Chapter 5
SELENE
Every corner of Nobus’ palace is decorated for the event.
From the foyer of the grand entrance to the golden throne room, every surface drips with opulence.
Gods from across the pantheon were ordered to the palace days ago to begin the preparations, offering their gifts to ensure a celebration fit for a king.
But only time will tell which king we celebrate. Will it be the vengeful one that sits the throne now, the babe in line to take his place, or the wolf plotting rebellion?
All eyes are on the dais as the royal family makes their way from behind the curtain that conceals the entrance to their chambers.
From his towering height to his broad build, Nobus’ presence commands attention—so much so that it would be easy not to notice the dark-haired goddess who sulks in his shadow.
Downtrodden, there is no spark in Arcasia’s gray eyes, only the blank expression of someone who would rather be anywhere else than here.
Unlike her husband, the goddess’ presence has waned during her seclusion.
Whispers flit between the gods as we catch our first glimpse of the goddess in two years.
The orchestra’s song reaches a crescendo as Nobus jerks the swaddled babe from the Goddess of Protection’s arms and raises him over his head. All heads bow and knees bend in the presence of the young prince.
Peering up from under my lashes, I sneak a glimpse at the child and instantly understand why the king has kept him hidden for the first year of his life.
The child held aloft in front of kneeling gods has hair as dark as night and glimmering gray eyes—traits entirely from his mother and not from the supposedly all-powerful deity who sired him.
It is a rare trait for a god’s eyes to not be the signature golden hue of our pantheon’s namesake, and those gods are always fated for something tremendous.
It’s widely believed that Arcasia’s eyes destined her to be our queen, much in the same way Drayven’s determined his right to rule the Under Realm over his twin sister, Drayca.
If the son of Nobus does not have his father’s eyes, then the target on his back is even greater than we realized.
“Arise and offer your powers to Calaedon, Prince of the Gods.”
“Lyra.” I turn to my sister, grabbing her arm as she moves to enter the queue of deities that line up to grant seeds of their magic to the child. “He’s going to absorb—”
“Shhh!” My sister places her palm over my mouth and pulls me towards her. “Don’t you think we know that?” she hisses in my ear. “Why do you think I finally gave into Nina’s pleas and joined her?”
Lyra swipes my pink lipstick off her hand as she joins the other gods. The few I know to be rebellion members are spaced purposefully throughout the line, no two back-to-back to ensure Nobus doesn’t recognize the pattern hidden in the blessings.
The Wolf God approaches the dais first. “To my nephew, I gift the mouth of the wolf. May your words always be commands, may your teeth always be sharp, and may your bite always crush your foes.”
Nobus beams with pride, nodding in appreciation at the blessing he thinks is complete.
“And I also gift the eyes of the lamb. May your eyes always reflect the content of your heart and may they always see the true intentions of those you look upon.”
The God King tenses as Mikais finishes. The young prince absorbs the golden embers of power given freely to him, the cradle he rests in glowing momentarily as the magic settles.
The duality of the offering—all at once something Nobus both wants and rejects—sets the tone for what’s expected of the rest of the rebels.
One by one, the powerful kneel in front of the royal family. From bended knee, they each bestow a single present meant to aid the prince in his life and hinder the king if he takes it by force.
Nobus’ golden eyes shine with envy at the offerings, already counting the ways his power will increase once he slaughters his own son.
Lyra steps to the dais next, the sapphire taffeta of her gown rippling like waves down the steps as she kneels. “To the prince, I gift the song of destiny. May fate know him by the sound of his name.”
Nobus doesn’t hide his scoff. On the surface, it’s a sweet gift—one that a child soon to die has no need of. But my sister is smarter than that. Her blessing ensures that fate, and whatever it might have in store for him, can find the prince no matter which realm he’s in.
With each gift, the child glows more intensely until he outshines the suns themselves. The perfect timing for my own gift.
Like my sister, I do not prepare him to die, but instead amplify her blessing even more. No matter what happens, the gods will always be able to find him.
