41. Kiera
Chapter 41
Kiera
K alix and Theos flank me as we enter the assembly hall. The sounds of our boots on the stone floor are drowned out by the noise of conversation as we draw nearer to the others dwelling within Ortus Academy. It appears that everyone has been gathered, and whether they realize it or not, for the end of the Gods’ reign.
They took from me and I have no intention of letting them keep it. Keep him.
Nothing in me questions the need for violence that resides within our mutual souls at the loss of one of our own. We had ascended the staircase leading out of the claustrophobic pressure of the underground prison minutes earlier and Caedmon and Ariadne are gone now. They had turned away from the sound of people and as they promised to return had disappeared.
“It will be okay.” Theos steps up along my left side and slides his hand down my arm until our fingers intertwine.
Unable to stop myself, I allow my own hand to turn over and take his offer of comfort. There has been so little of it at this point that every crumb of affection from the Darkhavens has become like a drug to an addict. I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose.
Instead of responding, I simply march forward into the fray. The three of us merge with a stream of students making their way into the massive hall that the Gods have used to announce their expectations and ceremonial rites for the last two weeks. It feels as if a lifetime has been lived since we came here and yet at the same time, it’s a blink in their eyes. A mere second in the centuries that they live.
Kalix comes up along my opposite side and leans down. “Ruen is here,” he murmurs.
I jerk, my whole body rising onto tiptoe as I scan the room, searching for the lost member of our family—because that’s what we are. A broken, damaged, cobbled-together family that no one else wanted.
“Where?” I pant the word as my heart bleeds, leaking all over the inside of my chest. “I don’t see him.”
“I can smell him,” Kalix replies. His words are only marginally easing. The fact that I cannot set my eyes upon Ruen’s form, damaged or whole, remains.
The fingers of my right hand inch down to his and to my surprise, Kalix allows me to take hold of his hand and grip it tightly. My heart thuds a rapid pace as my eyes cast above the room, roving over the tops of the heads in the nearby vicinity and then further.
Azai and Gygaea stand upon the dais at the head of the room, but both Makeda and Danai are absent. The lack of their presence makes everything inside me clench. My hands tighten against Theos’ and Kalix’s.
They hover close, their bodies spreading heat into my own. It’s not enough to defrost the ice that’s formed inside me. Their cautious anger is barely restrained. I’m not quite sure if it’s their hands on mine or mine on theirs that’s keeping the lot of us from unleashing the storm that is building within all of us.
Swaying on my feet, I consider the words that Caedmon had whispered to me before we’d parted ways.
Whatever Ariadne has promised you, he’d said, know one thing—the reason I didn’t go to her was because she cannot be the one to succeed, Kiera. You are the only one who can stop Tryphone.
Why? I’d wanted to scream at him. Why does it have to be me? What do I have that others don’t?
And, as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking as I’d stared back into the pitch black of his gaze, he’d lifted a hand to my cheek and touched me lightly. Just the barest touch of a fingertip. That was all he’d needed and visions had cascaded through my head.
Old worlds. New. Mountains and oceans that rose and fell. Cities burning. Rumble and ruins and then … at the end of it all, rebirth.
“It’s you, Kiera,” Caedmon had repeated. “It’s always been you.”
I close my eyes as I sway on my feet. In my mind, the present and past and future collide. The truth that Caedmon shared swelling within me. After meeting her—Ariadne, my mother—I assumed that the bulk of my abilities came from her. I look like her after all.
But as much as I am half of her, I am also half of him—my father.
In my mind’s eye, I redraw my father’s facial structure. Thick lips. Strong, square-cut jaw. Eyes slightly slanted. A burnished darkness in his skin that was never like my own ivory flesh. When I was a child, I’d wanted so badly to look like him. Wanted to be just like the man I admired and loved. Then he’d looked at me with eyes of soft brown and he’d stroked my hair and called me his ‘little one’ and I didn’t care anymore what I looked like so long as he never stopped.
Now, I realize he was looking at her—at my mother—and he loved her still through me.
My eyes reopen as the air in the room shifts. I release Kalix and Theos' hands as a figure appears at the center of the stage, dragged forward by two large bulky dead-faced Terra. Their features are waxen and even, not a hint of emotion revealed as they work to cart the man between them—bloodied and beaten until his damaged form is dropped in the center and a collective hush falls over the crowd.
Ruen.
