29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Viola
I have memories of sitting outside as the sun began to set, the wind blowing across my face, and a slight chill in the air. The type of dusk that felt crisp, tangible, like I could clutch it to my chest and keep it with me.
Avidor's voice feels like that. It crashes over me, whipping around my ears until it wraps itself deep within me.
"I have been so impressed by your journey," he says as we walk to the home I had prepared for him. "I mean, really, when my brother had you captured, I was worried you wouldn't make it out."
His praise flies over my head as I get stuck on something he said. "How did you watch all of this?"
The Harvest Lord looks up at the sky, closing his eyes to the sunlight. He's a uniquely handsome man. His features are strong, with a long, pointed nose, high cheekbones, and slightly gaunt cheeks. The rot that crawls up his body has a beautiful intricacy as if it were a tattoo. With long, thin limbs and a slim build, he reminds me a bit of Loris, Zeph's friend.
He catches me examining his appearance and raises his eyebrow with a sly grin on his face. "I know my brother told you we trapped him in a realm devoid of sensory input," he begins.
"Which, we're going to talk about, you know that, right?"
"Of course," he concedes, but he waves me off. "When the others are here, we will all need to discuss what happened."
He stops walking, waiting for my attention to be wholly on him, and holds his hands in front of him in the shape of a square. "Think of this realm as a glass box. Everything that ever was, or ever will be, is in this box. It's visible but unreachable outside of it. Outside the box are other boxes, and there is an endless collection of them lined up in rows infinitely. Within each box is a realm, unlike anything you could dream of."
The idea of so many worlds, so many planes of existence, is hard for me to fathom. I try to picture these boxes lined up in columns and rows and walking between them. In my mind, it's a blank, white room with glass cubes that are in rows and columns, and I can walk between them all and peer into each realm.
"I was trapped outside this realm," he continues, dropping his hands. "But instead of being free to wander and see other realms, imagine that the Krillium box was placed inside another, larger box. My siblings and I were each slid between the interior and exterior boxes. We couldn't interact, but we all had visibility of the realm."
"So the three of you watched your high priests betray you and not return you?" I ask, taking him by the elbow and turning him down a broken pathway.
His face darkens, and his jaw ticks. Suddenly, the calm, almost sleepy God looks as dangerous as the storms he commands. "Imagine my shock when they absconded the magic that was supposed to return us," he spits. We pass through a doorway to a small stone cottage, and he shakes his head. "Never you mind, it's in the past. I am dying to know more about you."
"If you've watched my whole life, don't you know it all already?" I gesture towards the wooden table that Plume managed to use Flora magic to craft and take a seat. He joins me, leaning forward on his elbows.
"I watched it from outside, Viola. I want to know what is inside you."
Wrinkling my nose, I look away from his piercing amber gaze. Something about the way he phrased that sends a chill down my spine, and I fight not to show it. "You'll have to give me some prompts, Avidor, I'm not much for sharing my feelings." I suddenly wish I had something to do with my hands.
As if he heard my thoughts, Shadow wraps up my leg and climbs up my body, resting around my shoulders.
Avidor smiles at my familiar and reaches out to pet him but gets nothing but a hiss from the snake. "Of course, I did notice that you're not exactly forthcoming with your inner desires." He smiles, his good looks almost boyish as he gazes at me from under his lashes. But something tells me it's a calculated look like he's practiced it all his life and is intended to disarm me. "But you managed to let my brother in some, didn't you? I seem to recall a curious conversation in which you confessed to having some fear of me."
My cheeks heat, and I duck my head. "As a child, yes," I hedge. "But as I'm sure you noticed, I'm partnered with someone who wields your magic, so I have clearly gotten over that."
"What was it you said scared you?" he muses, tapping a long finger on his pointed chin. Ah, I remember now." A feeling of warmth rolls over me, and the magic within me recognizes it and writhes against it, blocking it from entering my system. I can feel the push of it against every part of me, my brain feeling tight as I fight against that magic.
It's nothing like when Mace tried to Influence me. No, this is more insidious. It feels like if I give into it, my brain will never be mine again.
"You were afraid of being Influenced," he concludes, sitting back and crossing his arms. "But I see now that fear is certainly unfounded."
"I don't appreciate you attempting to Influence me, Avidor, all things considered," I spit, barely containing my anger.
