21. Ruen
Chapter 21
Ruen
I stare at the woman seated across from me at the breakfast table. She refuses to meet my gaze and that only serves to make me more suspicious. Terra surround us, laying silver-topped trays down in front of us, and quickly pull away the covers, leaving a feast of meats, breads, and cheeses. They gather the tops and leave, hurrying away as more Mortal Gods enter the dining hall. Kiera immediately sets to work filling her plate and diving in to eat. I continue to watch her with caution and interest even as Theos nudges me to begin eating.
Once again, when we woke this morning, Kalix was gone. The difference today is that Kiera was as well. Though Theos hadn’t bothered to go searching for Kalix, I had, and his room had smelled of blood and sex. Knowing how obsessive Kalix has become with the girl—with Kiera—in the last few months, I’m sure it was she he spent the night with. I’m curious to know why the ripe, raw scent of blood had filled his chambers though.
My eyes scan her throat and collarbone revealed at the parting of her tunic. Of course, there’s nothing to be seen though. She’s a Mortal God and therefore has extraordinary healing ability. Her brimstone shackle is gone now as well, which only means she heals even faster.
Kalix’s disappearance is still a conundrum though. Her blood hadn’t been the only one spilled in his room. The sharp, acrid scent of his had also permeated the space. The lack of broken furniture, though, speaks of consent. Even before her secrets had been revealed, Kiera Nezerac was not one to sit back and allow herself to be used and harmed against her will.
That knowledge is what finally allows me to direct my focus on the food in front of me. I select a few choice cuts of meat and cheeses and eat methodically as the morning wanes. By the time I finish my meal, the first warning bell of the day chimes across the Academy, ringing into the dining hall and hurrying along students who fear tardiness.
Together, the three of us—Theos, Kiera, and I—push our seats back and start to make our way towards the exit. As we leave the dining hall behind, though, a rather harried looking Terra male stumbles right into our path. His brown eyes are blown wide, the pupils dilated as the scent of terror wafts off him. Kiera frowns as he comes to a bumbling halt before us, but Theos goes rigid as if he recognizes the scent underlying the fear.
“M-Master Ruen,” the Terra bows deep. “Y-your presence has been requested by?—”
“I know who sent you,” I snap, cutting him off. I don’t want to hear my father’s name.
Kiera glances at me, finally looking at me for the first time since we left the North Tower.
The Terra peeks up through his shaggy hair. “H-he’s requested y-you, sir.”
I wave him off. “Fine.” Ice fills my veins, fueled by my rage. The arrogance of Azai to call me out. I knew he would do this—which is why I’d gone to Caedmon all those months ago to demand to know if the God Council would be called here.
That bastard can never resist calling his most hated son before him. My whole face tenses and the skin around my scar pulls tight. I close my eyes and try to ease the tightness in my chest by sheer force of will as I sense Theos move closer.
“I can go in your place.”
My eyes shoot open at that offer. “ No. ” The word is a brand against the inside of my throat. I would rather relive Kiera’s whipping in real time, every inch of my flesh shredding from my own back, than allow my brothers to stand before the monster that sired us.
I jerk my chin to the girl. “Take her to class, and if you find Kalix, keep him close. Let him know where I’ve gone. I will return.”
Theos’ mouth firms and his expression hardens, but I’m already striding away before he can argue. The sound of the Terra scrambling after me, his footsteps uneven but agile despite his obvious ungainliness catching up within seconds as he takes the lead, a necessary allowance since I don’t know where Azai resides within the Academy … or what he plans for me.
The Terra leads me away from the classroom buildings of the Academy and closer to the section reserved only for the Gods. Each step closer to my tormentor brings back old memories. Every little scar that lines my arms and on my back tightens and tenses as my muscles jump beneath my flesh.
It’s been so long. Too long, some might say. I’ve almost forgotten what punishment feels like. Air saws in and out of my chest as the Terra leads me up a familiar set of stairs, but instead of stopping before the room where Kiera met the God Council, the Terra leads me right past the double ornate doors. Sweat beads on the back of my neck and slides down over the ridges of my spine beneath my tunic.
