36. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Mace
" T ake control of it," Avidor all but sneers, eyes narrowed at me. "You say you have control of my magic, so take it from me."
Floating in the air between us, controlled by his Geomancy magic, is a large flail that Avidor constructed from trace minerals in the dirt beneath our feet. It whips out at me again, and I dodge, narrowly avoiding being hit in the side with it. I've been trying to get control of it for at least ten minutes, but I can't focus long enough to set my intentions before he tries to hit me with it again.
"I'm not like you," I pant, dodging another strike. "I have to set my intentions. I cannot just think magic into existence."
"Another reason why your dirty magic is weak," he spits. "Another reason why you are unworthy to carry the echo of my power."
This refrain had been going on all morning, his insults growing less and less veiled until they became crystal clear.
Avidor does not like me.
He does not respect me.
And he certainly does not think I am good enough to be with Viola.
I thought I was imagining that his interest in her had a sexual edge, but when Viola shared with me the things he'd said to her, my suspicions were confirmed. I'm not surprised he feels a draw to her—Himureal did as well, even if his was more familial. What I am surprised about is how blatant he's been. He has not hesitated to remind me that he will be here longer than I.
I hadn't really considered how Viola was going to outlive me until he continued to hammer me with the fact. Fae live a long time, but now that she has a full complement of Godly magic, she has become immortal.
A fact that he has gleefully reminded her of every time he sees her.
Avidor's flail clips my arm, ripping the flesh open and soaking my white shirt with bright red blood. The pain fires up my magic, and with the lightest of intentions, I take control of the flail and throw the God's magic back in his face. He dodges it, but his bare feet nearly slip on the damp grass.
"Finally! I was beginning to think you were worthless," he says, dismantling the flail and sending the minerals back to the earth.
Before he can continue to insult me, Viola appears through the keep, having left the confines of Rainworth to join us in our spar. She looks every bit the leader I always knew she could be. Her white hair is pulled back in a leather tie, resting high on her head, with the ends lying in a sleek column that tickles the tops of her shoulders. Her chest is wrapped in a tight black fabric that somehow acts as both a chest wrap and a shirt but leaves her shoulders and arms bare, a strip of her lower belly visible above the snug black trousers she's wearing. Her heavy boots stomp down the pathway to the green space we've been practicing in.
Maybe we can skip the spar and lock ourselves in our home because she looks delicious right now, and I'm tired of dealing with Avidor.
As soon as Viola approaches, Avidor's entire demeanor changes, and his face breaks with a warm smile that screams of Influence and deceit.
Is that what I looked like when I was trying to win over the Lowlands?
No wonder they all distrusted me.
I have no doubt Viola sees through his rouse when she bypasses him and moves to my side, hands on top of my arm, turning it around to view it from all angles. She leans down and, without asking me, licks some of the blood from the wound. I never mind when she reads my blood since I have nothing to hide from her, but I do feel strange that Avidor is witnessing. It's not necessarily intimate, but it does make her momentarily vulnerable, and I do not want him to see her that way. He looks on curiously, eyes narrowed at where her hands touch my flesh.
She's gotten much better at withstanding the effects and barely wavers on her feet now. After just a few moments, her eyes clear, and she beams up at me, her broad smile warming every part of me that had tensed up during my spar with the Harvest Lord .
There's no telling what she saw. I have given up directing my thoughts and instead let her explore whatever my blood wants to tell her. Most of the time, she doesn't share with me, but it has never once been something that has given her pause. As soon as she comes out of the bloodlust, there is pure affection in her eyes every time.
"Let me take care of this for you," she mutters, running her finger over the cut. It knits underneath her touch, her newly acquired Healing magic working into my flesh and leaving me as good as new. "It's incredible how different Healing magic feels from the others," she remarks as Shadow materializes from who knows where and climbs up her body to rest around her neck.
"Most of the magic you use has been in the context of a battle," I say, wrapping my arm around her waist and tugging her into my side. "Healing is literally the opposite of that. Do you not like it?"
"Not that I dislike it, but if I'm honest, it doesn't feel like me. It's too soft."
"Well, this is sweet," Avidor says, his voice dripping in faux sincerity. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Shadowweaver?"
"Zeph told me you two were sparring. I wanted to join in." She extracts herself from my hold and faces Avidor fully, crossing her arms over her chest. Shadow picks his head up and flicks his tongue out at the God.
Is the snake annoyed with him? I knew I liked that creepy thing .
"Oh, it would be my honor," the Harvest Lord says with a bow.
I take a large step back, and Viola drops her arms, widening her stance and pulling shadows from the surrounding area to her, which undulate like a mass of snakes around her legs. "Then let's begin, shall we?"
The two of them go back and forth, dodging and lashing out with their magic as they circle one another, neither getting in a good hit. "You're taking it easy on me, Avidor," Viola taunts, sweeping Avidor's feet out from under him with a tendril shadow. "I know you've got more tricks up your sleeves than this."
"I am not the warrior God," he remarks with a grin. "If that was what you wanted, you should've challenged Solarius."
"He's next on my list."