His face is marred by new cuts and bruises. He’ll have fresh scars. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they be healing? My eyes lift to Azai, who stands to the side of Gygaea, his face a twisted mask of smugness. Even if he’d felt or shown a hint of remorse, I know one thing about the God of Strength—he will die by my hand and soon.
“Fuck.” Theos’ quiet curse is loud to my ears, but it must not be enough to catch the attention of those around us because everyone is now focused on the stage as Tryphone appears, clad in an open-front black robe. It descends his long-tapered waist and further, splitting open even more as he walks to reveal the matching trousers.
“Welcome to the final rite, ladies and gentlemen,” Tryphone announces as he scans the gathering. He stops when his eyes land on me and I know, without ever having really considered the possibility, that there is no appealing to the monster that is my grandfather by blood. His lips form a slow curl until he wears the same expression as Azai. Gygaea is the only one to appear unmoved by the scene.
One brave soul closer to the stage raises a wary hand. Tryphone’s eyes shoot to the boy—one of those I recognize as having followed Maral during the Hunt. He’s a slender Mortal God with mussed hair like he just rolled out of bed and dressed in a hurry to get here.
“I thought the final rite was to be the Feast?” he asks warily as Tryphone stares at him expectantly. His hand slowly lowers.
Tryphone nods. “That’s correct,” the God King says. “The Feast will begin tonight. Right now, I have gathered you all here to acknowledge that a few of your kin have betrayed your Gods.”
My hands clench into fists, my nails digging into my flesh and threatening to split the skin. We betrayed them?
A darkness rises inside me. An ages-old anger. I take a step forward, shoving between two Mortal Gods only to be drawn up short as an invisible barrier slams into me. My mind cracks wide open and my lips part on a silent scream.
Hands grasp at me, drawing me back towards warm male chests. Kalix. Theos. I try to speak, but can’t. All of my energy is spent trying not to collapse into a heap on the ground. Pain lances through the back of my head and it takes considerable effort for me to lift it to meet the piercing eyes of Tryphone, the God King.
It’s the arena all over again. He’s breaking through my defenses and slamming his way into my head even as he speaks calmly to the crowd gathered at his feet. Sweat collects against my brow and slides down the side of my face. I feel cold and hot all at the same time, my body trembling at the conflicting temperatures.
“Kiera?” Theos’ worried voice penetrates my pain and I wince at the added agony the sound creates, shying away from it on instinct.
Tryphone’s smile widens as if he knows he has me in his grasp and there’s no escape. My eyes fall to the man in the center of the stage. Ruen is on his knees now, head still bent as he drags in lungfuls of air. I can practically feel his pain as my own when I focus on him.
Long lines have turned the skin of his bare back to ribbons. Shreds of flesh hang along either side of the whip marks. Fresh blood wells up, sliding over his spine and down to the waistband of his trousers.
I bite down, tasting rust and pain on my tongue.
Reaching into the core of my being, I grasp at the emotions that have always been with me. The buildup of resentment, of pain, of anger, of desire and I rip them free, letting them flow over my body and limbs. Straightening, I lift my gaze from Ruen’s prostrated form and stare into the eyes of the God King.
His widen as if he’s surprised by my daring—or perhaps, he’s surprised that I’m not on the ground, writhing in agony. Truth be told, I would be were it not for the way I’ve locked my limbs against Kalix and Theos—ignoring the distant acknowledgment that they’re trying to talk to me, asking me questions that I cannot answer. For if I open my mouth, I will scream. I will bring the mountain of brimstone that surrounds us down upon all our heads.
The pain is that great as it tears through me.
A glimmer of what might be respect enters Tryphone’s gaze and one brow arches over his square cut features. He gestures to one of the other Gods and finishes whatever he’d been saying. Azai steps forward, but his words, too, are lost on me. I hear nothing but the rush of blood in my head. I feel nothing but the tingle of awareness and the scrape of brimstone blades removing my skin from my bones.
It’s not real. None of it is.
But there is one thing I do know.
Fixing the God King with my gaze, I bare my teeth and slip the single most truthful statement I’ve ever made into my mind —letting him see it. Letting him read the honest rage in my soul. This is his last warning from me, and it is also my oath.
I’m going to tear out your fucking heart and feed it to you.
I swear it on my soul and on the hearts of the men that have become mine.
I will kill the God King. There is no mercy left in me for false Gods.