Chapter 73 Xavier
XAVIER
My fist shot out, and Jaycee ducked.
“Your hair is growing back,” she said with a confident smirk. “Need me to cut it again?”
I tossed another punch, this one connecting with her block. “Yeah.”
I had kept it short against my scalp for a while now. Imogen once said that hair can also hold memories, which was why the old gods wore theirs so long. It was to remember the battles they’d fought and honor those who had fallen. I wanted to remember nothing.
Jaycee went for a punch, and as soon as I blocked, I knew I had made a mistake.
She barely touched the ground before whipping out her foot to drop me on my ass.
Maybe it was a lack of sleep or that my thoughts were going in several directions at once, but she landed her hit, and my back slammed against the dark stone of the courtyard.
I lay there, arms spread wide as the sun darted behind the thick clouds above.
Grunts came from all around us, several celestials training as they had been since dawn.
Jaycee’s face fills my field of vision. She wipes her brow with one wrapped hand. “You let me do that.”
“Maybe,” I said, making no effort to move.
She shook her head, her ponytail sticking to her neck.
The birds resting in the trees at the edge of the courtyard suddenly erupted into flight.
Beneath their loud calls of alarm, a mechanical whir vibrated the air.
The clouds were pushed down, compressed until they split to reveal warships longer than the courtyard.
Four massive engines protruded from their sides, warping the air around them as they hovered above.
The golden bronze and gray behemoths pulsed with energy, causing the celestials below to cover their eyes against the flying debris or run in fear of the sudden arrival.
“No fucking way,” Jaycee swore.
I sat up, raising my hand to my brow and squinting as I beheld the ships. “What is that?”
“Nismera,” Jaycee said.
AFTER CHANGING INTO our council garbs, Jaycee and I hurried down the massive corridor.
Blayne had summoned us, along with two other celestials, to join him in the grand hall.
My heart squeezed every time I walked past these statues and hanging foliage.
The cream stone and gold accents reminded me so much of the Rashearim before the fall.
Our footsteps were quiet as we rounded the corner. Gods and goddesses of the high council were slowly spilling in, their sworn seconds and thirds following them. I noted the blades that bunched the front of their garbs and wondered why Blayne had not asked us to arm ourselves.
My back stayed straight as we walked in after Neth and her celestial guards.
My breath caught at the glory of the large council room.
The center was open, with a soaring ceiling overhead in the shape of an oval.
Levels lined the perimeter, each supported by intricately carved columns.
Statues of gods and goddesses, long passed, were artfully interspersed throughout the room, and flowering foliage dripped from every surface.
Blayne took his seat at the long council table. Given their massive size, every chair looked like a small throne with plush, cream-colored armrests and seats. Every god had a different, intricate design set to fit them. Blayne was the God of the Hunt, and antlers rose from the back of his seat.
Jaycee and I flanked him, keeping back a few steps as any good guard should. I glanced at Jaycee, my eyes widening a fraction as her lips turned up the tiniest bit.
The large double doors behind us closed, and Athos stood as the remaining gods and goddesses found their seats.
“I called this impromptu to discuss our unexpected arrival,” she said, gesturing toward the courtyard and the sky filled with ships.
“This is an act of war.” Koa was the first to speak. His long, dark hair was tied back from his strikingly beautiful face.
Athos held up her hand. “She wished to call a meeting, and I feel we should hear what she has to say.”
Koa said nothing, but I saw the tick in his jaw and the angry flush of pink dancing across his cheek.
No one else spoke. No one here could pull rank on Athos except Kryella, and Kryella would never betray her longest known friend and ally.
They were the oldest, Othello, and everyone else, falling far behind. So when Athos spoke, the gods obeyed.
“I ask that no matter what is said, we remain a unified front,” Athos said, flaring out her garbs before taking her seat.
Tension filled the room as the sound of armored boots came down the hall.
It sounded as if Nismera had brought a small army with her.
The doors opened, and my gut lurched. Two heavily armored commanders entered first, holding the doors, but it wasn’t until she stepped through that I saw red.
I struggled to maintain my composure, my body vibrating with the need to attack.
Nismera strode in like she owned the place, her head held high and carrying Unir’s crown.