How fucking dare he?
I am his equal, every bit a God as he is, and I brought him here, and he sits across from me and tries to use the magic I possess against me.
He chuckles, holding his hands up, palms forward. "Apologies, Shadowweaver. I would not attempt to Influence you to do anything untoward, you know how the magic works."
"Does it work that way for Gods, I wonder?"
He ignores my question. "I was just testing how much of my magic was inside you. "
"You could've asked."
Leaning forward, his face crossing the center of the table into my space, he grins widely. "But what's the fun in that? Come now, Shadowweaver, it's been so long since I've had someone fun to play with."
Shadow hisses at the God, and he looks at the snake with amusement as he sits back in his chair. My skin is crawling, and I want nothing more than to get up and leave, but we need this God. I push down the bile that threatens to rise in my throat. "I'm not sure I know what you mean by that."
Avidor waves his hand as if swatting my words from the air. "Someone who could match my magic is all. I think you'd be a fun challenge to conquer."
There it is again, that thinly veiled innuendo that seems to lace all of his words. It's just subtle enough that if I make a big deal of it, he could say that I misunderstood him entirely. But I know men like this. I've been around them all my life.
He's not a predator, but he's close. He's testing the waters in a way that he can pretend never happened, that I misunderstood, that I'm just a silly little woman who read into what he said, and he was just being nice.
They're never just being nice.
No one who has good intentions tries to make you believe that what you experienced is false. No one who has good intentions tries to rewrite your narrative.
He is charming, yes.
He is handsome, of course.
And he is overwhelmingly powerful.
And all of those things are what makes him so dangerous.
I can see through these words. I can dodge them elegantly and not fall victim to his trickery.
But others may not be able to.
He drags his index finger across the top of the table, the nail scraping as he does. "You've always been drawn to my magic, even if it was through fear. I mean, look, you've even mated with someone who possesses but a breath of what I can accomplish."
I rise to my feet, unwilling to entertain this conversation anymore. "I think you need some time to get adjusted to the way things are now. You've been gone a long time, and you seem to have forgotten that speaking like that can get your teeth knocked the fuck out." I catch the slack-jawed expression on his face out of the corner of my eye as I turn. Walking to the door, I pause in the doorway, resting one arm on each side of the frame, and look over my shoulder as I slap a wide smile on my face. "Welcome to Rainworth, Harvest Lord. I'll send someone by to collect you for lunch. Until then, feel free to explore, meet people, or meditate."
Without a backward glance, I leave him behind, and the eerie film that coated me while I was near him evaporates.
Zeph is saying something that I am sure is of importance but I cannot focus on it. We have been sitting at this table in this barely repaired home for two hours now, and I am at the point where if I have to talk to anyone else, I may scream.
"Plume's messages to the towns seem to be working. I am picking up more and more devotion towards you lately," he says, hands curled around a steaming mug.
Pushing away from the table, I begin to pace around the room, trying to get the anxious energy from my encounter with Avidor out of my system. "Great, sounds good, I hope I don't let them down," I say absentmindedly.
"Shadowweaver," a sleepy voice says from the doorway. I look up and see Avidor leaning against the opening. He's still shirtless, with those pants slung low on his hips, revealing his slim and toned stomach. His lines of Decay traveling up his arms and neck are on full display. "Do you have a moment?"
Zeph rises slowly and nods to Avidor and then to me. "I'll take my leave. You know where to find me if you need me." Placing a hand on my shoulder, he bows his head slightly to me as he passes me on his way out the door. He slips past Avidor, who's still blocking the entrance, with a surprising grace for a man of his bulk. The Harvest Lord enters and stands across from me, a sheepish look on his face.
"I have to apologize," he says quietly. "It doesn't excuse the way I spoke to you, but fuck," he rubs his face with his hands, a gesture that reminds me of Mace. I angle my shoulders more toward God and cross my arms, curious about where he's going to go with this. "I have never met someone with my magic before. When I am near you, it is like the magic within me recognizes its other part and pulls me towards you." His face is vulnerable, his shoulders drooped, and I cannot help but feel the same thing he does.
My magic sings with him around, sparking at my fingertips and begging me to let it out to play.
Sighing, I drop my arms and rub my hands on my thighs, brushing my fingers across the hilt of my blades. "I get that. Himureal immediately declared me his daughter and still hasn't let it drop."
