35. Kiera
Chapter 35
Kiera
D auphine is the one who arrives to take me to see the God Council. Her face is slimmer than I remember seeing it last with dark shadows bruising the skin beneath her eyes. She practically trembles under the dark glare Kalix is leveling her way, but when he moves to follow after us as she asks me to follow her—far more politely than she ever had when I was a Terra—Dauphine stops him.
“I’m sorry,” she says, voice strong despite the fine tremor that makes her fingers shake as she holds up a hand, palm outward. “The Gods have only requested Kiera’s presence. No one else may attend their Council.”
The low snarl that erupts from Kalix is quickly cut off by Ruen as he grips his brother and drags him back into the North Tower quarters. I keep my gaze firmly planted on the two Darkhavens in front of me even as my mind wants me to check to make sure the door to Kalix’s room remains shut, hiding away the fugitive that is Regis.
“It’s fine,” I tell them. “I’ll be okay.” I hope the words aren’t a lie.
Dauphine glances my way, and for the first time, I catch a hint of regret and sympathy in her attention. I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose and mouth. When I reopen my eyes, I fix them on Ruen. If anyone can read the request in my eyes, it’s him. Dark sea storm eyes meet mine and he nods as I step back towards the stairs that will lead me down the tower and outside. No matter what happens, at least, I know that Regis will be safe.
Dauphine wastes no more time, now that someone is holding Kalix back, hurrying me towards the exit. It’s almost as if she hopes the sooner we’re out of sight, the sooner Kalix Darkhaven will forget both of our existences. Though I know there’s no chance of that, I let her believe so and follow her silently and amiably as she leads me out of the North Tower, across various courtyards, and through darkened corridors until we’re back in the same building I’d met the God Council before.
This time, though, she doesn’t take me immediately to the main chambers. I spot the man—the God—waiting at the end of the hall and immediately feel tension spread throughout my shoulders. My heart thuds a rapid beat inside my chest as sweat coats my palms. Anger. Red hot and wicked spears through me. No matter that I shouldn’t care. No matter that the Darkhavens are no more trustworthy now than the Underworld—especially if Regis’ last note is any indication—I still hate the sight of Azai, God of Strength.
Head tilted down, he stares at me with both arms crossed over his massive warrior-like chest. I hate him even more because of the small notes of his features that remind me of his sons. The liquid gold of his eyes makes me think of Theos. The sharp jaw that reminds me of Kalix. The stoic expression that is all Ruen.
I despise them all.
“My Lord.” Dauphine stops before him and bows deep.
Though I know I should probably offer the same respect—as anyone else would—I don’t. I meet Azai’s gaze with a glare and wait for his response. He arches one dark brow but otherwise doesn’t say anything as he turns to the side and gestures for me to enter the smaller door that is far less gilded than their original chambers. The slab of wood is plain and without any ornamentation. For some reason, that makes me dread entering the room beyond all the more.
Pushed along by Azai’s attention on my back, though, I don’t hesitate as I reach out and twist the knob, letting the door swing inward to reveal a smaller but no less opulent room full of familiar bodies. My throat goes dry when I spy Danai and Makeda standing side by side as they had during the mock battles in the arena. Unable to help myself, I reach out for a mind I know almost as well as my own. Ara responds without pause, and sensing my anxiety, floods my head with her own emotions. Though not as complex as mortal or Divine emotions, the sensation of her hope and care eases the strain in my shoulders and mind as I step into the room and approach the Gods.
“Hello, Kiera.”
I dip my head as Caedmon appears around the corner of a large pillar. The room itself, unlike the door leading inside, is a beautifully decorated parlor of sorts. The only thing that makes it unparlor-like is the large open stone chalice that takes up a large portion of the center of the room around which are six pillars.
“Lord Caedmon,” I acknowledge the God of Prophecy with a dry throat and Ara still sending me her emotions to calm my own.
Discreetly, I wipe my palms against my trousers. So fast had Dauphine come—a fact that Kalix had seemed surprised by considering he’d given us a good hour to prepare for her arrival—I hadn’t even gotten the chance to change into a gown or something else that they would have likely preferred or expected. No one says anything, though, about my inappropriate attire as I approach the center of the small room.
“Do you know why you’re here, child?” Danai asks, the first, other than Caedmon, to speak.
Behind me, I sense rather than see Azai enter the room. His presence is an undesired weight on my shoulders, but I ignore it and look to the God Queen as I respond.
“It’s not the Spring Equinox yet, Your Majesty,” I say, dipping my head in deference to her in a way I didn’t for Azai.