Her silver hair was braided and woven into a massive bun nested atop her neck.
Her dark gown clung to her curves, the gold armor shielding her shoulders, breasts, and abdomen only emphasizing her feminine beauty.
I wondered how quickly my death would be if I launched myself at her with a blade in hand. Would I actually get close enough to cut her head off? My shoulders tensed, a part of me begging to find out. Jaycee glared at me, the slight shake of her head drawing me back in.
Nismera stopped at the edge of the table, her legion continuing to file in behind her.
She had brought a solid twenty soldiers, and they struggled to find space in the room.
Her gaze flicked around the table, landing on each of us.
She cast a small smile and a little wave, both gestures incongruous with who she was and the tension vibrating in the air.
“Please excuse my informality. I know I am not welcome, and it would be foolish not to have brought my closest and most deadly friends with me,” she said, gesturing to the soldiers behind her and emphasizing the last part ever so slightly.
“Of course,” Athos said, offering her a soft smile and waving her forward.
The two closest guards moved the chair brought in for her, allowing her to sit before pushing it in. She thanked Henri, the tallest soldier who had opened the large doors for her, and I could have sworn I saw Blayne twitch.
“Welcome to Arcelia, Nismera,” the goddess Neth said with a kind smile. We all knew it was fake, but it just made me adore her more. She sat straight, not the least bit intimidated by Nismera, and I wondered if Nismera envied her for her beauty.
In my opinion, Neth outshone all those here.
Her makeup was expertly applied, with dark lips and darker eyes, and only those inexperienced wouldn’t see it for the war paint it was.
Her white and gold council gown complemented her brown skin, thin gold straps wrapping around her toned arms. I watched her smile drop, revealing the steel edge in her gaze, making her seem just as dangerous as I knew she was.
She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face as the meeting began.
“Your arrival is surprising, to say the least,” Athos began. “We have contacted you several times, hoping to reach some sort of peace agreement with you.”
Nismera tore her eyes from Neth before speaking. “Well, I am here now, and it is of grave importance.”
“I see a queen who has come to heel because a massive portion of her fleet has been dismantled. We’ve heard of the destruction of Milani’s ships in the south. A large portion of her armada is gone, and you’ve lost numbers,” Koa said, eyeing her thoughtfully.
The room stayed quiet, waiting for Nismera to respond. I tensed, readying myself for a crack of power to slice through the air, the precursor to an attack, but none shifted. The only indication she gave that she was annoyed was the tightening of her hands as she leaned on the council table.
“You are correct. There was an attack, but Samkiel did not decimate my fleet. Ayla did.”
The room went eerily still.
“So, you are all aware of her return to these realms?”
Athos placed her hands on the table, folding her fingers. “We are.”
“And you fear not?” Nismera asked.
“That is for us to discuss amongst ourselves,” Athos responded. “Is that why you are here? To discuss Ayla?”
Nismera stared at Athos in a silent battle of wills. “I’ll speak plainly then. We are all aware of what she is and that it is her destiny to rule alongside Samkiel. But Ayla is no longer a celestial. She is Ig’Morruthen and powerful.”
“That we are aware of, too. It’s a situation we intend to monitor.”
“Ah. Monitor.” Nismera tilted her head slightly toward Athos.
“You’re all fools if you think she will follow our customs and rules.
She follows none. Do you think they will follow you when they come for this throne?
Her blood is Ig’Morruthen. That’s what you want to follow?
Have you all forgotten the war we all so desperately fought against them?
You’re not dealing with some honor-bound warrior’s idea of strategies.
Ayla is no more than an animal. Only this beast surrounds herself with those who are battleworn. ”
“And we should just forget the war you started?” Kreylla asked, her posture straight and relaxed. I knew Kryella feared none, content in herself and her abilities. Her magic was powerful, but her swordsmanship was stronger.
“The war I fought for my crown. One that was stolen from me by Samkiel’s birth.”
“We all know the line of ascension falls to the firstborn.”
“And I was.” Nismera smiled, but it promised nothing but death.
“Were you?” Kreylla asked, lifting her hand to pick at her nails. “Born?”
A line of muscles flexed in Nismera’s jaw, the only sign that Kryella’s barb struck a nerve. “Do you challenge my legitimacy?”