The human’s steps finally slow as we near the end of the final corridor. A much smaller set of double doors awaits with a similarly ornate style. A knocker shaped like that of a monster of old—spikes along the side of its head and within its mouth a circular ring of metal that the Terra takes and uses to rap upon the wood once, twice, three times. Each sound drives my mind further and further back as a familiar numbness descends.
The door creaks open and, trembling, the Terra steps out of the way. I don’t bother to wait to be allowed entrance via a sound, but instead stride into the room, letting the heavy door close behind me, sealing me inside.
My eyes remain on the floor—a cool black marble with trails of gold and white moving through the glimmering mirror-like surface—for several moments. Then, slowly, I lift my head in incremental movements until I’m standing straight and staring across the vast space of what looks like a bedroom fit for a King of old.
My expression remains blank, devoid of any emotions as Azai ignores me and continues to sit with his back to me in a high-backed winged armchair. The top of his head is visible over the top of the chair; with his height that’s not surprising.
His bulky frame is an outline facing the window and it takes several moments for me to realize the noises coming from him. No, not from him … my upper lip curls back in disgust and as if I need to prove it to myself, I take several steps forward and around to the side.
I stop at the sight of the woman on her knees, the neckline of her gown open and pulled down beneath her bared breasts. Her mouth is locked around Azai’s cock and she chokes and gags as the man she’s currently sucking off, keeps hold of her head with a palm nearly double the size of her skull. A rumble of a groan unleashes from him as he forces her head down and holds her.
My hands tighten into fists as her eyes widen and then dart to me. Humiliation turns her face bright red as Azai unleashes his seed into her mouth and throat. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes and drip down her face. Once Azai’s done, though, that’s it. He releases the woman and flicks his hand at her as if dismissing an animal. Quickly gathering herself, the woman yanks her neckline up over her breasts and covers her mouth with the back of her hand as she stands on shaky legs and hurries past me. Her footsteps are the only sound in the room until the click of the door shutting leaves the space in silence.
I close my eyes, trying to rid myself of the scene I just witnessed. I shouldn’t be surprised, and I’m not. What I am is sickened and weary.
The creak of the chair as my father shifts and stands has my eyes shooting open. I keep my eyes fixed on his face, but in my periphery, I know he’s tucking his saliva covered cock back into his trousers and lacing them shut.
“You’re here,” he states with a nod. “Good. We have much to discuss.”
I don’t speak. I simply wait and turn, watching him as he passes around the chair and moves toward the wet bar on the other side of the room. He pulls a glass down from a shelf of them, uncaps a decanter, and pours himself a hefty amount. Azai looks down at the glass and then pulls down a second, filling that as well.
It’s barely late morning and yet, already he’s drinking. I narrow my attention on his face, noting the fresh lines bracketing his eyes and lips. He looks older since I last saw him. That’s odd. He’s never seemed anything but young. Now, though, he looks old enough to actually have fathered children of my age. I take note and secret the information away in the back of my mind—it’s surely something I’ll have to ask Caedmon about. He said that the Gods aged, but it seems odd that it would happen in the span of a few years when they live centuries.
“Come.” Azai flicks his fingers at me. “Drink with me, Son.”
With gritted teeth, I take slow measured steps towards him. When he hands me the second glass full of amber liquid, I don’t wait for him to taste it first. I put it to my lips and down it all in one gulp.
Azai pauses, his own glass halfway to his lips.
I slam the glass down. “Thank you,” I bite out the words. “It was most pleasing.”
A smirk passes his lips and he snorts as he takes a sip from his glass. “I doubt you’d know,” he comments. “You drank it so fast, I doubt the rum even touched your tongue.”
He would be correct. I’d assumed the alcohol was brandy, not rum. I hadn’t even tasted the stuff, but I would have known that if I had. I offer him a smile full of teeth, wishing that I had Kalix’s ability to produce fangs.
