11. Chapter Eleven #2
Oh, great divine. Absolutely not.
“Don’t.” I bit out. “Call me that.”
He glanced back, humor painting his face. “Little Seer? Why not? It suits you.” He gestured vaguely toward me. “You’re little…and well, you do realize your station, do you not?”
My teeth ground tight. “Call me that again and I’ll—”
“Curse like a soldier?” He arched a brow and scoffed. “For fuck’s sake, so much for the temple’s sacred mouthpiece. I expected piety. Instead you spit fire.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t bear your anger so openly, you know. It makes it far easier to exploit your weaknesses.”
The words stung because there was truth to them, and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t deny that. My hood shadowed my face as I muttered, “Exploit me all you want—it won’t end well for you.”
His chuckle was wrapped in smoke. “My, my. How brave she is to speak to me that way. What, with my abhorrent reputation and all.”
I started following him, begrudgingly. Not even dignifying his taunt with a response. A wayward branch reached out and snagged my hood, yanking it back, dark waves now cascading down my back.
“By the roots—” My mouth spilled curses before I could get a handle on my rage.
“Precisely my point,” he said, halting in his tracks so quickly that I ran into him.
And gods, he was gigantic. A six foot eight wall of solid stone. I would never get used to standing in front of a divine. I had seen them in the temple from afar, but never had I been this close to one.
I looked up and his gaze caught mine—not with his usual predator’s amusement, but something close to calculation.
It unsettled me more than his taunting did.
I yanked the hood back into place and stepped back with a scowl panting my face. “Enjoy the view, do you?”
Whatever emotion flickered across his features vanished as fast as it came. His mouth curled into a sneer. “I told you robes were impractical, Little Seer.”
“And I told you not to call me that.”
He only chuckled and continued to stride on. Completely unbothered. And against my better judgement, I continued to follow. Though I still remained clenching my fists tightly beneath my cloak.
The forest seemed to press closer, branches dripping silver light as they held the reflection of the swollen full moon. Silence stretched until my tongue burned once more.
“Where are you dragging me, exactly?”
“Where you need to go.”
“That tells me nothing.”
A pause. “Good. If you already knew, you wouldn’t learn a damned thing.” His voice came out gruff, a thread of irritation slipping through.
My jaw ached from clenching it. The hood itched against my neck where it started to fall. I shoved it back in place once more and lengthened my stride to match his.
“Do you always speak in riddles,” I asked, “or just when you want to sound wiser than you are?”
His laugh was thunder rumbling off distant peaks. “Careful, Little Seer. You keep poking and you’ll find my temper has teeth.”
I rolled my eyes. “Your temper isn’t the only one.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed.” His head turned back slightly, green eyes glinting beneath his hood. “You wear it like a sash. Anger is more useful when it’s hidden. Yours sings.”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“And yet you continue to snarl. Loudly.”
I bit back the rude comment on my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being proven right. I’d begun to realize he only found amusement from my anger, and I didn’t like the way that made me feel.
We walked on. The forest darkened, branches clawing at the shadows. The air grew heavier on every step, with the kind of silence that lingers before lightning splits the sky.
“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going, are you? Or what these lessons entail? Why?” I drawled, keeping my head high.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Because if I told you, you’d have already decided what to fear.”
“And now I’m not supposed to?”
He glanced at me sideways. “Fear is only significant if it catches you by surprise. Otherwise, it’s a simple human emotion. One that can be manipulated like the rest that weaken the fragile mortal psyche.”
The words struck something half-buried in me.
He was absolutely maddening. How very godlike, to think that human emotions could be so easily manipulated.
To think that a divine would insinuate any mortal emotion was a weakness, let alone fear, only showed how pompous the Godhead's chosen could be.
I scowled, only to glance his way and find that damned amused satisfaction gleaming back at me.
I would need to be very careful about what emotions I showed around him. That much was clear. To the gods, mortals would always be weaker.
Well. I would prove him wrong if it was the last thing I ever did before I was cast into Karthmor.
A hush rolled over the clearing ahead, unnatural in its stillness. I hadn’t come this far along the lake before, and the eerie feeling that settled in my bones didn’t help with my growing anxiety.
Just ahead, moonlight spilled across a circle of flat stones, worn smooth by centuries of unseen hands. The air hummed with something ancient.
