43. Theos
Chapter 43
Theos
S weat slicks over my spine as the stands of the arena fill, bodies crushing together, the scent of dread mixed with excitement. The Gods have called us all here for a reason and as those of the academies fear them, they, too, also worship their sires.
Not everyone, though. Not my brothers or me. Not Kiera.
I turn my head, seeking her out amongst the crowd, but I don’t yet see her.
“There are no Terra.” Kalix’s low voice is nearly drowned out by the chattering of classmates and Lower Gods, but I hear it.
“What are you talking about?” I glance his way and then gesture to the front of the arena, the head Terra, Dauphine and Hael, are both present. Their dull features are prominent in the sea of Divine Beings and Divine offspring that surround them where they’re both positioned on either side of the U-shaped ring of the stands.
I lift my arm and gesture towards them. “Look, there they…” I drift off, though, because another pass around the area reveals that, other than the two head Terra, there are no servant Terra in the vicinity. None standing alongside their Mortal God wards. None with offerings of extra cushions or drinks. Just those two, their backs ramrod straight and their faces drawn and pale as if they aren’t servants but sentinels standing guard before prisoners being led to the gallows. I lower my arm back to my side.
“We have not been summoned here for battle.”
I’m not so sure he’s right about that, but in terms of Academy normalcy, I doubt that today is a day for the sands to be drenched in Mortal God upon Mortal God bloodshed. Battle, however, can have different meanings.
The sight of a familiar head of silver hair being led by an equally familiar head of dark hair through the throngs of people gives me a modicum of comfort. The sight of Kiera’s face with dark circles mimicking the shade of bruises beneath her eyes and the jut of her chin, forced up and forward as if she’s trying to maintain a careful facade of calm destroys my relief. My lingering rage towards her abates, though not gone, I can tamp it down and compartmentalize it now that we’re faced with a monster none of us truly knows how to handle.
Put swords in our hands and give us an opponent and we can take it down. But this? This collection of dire circumstances with Gods and their presence constantly watching us as we struggle and try to hide away secrets that will get us killed should they be revealed … this is too much. They’ve brought us here for something, and though I don’t believe all Gods are truly cruel, too many of them are complicit in the cruelties of their brethren. Even—as much as I hate to admit it—Caedmon.
Ruen and Kiera join us where we usually sit. Neither of them say anything. Kalix and I shuffle and allow them to take their places to our left with Kiera on the inside and Ruen guarding her other side. Trained though she might be, the protective instinct we feel toward her will not abate and it’s more natural to take up positions as knights might around a Queen of old. An action we can’t seem to help nor, does it appear, that any of us want to change.
I scan the arena and the stands further as the students settle into their seats and the patience of the Gods begins to wane. In a sudden rush, silence descends upon the crowds as Tryphone takes a step towards the lip of the Gods’ balcony and lifts a hand out, palm up and facing the rest of us. Dolos hovers to his side, the shroud of darkness that converges upon his unseen body rippling in what I have always assumed are visual representations of his emotions.
What is he feeling now? I wonder. Fear for the God King or anticipation?
My stomach churns with unease and I lean my head to the side before crossing my arms over my chest. Turning my body the slightest degree, the heat of the body next to me—Kiera’s—permeates the fabric of my clothes and delves into my flesh.
The God King’s power surges out, pressing into not just me, but those surrounding our little party as well. The sensation of weight upon our shoulders is felt in mass waves. Grinding my jaw, I remain steadfast in my determination to keep my head up and my eyes forward.
In my periphery, there are plenty of students who gag and cry out. Some even slump over where they sit, passing out at the heaviness of his presence and power.
What the fuck is this? I want to demand. A ploy to remind us who’s in charge?
Without shifting my head, I continue my perusal of the arena. I see several familiar Gods situated in their usual positions, but when I come upon Caedmon’s usual seat, it remains empty. I scowl. “Where’s Caedmon?”
Kiera shifts next to me, the action drawing her heat away. I grit my teeth and force my arms to remain locked in place, refusing to allow them to bring her closer again.
“I don’t see him either.” It takes me a moment to realize that it’s Ruen who’s answered me.
This is— My thought is disrupted as Tryphone begins to speak.
“Welcome, children.” Tryphone needs no added Divinity to reach the highest of the stands. Even from as far back as we’re sitting, the sound of his deep voice reverberates as if he’s merely a few feet away.
“We’ve gathered you here today,” the God King continues, “to bless you, our glorious blood.”
The softness with which he speaks is unsettling. Kiera bumps into me and I glance down. Her face has me releasing my arms from their position and reaching for her. All of the color has drained from her cheeks and her eyes are glassy, her pupils dilated until only the thinnest ring of gray color is still visible. Her whole body goes rigid, and her throat bobs as if she’s fighting back the urge to throw up.