“It’s not the type that gives the liquor good taste,” I say, “but the company we keep.” And no matter if it were a vintage or not, I’d say that whatever this man gives me will end up as little more than shit on my tongue.
“I see you’ve learned to hold your tongue appropriately,” Azai says, his words half amused and sardonic as he sips lightly at his glass. “But I didn’t bring you here to discuss liquor. Tell me, I hear that your Terra was found to be a Mortal God. What do you know of her?”
A dangerous emotion blooms inside of my chest, spreading a darkness I didn’t even know I possessed outward until it creeps through each of my limbs. My body reacts as though it’s been atrophied. This meeting is about Kiera?
Now, I really wish I still held my glass in my hand. It would at least give me something else to focus on instead of the awareness of how close Azai is to me and how easy it would be to plant my fist in his face.
Do not let your anger control you, my son, for anger will make you weak to poor choices.
I close my eyes as the soft, almost lyrical sound of a memory penetrates the rage pouring through me. The voice is tired, but loving. Feminine.
Your anger changes no one but yourself. You may use it as fuel, but do not let it consume you or you will cease to be everything that you are—the child of my heart.
My skin becomes impossibly tight, stretched over muscle and bone that wishes nothing more than to shatter into a million pieces. When I reopen my eyes, I feel as if years have passed. My whole body is sore with the effort it took to hold myself back and it has aged me—inside, if not externally.
“You wish to know more about the new Mortal God?” I say, lifting my tone at the end to form the question. “Why?”
Azai continues to sip at his drink. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s able to see into my head and know just how many times I have held myself back from attacking him. The last time I’d been a mere child of ten. It was inevitable that I would lose and pay a price for insulting a God, no matter that he was my sire. Things have changed since then. I am older now, wiser.
My anger has not abated though. No, it has festered and grown in the years since he killed my mother and gave me the scar over my eye. As my mother always warned me not to use my anger too quickly, I’ve taken her lessons to heart. She might have meant for me to let it go entirely, but that’s not who I am.
I am a man who feeds on his anger like a dying wolf. I am a man who will show this one—this God—that he made a mistake in letting me live all those years ago. Perhaps not today, and not even tomorrow, but somehow, someway, I will be his death and I will relish in it.
“The girl is staying in the North Tower, is she not?” Azai replies, arching a brow. “Surely you see her around. She was your Terra. What was she like then?”
See her around? I almost want to laugh. Of course Azai wouldn’t even know the details of his sons’ lives. He doesn’t even know that we’re the only First Tiers to inhabit the North Tower—other than Kiera now. He must think she stays within the Tower in different quarters. I have no interest in changing his thinking. The less he knows of us the better—even if this information is something he could easily find out for himself considering how many Terra and other Mortal Gods are aware of our living situation. It says more about him than it does me that he still is blind to the facts.
Pathetic .
He might be the God of Strength, but intelligence will always conquer pure brawn. I’m thankful to my mother for giving me that much even if this bastard’s genetics have given me more of my features.
I choose my words carefully as I reply. “She does live in the North Tower,” I tell him, “and yes, she was our Terra.”
Azai nods. “And?” He gestures for me to continue. “What else?”
I tilt my head to the side and eye him warily. “What else do you wish to know?”
He scowls. His golden eyes—eyes nearly the same shade as Theos’—flash with irritation. He slams his glass down on the wet bar and the delicate material shatters upon impact. I don’t even flinch as the glass fragments ricochet in several different directions—the wood beneath where Azai had landed splintering with a loud crack!
This right here is why my mother warned me against using my anger without thought.
I meet my father’s gaze with barely a glance at the now broken bar and the glass that litters the floor at our feet.
“Do not toy with me, boy.” His voice deepens with a low, thunderous rumble. “I want information on this new addition. What of her powers? Have they materialized yet?”
In this, I must be cautious. What I know of Kiera’s abilities are small, but I don’t yet know what information he's already been given—or if there is any.
“Caedmon discovered her heritage,” I say slowly. “Has he not given you any information regarding the girl?” I refuse to say her name before a piece of trash like him.
