45. Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Viola
O ver. Pick up some hair. Under.
Over. Pick up some hair. Under.
Over.
Under.
Over.
Under.
The singular white braid runs down the back of my head, the tail of it hitting right in the middle of my shoulder blades.
"Viola," Tulip calls from outside the door. "Everyone is waiting for you."
"They can wait a little longer," I say, my voice hoarse. Mace sits on the edge of our bed, head in his hands. He's changed into clean clothes, the rich purple of his shirt and dark black trousers reminiscent of something he would have worn as a Patrician in Ytopie. His hair is still wet from where I used my Water magic to rinse the blood of battle and brother from his body.
I gingerly pull on a solid black tank, careful not to jostle my arm too much. It turns out that, as the God of Spring, I can heal myself. It's just a little slower going than healing another. The tank clings to my body as I tuck it into the loose black trousers I took from Zeph's home.
He doesn't need them anymore.
They're big, so I feed my whip through the loops around the waist and tighten it to keep the pants up. The soft linen billows around my legs and almost camouflages my boots as I cross the room.
"Are you ready?" I ask Mace quietly.
"Will I ever be?" He lifts his head from his hands, his angular face made even sharper from grief and exhaustion. The dark bags under his eyes beg for sleep, but we can't put this off.
"After we take care of her and after we tell everyone what happened, we can rest. But until then, we need to go deal with the fallout." Nodding, he stands and takes my outstretched hand, weaving our fingers together.
I pull open the door to see Tulip, her face clean but grave. There is guilt shimmering in her eyes, and I make a note to talk to her about it later.
But not right now.
No, right now, I have an appointment with the citizens of Rainworth and the Bloomtide.
Tulip leads us to the large community hall that we've used for dining, and when I walk through the doors, I'm stricken by the fact that every citizen of Rainworth is here. There aren't many of us, only about three dozen or so between Jaz's modest crew and my companions, but the room feels stifling with all of the bodies, all of the hearts beating within its walls.
One heart in the room does not beat.
A hastily constructed stage at the front of the room has a table in the center and a rigid body covered with a sheet in the middle.
My high priest.
I can tell when Mace's eyes land on the altar as his hand tightens within my own. We walk up the center aisle of tables and chairs, and I look straight ahead, avoiding all eye contact. Because if I see the devastation in the eyes of my people, I do not know if I will have it in me to do what I have to do today.
Next to the table is a chair that is occupied by a beautiful woman with pointed ears and blood covering her face and neck. The Bloomtide is restrained, eyes wild with fear as she moans and groans in an attempt to get someone to free her.
It's hard to beg for forgiveness when your tongue is lying on the battlefield.
Behind Amaryn, Shadow, still in his large seps form, lays coiled, his head and upper body hovering just over her shoulder. His eyes sparkle with keen intelligence as he watches me approach.
Mace and I step onto the stage, and the already quiet crowd stills even further, all attention on us. Right up front, Cirrha and Taegan sit holding hands, both with swollen and red eyes. Taegan's eyes are unfocused, the compounded grief of losing his partner and friend in such a short period of time cracking something within his psyche. Cirrha's jaw is set tight, gaze locked on Amaryn's face.
Tulip slides into a seat next to Morrow, who quickly grabs her hand in his own. Both of them have gotten cleaned up, but Tulip's entire demeanor is subdued. Her eyes flick to Shadow frequently, and I feel a sharp pang of guilt at what his presence must be doing to her. Morrow, ever a rock, pulls her head to rest on his shoulder. When he sees me looking at him, he gives me a reassuring nod, bolstering me with his belief. Jaz is on Morrow's other side with Plume, who is inconsolable. She hiccups and sobs, tears and snot running down her face. But no one stares, no one judges.
She and Zeph were as good as siblings, and she lost her magic on top of it. Jaz supports her through it, handing strips of fabric to continuously wipe her face.
