories I’d given the Soulstitcher, they all clicked into place like a puzzle.

I saw the child who befriended the abandoned wolf pup, who learned to bake from a wingless mother and fight from the father who hated war. I saw the brother, strong and wilful who defied his gods for the love of his sister, and the girl too na?ve to heed his advice. I saw the woman whose life was stolen because she’d attracted the love of a god and she was forced to name all those who could one day take her place. I saw the faces of the resistance fighters who had procured the codes to thousands of collars, who had agreed to let me return with a god until the day came when a prince would come, but instead of saving me, he would gift me the means to save myself.

I saw the faces of all those who have loved me, called me sister and friend. And I saw those who had left me. Some who I chose to leave and others who were taken from me. Like the grey wolf.

And the baby with the golden eyes.

And the girl who became a wolf.

I saw the girl who used love as a tool to survive and who survived because love found her. In an inn, on a train. In a cave and on a windy night in a castle on a hill. In the arms of a man with eyes as blue as the northern skies, who swore he would cease to exist were it not for her.

I know who I am now.

I am Rieka Nicora.

And I am magnificent.