"That's the feeling he gets?" Avidor says, confusion marring his striking features. I could not even attempt to guess Avidor's age, but when he looks at me with sincerity, I could believe he was the same as me. If we were both humans in the Lowlands, he'd be massively popular with the men and women of the village.
He is not at all what I expected of a God, but then again, I suppose Himureal isn't either
"Do you understand how powerful you are, Viola?" Avidor says, jolting me out of my thoughts. "My magic practically preens in your presence."
"Mace is an Autumn fae, and you turned down the opportunity to walk with him. If your magic drives your decisions, why not take that opportunity?"
"That is not my magic," he spits, taking a step back. "The magic of the fae is dirty. It's a bastardization of the devotion gifted to the Gods."
I hold up a hand, stopping him from saying more. "What do you mean their magic is dirty?"
"It's not magic bestowed by the Gods or of the Gods. It's stolen."
Gesturing towards the table, I sink into a seat and watch as he does the same. I drum my fingers on the table as I think. "Stolen? Everything I know says that when you were banished, the magic entered humans and created the fae."
"Yes, when our high priests released us from this realm, all of the devotion for us that existed was spread out among the humans. But they were never supposed to keep the magic!" He bangs his hand on the table. "Our priests knew this! They were supposed to do the rituals immediately so we could remove our magic from the humans who received it. Instead, they decided to keep it for themselves."
"None of their journals mentioned this," I say under my breath. "Do you really think that's why they didn't bring you back?"
"Unequivocally. Magic is power, and power corrupts. I don't think they ever intended to bring us back." His face falls, and he runs his hands through his hair, leaving it messy and awkwardly placed on his head. "Their magic is stolen, Viola," he says again. "It is running out because the devotion for us is all but gone. No one worships us anymore, which means no devotion can be pulled from the realm to power fae magic."
"Okay, well, then all we need to do is get the people worshipping all of the Gods again, and that should bolster magic and fix the problems we've been having."
He looks at me curiously, eyebrows wrinkled, but the expression slacks, and his eyes soften quickly. "Theoretically, that should fix the problem, yes."
At least I have confirmation that all that we have been doing is not for naught.
"But," he says, and my spine stiffens. "If the fae pull their magic from the devotion meant for the Gods, we will be unable to utilize that devotion ourselves. If we use all of the devotion, no magic will be left for the fae."
His words hang heavily in the air between us, and I find myself tapping my fingers on my thigh as I roll his words around in my head. "I want to make sure I'm understanding," I begin slowly. "The devotion that powers the fae's powers is the same as the devotion that powers my own, and as I use mine it takes away their ability to use magic?"
"That's a very simplistic way to look at it, Viola." He leans back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and steepling his fingers together. "I'm sure you noticed that magic was stronger when you released the seeds of magic from their artifacts, right?" He doesn't wait for me to provide confirmation. "You began to receive the devotion meant for that God as soon as it became a part of you. When you received my fragment, all of the belief and worship towards me was able to become true devotion again with you as the recipient. That allowed more ambient magic to be utilized by the fae."
"As long as we don't use all of the devotion then the fae should have no problem with their magic, then, right? "
"This is all theoretical, Viola. Obviously, there were no fae in my time. This is my best guess from what I've seen over the centuries observing the realm. But yes, as long as there is ambient devotion magic, the fae should be able to continue with their little spells."
Avidor sighs heavily, his face growing weary and his shoulders slumping forward. This conversation felt so honest and straightforward, not at all what I expected after dealing with the cold, calculated madness that is Himureal.
"Let's not talk about that anymore. I am just so relieved to be here, to be able to speak to others." He looks directly at me, his eyes twin ambers, and I find myself trapped in his gaze. I take several steps towards him, closing most of the distance that separates us. He grabs my hands in his own. "And I would be remiss if I didn't express just how sorry I am for coming on so strong, Viola. I feel a pull towards you that is undeniable, but I never should have been so forward."
"I appreciate you taking the time to come here and apologize. But I am with Mace, and you need to be aware of that." My words are clipped as I drop his hands, hoping he gets the message clearly that I will not be entertaining his advances even though I want nothing more than to learn from him.
"Understood, Shadowweaver. Just remember, Gods live forever. Fae do not." He pushes to his feet and slinks out the home, his words sending my brain into a tailspin.