“Kiera?” She doesn’t seem to hear me, swaying a little in her chair before going rigid once more. Lines of pain strain around her eyes and mouth. Ruen’s head snaps to the side and Kalix leans around me.
“Where’s Maeryn?” Her question confuses me, but the way she says it—with swallowing breaths and stilted syllables—concerns me.
“Kiera, do you need healing?” Is that why she’s asking for Maeryn? She doesn’t answer. I put my hand on her arm. There’s no reaction. Her breathing is shallow and uneven.
My eyes flick up to meet Ruen’s for a brief moment, but his expression tells me he’s just as confused as I am.
“We are so proud of the Academy of Riviere,” Tryphone’s voice cuts through whatever we try to say to her next, his volume growing as if he knows we’re not paying attention to him. I have to bite back a snarl of annoyance.
Cupping my hand against Kiera’s cheek, I turn her head towards me. Her gaze is unfocused. “We need to get her out of here,” I say.
“We can’t leave,” this from Kalix.
Whirling in my seat with a few choice curses on the tip of my tongue, the moment I spot his hard features, I know he’s not saying as much to piss me off. I follow the direction of his eyes. The Gods are watching us.
Not as if they are scanning the crowd and peering at each section of students with the false pride in Tryphone’s tone. No. They’re watching us.
Tryphone. His Queen, Danai. Azai. My upper lip curls back at that last one. My father’s interminable gaze remains unflinching. I can’t tell if Dolos is as well, his dark swath of physical oppression keeping me from seeing past the barrier, but I have no doubt if the God King is fixated on us then so is he.
“Dead men…” Kiera’s whisper has me looking back at her. “Dead men,” she repeats. She tries to get up, but just as quickly slumps back into her seat as if she has no energy.
“Dead men?” I look at Ruen, but he simply shakes his head.
“Not here,” he says, lowering his voice even as he wraps his arm around her shoulders.
“Run … trapped … darkness…” Kiera’s voice is unsteady, but at least it’s quiet, barely loud enough for us to hear. “Truth … taboo.”
She’s breaking down and though I can understand the stress of what’s been going on getting to anyone, now is not the fucking time.
“What caused this?” I ask, directing the question to Ruen as he gazes down at her with furrowed brows.
Indigo eyes meet mine and the world begins to blur. I don’t move as he weaves his illusion, around and around, like cloth curtains separating us from the real world, hiding what’s happening—both the conversation and Kiera’s shaking—from prying eyes and those of the Gods.
“The Gods are sending students to Ortus Academy,” he admits once he’s comfortable that we’re not going to be overheard here. Sweat beads break out on his upper lip and his brow. Dimly, I recognize that it’s likely Tryphone’s power pressing down that’s making him work twice as hard to keep up the illusion. It’s time to talk fast.
“Why would that make her like this?” I nod down to the woman between us. She’s not screaming or crying, but Kiera’s head is somewhere far away. I don’t want to admit it, but she reminds me of … me. In that dark room before my brothers had found me.
“There’s more to it,” Ruen says. “She talked with Regis and we think that the son of the Underworld is working with a God. They probably know her secret and about all of our connections with her. We were hoping to leave before they called us, but it just happened and?—”
“Enough.”
As if he simply put his hand through the surface of a pool of water and snatched us from the depths, Kalix’s voice cuts through the illusion. In an instant, it’s all gone. I blink as chatter rises up. Others are standing, talking animatedly as they leave their seats and begin streaming towards the exits.
“What…” I look around. “What’s going on?” My gaze falls on Kalix, on the hard set of his grinding jaw.
At my side, Ruen uses his hold on Kiera to get her to her feet. Her lashes flutter against her pale cheeks and when she lifts them again, her pupils are back to normal. She frowns and then looks at him first before turning to me and then Kalix.
“What … happened?” Her voice is thready, as if she’s just woken from a long deep sleep.
Fuck me, but I recognize that tone. Closing my eyes, I shove back the awful memories of that dark room and the following weeks, months, and years after I’d been freed. Dark places. Weight on my chest. Unable to breathe.
Ruen and Kiera step out onto the stairs and I take a moment to shake my head before following them.
Kalix is the one that finally answers both of our questions. “The Academies of Riviere and Perditia are being summoned,” he announces as people spill around our bodies, ignoring the way we’re all stock still amongst them. Cool green eyes turn to lock each of us with his stare. His pupils are dangerously slitted. Just like a snake’s. “We’re all going to Ortus Academy.”