The door at my back shuts with a harsh thump and I repress the urge to smile, knowing that respecting one God over another has certainly annoyed him. Good. If I do decide to kill the God King, then I also plan to slaughter Azai along with him. After what he’s done to his sons, to Ruen, he cannot be allowed to live. My hands are stained with the blood of my kills. One more death on my conscience won’t affect my already damned soul.
“You are correct,” Danai says. “However, we have been watching you as of late and have determined that knowing your bloodline sooner is of immediate importance.” Her gaze glints with an emotion I cannot name, but it makes me uneasy.
Despite my dread, I lift my head slightly as Azai moves around and stops just inside my periphery. He—along with the other Gods—takes up against one of the six pillars that circle the room. Overhead, a glass skylight illuminates the room in foggy morning light.
“Do you know what this is?” Makeda is the next to speak, gesturing to the stone chalice at the center with her long, shapely arm.
I shake my head. “I don’t.”
“This chalice is formed from the stone of Ortus Island,” Tryphone’s low baritone slides over my flesh like a thunderous rage. Every nerve ending in my body goes taut with expected pain. Yet, when nothing happens—neither pain nor pleasure— my muscles do not ease. “Ortus is the symbol of our benevolence in this world,” he continues.
Benevolence? I bite down on my lip to keep from responding even as bile and disgust fill my mouth, coating my tongue with the too-thick sense of deceit.
Liar. I want to scream the fact in his face, but I don’t. I simply nod and watch him, waiting for him to continue.
Tryphone doesn’t disappoint. “The Island of Ortus is made up of the darkest stone in existence,” he states, those wickedly intelligent eyes of his searing into me like a brand to my very existence. A shiver moves through me. Ara twitters, the sound of her little fangs clacking together in fear and unease slipping into my mind before I can cut it off and remove the connection. I can’t fault my spider Queen for her caution. I, too, wish I were anywhere but before the God King.
My body is tense, poised as if ready to either take flight or fight for my survival. His eyes glint with knowing, but still, he keeps talking as if the fact that I’m set on edge by his voice is of no consequence to him. It’s as if it matters not that I could turn and try to flee from him at any second … as if the thought of my escape is not one he’s even considered.
Fear is a tasteless rot coating the inside of my mouth.
“Brimstone is where Divinity was formed in this world,” Tryphone says. “And it is from the brimstone that we may conjure the truth of your blood.”
I swallow roughly before speaking. “Without the Spring Equinox?” I clarify.
“Yes.” Tryphone offers no more explanation as his wide hand moves towards the chalice. “Step forward. Now .”
My body moves before I’ve made a conscious decision, my legs jolting into action at the order from the God King. That, more than anything, makes the fear bubbling inside me turn into something molten and festering. His words are cloaked in a Divine power that is a pressure on my spine, pinning me to the action he demands from me and refusing to lessen its grip.
Legs trembling, I step onto the small dais holding the chalice. The closer I draw, the more I see the shards of dark chipped brimstone embedded into the rock of the chalice. The inky black of the stone glints beneath the low light. My breaths draw in short unsteady pants. I stop about a foot away from the open stone chalice and look down into what appears to be a dark watery liquid sitting in the bottom of the basin. There are dips around the sides of the bowl-like opening, and images flash through my mind of men and women being bent over those indentions with their necks facing downward. Gods—female and male alike—each step up to the chalice and silver glints as throats are slit and blood spills forth to fill the basin, frothing as it collides into a mixture of death. Vomit threatens to come up my throat. I swallow it back before lifting my gaze to the man standing directly across from me.
Caedmon’s eyes are fathomlessly dark. Empty. Devoid of life. A beat passes and then he blinks and a light enters those ebony eyes of his again. His chin dips and the fear fades ever so slightly.
It’s okay, I tell myself. I’m alright. I’m still here. I’m not dead. I am not bleeding. It was simply a hallucination. Not real.
Yet, as I turn my attention back to the inside of the chalice, I can’t help but wonder where that strange scene came from. Why it had felt so real in the first place?
This is not how I expected this to happen, I have to admit to myself. When the God Council had first discussed uncovering my God blood heritage I had assumed it would be before many others, in a public ceremony. The privacy of this room and the press of the six God Council members’ individual presences surrounding me have me wondering if it wasn’t all a lie to begin with.
I am not sure if I’m ready to know the truth, but as Tryphone leaves his pillar and steps forward, producing a long wicked looking brimstone blade from nowhere—the dagger invisible one moment and then in his hand the next—my heart pounds with the realization that I have no control here.
Whatever the Gods find in my blood, it will decide my fate … be it life or death.