I chuckle from my position off to the side, stretching out in the warm grass. I'm so engrossed with the displays of magic I don't notice Morrow lowering himself down next to me. He bumps his shoulder into mine, startling me.
"Fuck, Morrow, you just took a few years off my life."
"Eh, you won't even notice you'll live so long," he says with a chuckle. "They're sparring?"
"It's surprisingly not very interesting," I admit under my breath. "They're both holding back."
He hums quietly, resting back on his right hand. I sneak a glance at his left arm. He seems to be adjusting well to his loss of limb. It's strange to see him missing a forearm and hand, but he's starting to utilize the upper arm and elbow joint in his daily life. He catches me staring and shakes his head. "You can just ask, Mace."
"How are you doing?" I say, ducking my head as an errant shard of Ice magic comes flying my way.
"Sorry!" Viola shouts over her shoulder.
Morrow shrugs, not even reacting to the magic swirling around us. "I mean, I don't have a choice but to figure it out, do I?" He sighs, holding up the stump and staring at it. "As much as Tulip tries to tell me it won't limit me, you and I both know it will. I'm still holding out hope that maybe the Bloomtide can do something about it. Plume has said she'll ask."
"It's worth a shot," I say. "But, I want you to know I've been really impressed with how you've handled this. I don't think I could've adapted as well as you."
"You could have, and you would have," he nods at Viola, who is currently dodging a small bolt of Lightning magic, "for her."
We sit in silence, watching the Gods battle. Both smile and laugh, and neither tries hard to best the other. It quickly becomes obvious that they're both just showing off their command over magic. Morrow's eyes bounce back and forth between the two before his face lights up with a mischievous grin. "Shadowweaver!" he shouts.
She stops, holding up her hand to Avidor, and turns. "When'd you get here, Morrow?"
"Been here a while. Come here right quick."
Viola walks towards us, and Morrow gets to his feet, leaning to whisper in her ear. I watch as her eyes light up, mouth parting slightly. Her tongue traces the underside of her top teeth in thought. "You think that will work?"
"In theory. Worth a shot."
With a vicious grin, Viola turns back to Avidor, cracking her neck. Shadow lifts his head up again and hisses at the God of Autumn, who raises his eyebrow at the familiar. "Your snake doesn't like me," he says.
"He doesn't really like anyone," she says with a shrug. "I made him from a shadow."
"I would love to hear that full story one day."
"It's not very long," I say, rolling a blade of grass between my fingers, mind drifting back to the day I coached Viola into making her snake corporeal. "What was a shadow became a snake with just a little focus. Viola was quite distraught that she had a snake on her arm." She scowls at me, and her mouth drops to interrupt me. "Despite the fact she put it there herself," I say to cut her off.
With a huff that is so un-Godlike and very reminiscent of the Viola Mistflow who stepped off the elevator, she turns back to Avidor. "Enough playing around," she says, ending the conversation. "Let's spar for real."
Avidor raises his eyebrows and then drags his gaze down Viola's body. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, and now I wish she wore more clothing today. "I thought we were sparring?"
Viola's grin is more like her teeth being bared as she laughs. "I barely broke a sweat." She gathers a chunk of shadows in her hands, and they solidify with barely a blink from Viola. Avidor watches and quickly forms a flail in front of him again. Viola's hold on the base of the shadows allows her to whip them towards the Harvest Lord, wrapping around one of his arms. He smothers the shadows in a shower of dirt, and then his flail strikes out at Viola.
I watch in amazement as the flail pauses midair, inches from smacking Viola in the face, and then it spins, lashing out at Avidor. The ends of it burst into flames and strike Avidor in the gut. He hits the dirt, hands around his stomach, which is bare and vulnerable because the God never seems to wear a fucking shirt.
"How did you do that?" he groans, pulling his hands away to survey the damage. Deep cuts line his stomach, but they don't bleed much because the heat of the flail must have cauterized the wounds as they were formed.
Viola rushes to him, pushing him flat on his back and running her hands slowly over his flesh, knitting it beneath her fingers. "I took control of your magic and mixed it with some of mine," she says, her tone so nonchalant she may as well be describing the weather.
"Oh, is that all?" he says with a grimace, pushing her out of the way. "You don't have to Heal me. I'll be right as rain quickly, I won't die."
"These cuts are deep," she says, trying to force him back down.
"I'm a God, dearie. As long as I have my magic, I won't die." He groans, pushing himself to his feet. "It just fucking hurts. My pride and my body," he adds the second part under his breath.
Viola backs away from him, clearly sensing that he does not want her assistance. She exchanges a conspiratorial glance with Morrow. "That was your idea?" I said quietly, leaning closer to him.
He nods and grins widely. "If we can combine magic before it's cast, it was worth a shot to see if it would work afterward, too."
"It was a good idea," Viola says, standing beside me as we watch Avidor head back into the city. "You've got a real eye for battle strategy."
Morrow grins at Viola and shrugs. "I read a lot of books."
We watch Avidor stumble through the keep without a look back at us, and Viola sighs, shaking her head. "I don't think he's my biggest fan anymore."
No real loss, of course.
He was getting too interested in her, anyway.