Azai is a tall God, towering over most others with a bulky frame that seems traditional for the God of Strength. When he turns from me and stomps away, the room appears to tremble at his harsh footsteps. The floor wavers and dust that once clung to the open beams above rains over my face. Azai stalks across the room and in yet another fit of anger, he grips the chair he’d been previously sitting in and hurls it into the wall. Upon impact, the chair breaks. Another loud crack rebounds through the room, echoing into the arched ceiling as wood splits through the otherwise pristine fabric, shredding through in sharp broken pieces. Little bits of stuffing fall to the floor as the chair collapses.
Chest heaving, he breathes harshly and stares at the mess he’s made before he scrubs a hand over the top of his dirty blond hair, most of which is separated into long braids with various trinkets attached. The baubles woven into his hair glimmer with the movement.
“As my son,” he starts, “it should be your honor to answer my summons and to give me the information I demand.”
Honor? How laughable. There is nothing honorable about being his son.
“Caedmon is hiding something.” His hand moves to the equally long beard at his chin, stroking through the glittering trinkets there as well. My eyes flash to him and narrow at his words, but he isn’t looking at me. Instead, he’s looking to the window.
“There are things you do not know, boy .” I narrow my eyes on the man standing in the remains of his anger as he moves closer to the window to gaze at the cliffside and ocean beyond.
Gods may be hard to kill, but they are not hard to hurt. Brimstone makes them vulnerable, and as I stare at the back of Azai’s head, braided in a plethora of valuables, I imagine myself smashing his face through the glass and throwing him to the jagged rocks below. If those rocks were brimstone, all the better.
“She has abilities like the rest of us,” I say instead of making that dream come true. Now is not the time, but the future is still unknown. I may get my opportunity if I play my cards right. “Coercion. Added healing and strength.”
Azai looks over his shoulder at me. “Nothing else? No hint as to who her God parent could be?” he demands.
I shake my head, a silent lie. To my knowledge, he doesn’t yet know of her familiars and control over shadows and spiders. That, more than anything, tells me that when Kiera does come into her true powers, it will be a magnificent sight to behold. She might even be more powerful than my brothers or me.
“Even if her powers were revealed that doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll reflect who her God parent is,” I remind Azai. “Some powers are more reflective of a Mortal God’s personality than their lineage.”
Azai frowns at my words but he bobs his head up and down in an almost absent movement. “Yes, yes of course.” He turns back to the window.
“Is there anything else?” I ask, hoping against hope that he’ll release me from the confines of this room and his presence.
Silence greets my question. Azai continues to stare through the glass, fixated on something in the distance. I wait, trepidation swirling within me. The anger and outbursts from him are normal. They are expected. This silence … is not.
Several more minutes pass and I remain where I am. I know better than to try and leave without permission. Each tick of the clock on the mantel above his hearth, however, stretches my flesh further, tightening everything within me. When he finally does speak, I fear my skin will shred itself with the relief.
“I know you do not understand the choices I have made, Ruen,” Azai speaks, his voice that continuous low rumble. He doesn’t turn to look back at me. “None of your brothers do, but what I decide must be done for the survival of God kind, and as my sons, you are part of that. Whatever happens, that is most important.”
God kind? I have to force my face to remain calm and expressionless when the muscles in my jaw begin to throb and my upper lip tries to curl back. I don’t speak. I hardly even breathe, locking the air inside of my chest as if doing so will save me from having to inhale anything this man exhales.
Azai is quiet again for a long moment and I have the strangest thought that there is more he wants to say. Instead, though, he merely shakes his head and flicks out a hand, dismissing me with the gesture.
I don’t wait to clarify. I’m out of his door and stalking down the corridor of the Gods Council’s quarters before he ever turns around. I head directly for the classrooms, peering at the sky as I exit the building and trying to ascertain the time of day with where the others will be.
If Azai wants information on Kiera, then I need to talk to the others. They need to know and we need to close ranks. Whatever he wants it for, I can only be sure it’s nothing good.