“To the prince,” I start, my heart hammering in my chest as I try to steady my breathing. “May the light surround you so that you will always be recognized by your kind.”
Like a beacon in the night, a lighthouse on the coast, or an angel in the darkness, no matter where this war leads, no matter where this child ends up, those with magic in their blood will always know him by his halo of light.
My hands tremble as I descend and meld into the crowd again.
Drayca ascends next, bestowing a gift that causes Nobus to swell with pride at the most envious blessing yet—the gift of strategy. “May he always know the path to victory.”
Nina bestows the gift of the flame, placing the fire of passion in his blood.
Bastin grants the ability to satisfy every lover, a gift that earns him a glare from both monarchs.
The God of Revelry, who has chosen to side with Nobus, is either oblivious to the God King’s plan or is publicly insulting his abilities in the bedroom.
Either way, it makes for great entertainment—which is one of his specialties.
The Goddess of the Harvest grants the gift of a bountiful table, a gift the king cannot fathom the necessity of. But Seblee isn’t a fool. Abundance reigns in this realm, but many of the others are deficient. The ability to never be without is a true gift.
When the last divine blessing has been bestowed upon the child, Nobus signals for Taura to approach. She kneels at the feet of the God King, her violet eyes shifting hues as she takes the prince’s tiny, glowing hand into hers.
The Goddess of Truth is an expert liar. She is skilled at keeping her face neutral, but I know her tells. The way one muscle in her jaw tightens slightly, the way her lashes flutter four times—all signs that the truth she sees isn’t palatable.
“His future is blurry, my King. So much is yet to be determined.”
“Unacceptable,” Nobus roars. “Tell me what you see or you will never see again.” Lightning ripples across his skin as his power rumbles through the palace.
Taura cuts her eyes to me quickly and my heart drops into my stomach.
Whatever she truly sees involves me, and I have no doubt revealing this vision would end us both.
The goddess takes a steadying breath, preparing to only give away the most crucial pieces of information while tucking the details safely away.
“The very sight of him will cause men to cower, Your Majesty. He will be….he will be…”
The lights in the throne room flicker as Taura searches for words that won’t find her exiled. Black smoke fills the space and all attention shifts to the spinning, tornadic shadows that concentrate at the foot of the dais.
His voice booms through the dark before his corporeal form appears. “Quite the gathering you’re hosting, Nobus. I do hope I haven’t missed all the fun.”
The Dark God of Death melds into view, moving towards the baby that glows in the golden cradle.
“You will not touch him,” Arcasia growls, a hint of her fabled beast form coming to the surface.
“Calm down, beast,” Drayven scolds. “I will not touch your child and I will not curse him either. But I will tell you what Truth is too afraid to say.”
Taura stands, backing away from the kings who now stand toe-to-toe, each poised to unleash their deadly wrath at any moment.
“Your son will be forged in battle, molded in blood, and crowned in shadows.”
A gasp ripples through the crowd. Nobus raises a hand to strike but the dark god disappears in a flash of black. Thunder claps and Drayven reappears against the back wall. He lounges with casual ease, swiping something invisible from the shoulder of his black dress suit.
“How dare you threaten your prince!” the God King roars.
“He’s not my prince. It is not a threat; it is the truth. Tell him, Taura.”
All attention turns to the raven-haired goddess who trembles slightly at my side. “It is as he says, my King,” she whispers.
Nobus stiffens, emotions warring in his golden gaze before a wicked smile blooms on his face.
“Well.” He chuckles. “It seems even the Under Realm will bow. A ruler who wears two crowns. What father wouldn’t be proud of that?”
His sinister tone makes the hair stand on my arms. Whatever half-truth Drayven chose to share, he has spared the child for now.
But as Taura has told me many times, fate is not written in stone; it is written in the shifting sands of time.
Nobus will keep the boy alive until he is able to determine how to change the fate proclaimed here today as truth.
He will focus on the dark god and spend his days plotting how to overthrow the king of the Under Realm, biding his time until the little princeling has enough power to take the dark throne.
And if his attention is on Drayven, it won’t be on Mikais.