Election
Let’s not pretend that Tempest is altruistic in its decisions and nature. It runs like any other society—fit with corruption and greed.
Over the last few weeks, it’s become increasingly obvious why Bloody Mary instills such fear and reverence.
The moment we’d left her quarters; Cass transformed back into the woman that I’d come to regret ever knowing. Though, this time, it felt more like being in on an inside joke.
We’d decided to keep what we were doing a secret—for now. Though what exactly we were was somewhat nebulous. Neither of us labeled it besides my quip about dating a goddess. Cass being nearly seven hundred years old also made this feel somewhat surreal.
And her being a legendary boogeyman was also adding to the strangeness of it all. Especially since I’d all but got into it with her on Marla’s front porch.
Whatever we are, I still feel a bit uneasy at having accepted her apologies and reasoning. The idea that her cold treatment had all been a ruse seems too good to be true.
Though, as I follow her back to the Cradle, I desperately hope this isn’t another game.
“Where are the other two?” Morgana’s voice carries in the semi-filled Cradle. More and more archons continue to fill the standing area around me.
“I do not know,” Bast answers before glancing at Cass.
If the God Queen hears them, she doesn’t let it show.
Her dark hair hangs down her body, blanketing her neck and half of her face. Her orange irises dance with a dark fire.
I look over to where Azazel sits and startle at finding their mask leveled at me. They tilt their head in that “you owe me an explanation” look they’d give me when I fucked something up in training.
I give them a thin smile before returning my eyes to the front. It’s easier to not look up at Cass because rather than seeing God Queen Bloody fucking Mary, I see the lips I’d just made out with. The hair I want to run my hands through. The body I want to explore.
Talk about being spellbound.
This is how I keep getting my heart broken.
Slow and steady. She needs to explain herself first. Fully.
“Archons and Councilors,” Cass’ voice tears me from conflicting thoughts.
It’s a lot easier right now to wonder more about the woman herself. About the centuries of life she’s lived. About whatever it is that makes her tick.
“You may notice that two of our own are absent,” she continues, gesturing somewhat grandly to the two empty seats. “That is because they let their egos guide them.”
My mind flashes to the night of Revenant’s death. To the comment of “sins” and I wonder if that was a show put on by Cass or something more visceral to her.
Light flashes behind the archons and we turn to face the screen.
The scene is familiar and I let out a slow, hesitant breath.
Chunks of what had been Beowulf take up one half of the screen. The other displays Loki’s body with a dagger-sized hole in his chest.
“Fuck,” I hear someone curse out beside me.
There’s a murmur of similar sentiments as people take in what I only vaguely remember doing. The heat of the battle had taken over my senses and either because of Azazel’s great tutelage or my general abilities, I had ended the fight quickly.
“What do we see?” Cass asks, her tone belying nothing.
There’s a flush of whispers before someone clears their throat somewhere behind me.
“Yes?” Cass asks, eyes narrowing on whoever had made the noise.
I turn and find a somewhat attractive man who appears to be younger than me. His sandy blond hair flops over one eye as he gives Cass a sideways grin.
“I assume those piles of bloody goop were Beowulf and Loki.” He grins as though flirting with Cass.
With my Cassandra.
Well. Hopefully my Cassandra.
“Very astute,” Cass says, not exactly shutting down the weird interaction. “And what do we think killed them?”
Eyes return to the screen before the same man pipes up.
“Considering how powerful Beowulf was and Loki’s mimic magic, I assume multiple attackers. Was this the Guild?”
A chorus of agreements ripple through the crowd and Cass grins.
“Another astute observation, Gareth,” she says, nodding to him. Her orange eyes don’t leave the young man as she continues. “Except only one being killed the trickster and his wolf. And only one being killed twenty-four others in the process.”
Despite the fact that he was flirting with the God Queen herself, Gareth does actually look unsteady as he turns to the images again.
The screen flicks to another slide with just as much gore as the previous ones. This time it’s the others who either met my bladed shadows or the spirits. Each sequential image has a lot more blood than I remember seeing.
Though at the end, I only saw her.
“Do not commit the sin of ego,” Cass continues, tone increasing in severity as the slides click across the screen.
I don’t even feel all that badly. Maybe I should, but Loki and Beowulf had wanted me dead from the beginning. Their followers just chose the wrong leaders to bet on.
The slides end and the screen goes dark. A visceral silence takes over as everyone returns their attention to Cass.
“It is indeed a blessing that the individual who was capable of such violence fights for our side. In the end, we owe them great thanks for culling the weak.”
Her words ring loudly across the Cradle.