Mace clears his throat, drops my hand, and steps back to stand beside his brother's body, silently letting me know that he cannot handle this part.
That's okay. It's my responsibility to see this through.
"Rainworth," I say roughly, my voice clogged. I clear my throat and begin again. "Rainworth, I bring you here today for many reasons, and none of them are good. In the late hours of midnight, we lost Zeph Nightroot, my high priest, former Patrician of Ytopie, friend, and brother. He should be here with us today, and instead, we will pay our final respects and send him on his journey to the hereafter." I glance behind me and see Mace, his head dropped, placing a hand on Zeph's chest over the sheet.
"And his death is the fault of our so-called Gods." Amaryn thrashes against her bindings, yelling around the gag that circles her mouth. The crowd shuffles uncomfortably, low murmurs rising up with my words.
So I tell them the story.
And not just what happened last night. I tell them the story from the beginning, in it's whole. From stealing the Witch's Ladder to being the vessel to running from Himureal the first time. I admit my faults as we traveled for the artifacts, how I got trapped by Himureal, and the way and the why of summoning the other three Gods.
Every hope and dream we had for what would happen to Krillium pours out of me, stripping me bare for judgment in front of my people. Every mistake, everything we hoped and thought would happen, didn't come to fruition.
When I explain Plume losing her magic and Zeph listening in on the Gods, the crowd grows restless and uncomfortable at learning of my ineptitude, which led to this situation.
At how badly I misread everything.
I thought I was doing what was right, but instead, I should have let the Gods lie and used the magic in the artifacts to support the realm on my own. So now I prostrate myself in front of my people. I choke on my voice as I explain the damage Amaryn did to Mace, how close he was to death, and how Zeph made a choice to feed me so much devotion that the realm ran out, and he had to sacrifice himself to get enough for me to save Mace's life.
"While her hand did not end Zeph's life, her actions are what put us in that situation," I continue, staring at a spot on the back wall so I do not have to look anyone I know in the eye. "I am not blameless. I am aware of the mistakes I made that led us here. It is my fault the Gods were brought back at all, and if I hadn't, Zeph would still be here."
"You couldn't have known," Morrow's voice rumbles from the front row. "Sorry to interrupt, Shadowweaver, but I cannot allow you to take all of this blame onto yourself. Many of us were a part of making the decision to bring these Gods back. You are not a monolith. We all thought this was our best chance to restore the realm."
"He's right," Plume says through hiccups, "Zeph believed this to be the course, too." She wipes her face and straightens her spine, sitting on the edge of her bench in a poised position that is at odds with the sorrow on her face. "The ones to blame are the greedy Gods who desired to steal the fae's magic and subjugate the humans." Affirmations rise up from the audience, a chorus of agreement with Plume surprising me.
"I appreciate this. But as your…" I stumble. I cannot call myself their God. The word sticks on my tongue with the bile that rises at the thought. "As the Shadowweaver," I amend, "it was ultimately my magic that led us here. I take responsibility for this. But I will not let Zeph's death be in vain."
Crossing to stand next to Mace, I place one hand on the small of his back and another on the part of the sheet that covers Zeph's forehead. "Today, we will carry Zeph to the highest cliff, where we will burn his body and send his dust into the realm to nourish and grow and return anew one day."
I take a step back and walk slowly towards the former God. Shadow rises up fully, slithering around me and circling me. "You've been keeping secrets," I chastise. He ducks his head and nuzzles against my neck, soliciting gasps from the gathered crowd. A terrifying beast that I am sure some of its kind have tormented members of this group during the Race, acting like a house pet, must be shocking to those who do not know the story.
"Are you going to stay large forever?" I ask, and Shadow shakes his head, eyes darting at the Bloomtide. "Ah, waiting until I take care of her. Understood." I stand beside Amaryn now, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. Immediately, she stills, staring up at me with animosity in her eyes.