My stomach tightened. “What is this place?”
“Where truths are bound, Little Seer.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
He moved without a word, stepping into the circle as if he'd done it a thousand times before. His hood shadowed his face, but his shoulders shifted, tension melting into focus.
Then he knelt.
I blinked. “What in the realms are you doing? Going to pray to the Godhead for forgiveness for your many sins?”
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t even acknowledge my jab. Instead, his voice came steady. “Shush. This might hurt.”
The words slid under my skin. Might hurt?
The ground shuddered, a hum swelling into a thrumming heartbeat. My pulse raced to match. The air pulled tight around my chest. Whatever this was, it didn’t feel right. It reminded me of the feeling I got right before a vision takes me—an empty pit in my stomach, a glacier before it falls.
The Weave burned alive inside me, violent as fire tangled with lightning. I doubled forward, teeth clenched, heat pooling low in my ribs.
"What the fu—"
“Breathe,” he cut in, eyes fixed on the lake. “Do not fight it.”
Easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one connected to the Weave. Which felt like it was attempting to strangle me with fire at the present moment.
A vibration rippled outward, skimming the surface of Anam Lac. Black water churned though no wind touched it. Glowing veins of crimson spread like cracks in molten stone. Waves lapped relentless against the shore, trying to escape the confines of the bank.
And then the water completely broke.
From its surface, three imposing figures rose. Their garments dripped threads that vanished before touching earth. They stepped forward in unison, yet apart, like shadows cast at different angles. Their hair was white as snow and fair as silk.
The first voice sliced like broken glass. “Too slow.”
The second rumbled low. “Too eager.”
The third sang, sweet as bells. “Perfect timing.”
Each of them had only one eye that stared straight through me, one white, one red and one black as onyx. I swore they saw everything—blood, thoughts, the anger sizzling just beneath my skin.
My mouth hung open. These were the Fates. In the flesh.
The first leaned forward, grin stretched too wide. “She’s small.”
The second muttered, “Brittle.”
“But,” the third whispered, and her smile was the cruelest of all. “She burns with our sacred fire.”
I fought the urge to step back. The scent of sweet pomegranate threaded into my senses until I couldn’t tell who finished or began. They weren’t speaking to me or even with each other—just speaking, and it was all the same.
One lifted a hand, fingers dripping water that hissed against the moss. “You know why you’re here—”
“Though you don’t,” rasped the second.
“But you will,” the third finished, lilting like a laugh.
My jaw tightened. This wasn’t the solemn kind of encounter I’d been taught to expect from the Fates. They were playful, mocking. Yet their knowing pierced through me with the weight of one hundred needles.
But their appearance? Just as strange and off-putting as I would have expected.
Tairngire didn’t flinch. Of course, he didn’t. He had apparently called them here. For what? I wondered, though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
He bowed his head slightly, grinning as though he was simply greeting old companions at a feast.
“Ladies,” he drawled, smoke curling off the word.
I wondered what it would feel like to punch that satisfied look off his face. I’d probably hurt myself in the process, but it would be worth it.
The first tilted her head, lips peeling back, revealing too-sharp teeth. “Stagborn.”
The second sniffled, voice flat as grinding stone. “Awakener.”
The third let her voice drip honey over his name. “Tairngire.” She lingered, tasting it, reverent, almost…gods, what was that threading her tone? Flirtatiousness?
Tairngire rose from his kneel like a mountain lifting. He chuckled, unbothered. “My…reputation precedes me, it seems.” He shot a rueful glance in my direction before turning back to the Fates with his signature smirk. “As ever.”
Ironic how he found his reputation preceding him amusing when it came to the Fates but raged when I mentioned it. The glare I focused in his direction could have cut through glass.
The first snapped her fingers. “Reputation—”
“Is a poor measure,” the second cut in.
“Unless it’s earned,” the third finished, a sly grin on her face.
Tairngire spread his hands, palms upward, feigning graciousness. “You’ve called me by all three truths of myself in less than a breath. Surely, that’s worth a bow.”
The air prickled as their gazes raked over him, and then all three together—threads twining into one voice.
“You never bow.”
The smirk stayed as he crossed his arms and leaned closer toward them. “Not unless I mean it.”
Oh, for gods’ sake. How I loathed this god.
I noticed that he did not, in fact, actually bow.