“It falls upon you all, now, to choose two new council members from within the archon ranks. The other council members and I will allow you a few minutes to decide on your nominations.”
With that, she, Azazel, Morgana, and Bast vacate their chairs and disappear behind the council door behind Cass’ chair.
Voices break out around me, but my eyes don’t leave the spot that Cass had just been in. She’d not said a single word about internal elections. This alone already elevates the risk of someone just as malicious as the other two getting a position of power they don’t deserve.
And I don’t really want to have to make another example of men who think too highly of themselves. I owe it to Marla, Trish, and everyone else like them to ensure proper leadership this time.
It’s one thing to want change. It’s an entirely other thing to accomplish it without brute force. But maybe it’s time for that.
“Figured you’d be tailing Azazel, not down here with us,” a masculine voice stirs me from my thoughts, and I turn to see Gareth giving me a wide grin.
“I go where I’m told,” I say, shrugging.
Gareth, now closer, is a few inches shorter than me. Though if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care.
“You didn’t the other day,” he says, grin definitely getting wider. It shoots an uncomfortable pang into my gut. One that feels like a warning. “I like a woman who knows her worth.”
I paint on a sickly-sweet smile and take a step closer to him. Either this man is suicidal or dumber than a box of rocks because he doesn’t seem to grasp the malice flitting through my mind.
“I must admit I didn’t know the etiquette in dealing with the God Queen. Since then I have been properly educated.”
Soft lips and warm breath almost occlude my mind before I force my attention back on the idiot.
“That’s a shame,” he says, smile not dimming, “I thought maybe we’d found an ally. Though you did seem broken up about those dead humans.”
Not just an idiot, then. Definitely suicidal.
“Gareth,” someone calls from another pocket of archons who look like deliberating their nominations is a less-than-easy task. “Are you ready?”
“Of course,” he says, giving me another simpering smile. “Do try and decide what’s more important—the humans who subjugate us or those of us with the power to stop them.”
With that, he floats away to the group that had called him over.
A traitor. Another like the loyalists. Like the ones Cass had removed when she’d taken over. Like the ones she seems to know exist in this group, but have yet to be eradicated.
Marla and Trish flash through my mind. As do Rey and Ty and all the other people down here. The ones who these archons don’t even seem to consider in their decisions. Gareth speaks of subjugation and domination, but not of survival or peace.
He doesn’t want peace. He wants power.
No one else approaches me as I watch as the archons who, overwhelmingly, look to be male, decide on two nominees.
One is Gareth. The other is another man who looks like he’s most definitely a supernatural being of some kind.
He’s lanky and thin, and his face looks like a mask, rather than something human.
Neither of which at all representative of their people.
After another few minutes, the rear door swings open again and the remaining four rejoin the group. Cass finds my eyes for a brief moment before returning her gaze to the archons as a whole.
“Present your nominations,” she says, sounding almost bored.
The two men step forward, and Cass examines them both for a moment before letting out the softest of groans.
“Gareth von Kemp, you may take your spot. Varun, you may as well.”
Gareth and Varun quickly take the steps to the empty chairs and sit as the archons clap politely.
Cass finds my eyes again, and I see the faintest hint of annoyance. Not at me, but clearly at the choices.
I try to give her a slight grin, but I can’t tell if it actually helps.
“Remember well the lesson learned tonight. The one that walks amongst us does not suffer fools. Nor do they tolerate intolerance.”
With that, she waves a hand and the archons begin to disperse.
I give her a raised eyebrow before turning and following the other men and women.
“Hiraeth,” Bast calls as I pass her, and I turn to face the woman.
“Yes?” I say, trying my best to not look like I’m glowering.
“Were you hurt?” she asks, and I get the sense that, of the council people, Bast is the one that I should probably ensure is never an enemy.
“A little,” I say, giving her a reassuring smile. “I heal fast, but twenty-six is a new record.”
She nods, but I obviously can’t tell if she liked that answer or not. The feline mask does seem to almost change with her expressional voice and body language, though.
“The new council members,” she says, not looking in the men’s direction, “do you trust them?”
I turn to face Gareth, who meets my grin with a vapid one of his own. Varun looks as if there is nothing going on upstairs.
“Not in the slightest,” I say, turning back to Bast. “I fear there are many foxes in the henhouse that we have yet to eliminate.”
Bast considers my words for a moment before she nods.
“See that you protect yourself, Hiraeth. Keep your friends close.”
She sits back, refocusing her attention on the God Queen who doesn’t say anything as I glance over my shoulder at her.
I make my way back up the dark flight of stairs and into the cavernous air of the Citadel.