"Rainworth," I begin, never taking my eyes off the former God of Spring. "I have relieved Amaryn of her magic and removed her tongue as punishment for the poison she spewed. But I do not feel that is enough. Until she arrived, the other two Gods were aloof and keen to see what would happen following my plan. Solarius cared only about finding those who worshipped him, and Avidor seemed to only desire my approval and affection."
Mace's shoulders stiffen, his face a picture of disgust. Approval and affection are a very flowery way to say that Avidor wanted to steal me away from my partner and take me for himself, but the citizens do not need that level of detail.
"No, it was Amaryn who had the idea to steal all of the magic from the fae and subjugate all of you. It was Amaryn who dealt a killing blow to my partner, Mace, which ended with his brother sacrificing himself to save his life." I tighten my grip on her shoulder, my other hand tapping a slow, measured rhythm on the hilt of the blade wedged between my whip and my pants.
For the first time, I let my eyes travel through the gathered crowd, making eye contact with my citizens. A strange mixture of emotions is reflected back to me, some eyes full of vengeance and others of sadness. Every emotion that swirls in a tempest inside me has a home in my citizens, and it steels me for what I must do next.
"My next step is to kill Himureal myself. When I do that, I will have the magic of all four Gods within me. While I am loathe to call myself your God, I'm not sure what else I could be once I do this. And so, I give you all a choice." Uncomfortable shuffling begins, low voices whispering to those around them. "When I have the power of all of the Gods, I will support the realm to the best of my ability. I will calm the seas, control the beasts, and quiet the storms. I will ensure the land produces sustenance and that the sun warms your home."
Closing my eyes, I take a deep, cleansing breath. I hadn't realized Mace had moved next to me until I felt his fingers still the ones on my hilt and weave with my own. "I will do that regardless of the decision you make now."
"Decision?" Jaz asks, eyes narrowed. "What are you on about, Vi?"
My chuckle is empty of amusement. "You have a choice today, Rainworth. You can walk out of this room, out of this city, and head to your homes. I will never bother you, never expect devotion from you to feed my magic. I will find a way to support this realm with minimal devotion so you may live a life free of Gods and monsters." My gaze drifts back to Amaryn, and a wicked grin twists my face. "But if you stay, if you choose me as your God, there are several things you must know."
The soft sound of my blade sliding against the leather of my whip tickles my ears as I squat next to Amaryn, staring directly into her wild eyes. "The first thing you must know is if you are my citizen, I will defend you as if you are my family. My friend. An attack against you is one against me and those who know me best will tell you those who attack me do live to regret it."
I cut one of the bindings around Amaryn's shoulders, giving her minimal room to wiggle but allowing me to drag the tip of my blade down the curve of her neck. "The next thing you must know is that I am not a good person. I will do whatever it takes to take care of and save those I care about, with little regard for what that says about me." I stand up, admiring the thin lines that trace across Amaryn's shoulders in pretty stripes.
"And finally, you must know that I am a cruel God." Amaryn flinches, and I grab her with my free hand. "You've heard this part of the speech before, haven't you, Bloomtide?" She attempts to free herself from my clutches, and I laugh hollowly. "I mean, not from my mouth, of course. But the effect is the same." I look out at the crowd, my friends' faces locked on mine. "I am a cruel God," I say again. "I used to say, as the Frostweaver did, that I am a cruel God, but I am just. I'm not sure how true that is anymore."
I walk behind Amaryn, gripping both her shoulders with my hands, the blade in my grip pressing against her throat as I do so. "I'm not sure how just I am anymore. Because after what happened here today, I do not think I have the power in me to be just anymore. No, I think after all that has unfolded, I am no longer a cruel but just God. I think I am just cruel.
"It is with that, Rainworth, that I give you the choice. Walk from here today, knowing you will live a full and happy life where I am not a part of it, or stay, knowing my cruelty could be turned on you if you hurt one of my people, but that I will defend you fervently. Decide, today, here and now, if you are a citizen of the shadows or if you will walk into the light."