12. Chapter 12 #2
Lily’s mouth falls open. Maxine white-knuckles the table. Bella’s face blanches as the goddess cranes her neck in my direction. “It’s a ring that’s meant to never come off,” the queen utters, her voice malignant.
“Forgive me, Sister,” Rhaziel says between bites, his throat bobbing with each hefty swallow.
“But a diamond is not much of a gift if they can’t take it off.
It’s merely a shiny rock.” The mischievous glint in his eye informs me that his apology was a farce.
He’s trying to irritate his sister, and it’s working.
At first, the queen looks like she’s about to rip out his heart and eat it with her bare hands.
But instead, she taps her extra-long nails on the table, breathes in deeply, and replies with, “That’s because the ring is not a gift for its monetary wealth, Brother.
But rather, it’s a gift for its immense intrinsic value.
For if these mortals fall in love with their chosen god by the deadline, they shall become consortesses of the divine.
They will be indispensable, for their beating hearts shall be what anchor us to this universe.
” Her fiery gaze sweeps over us all once more, and then she sits down and lodges a fork into her smoked venison.
“I am offering each of you the gift of political power and the protection of a lifetime.
For you, bloodmagic will become as frivolous as an obsolete, dying star.
You shall be awarded everything to your hearts' desire, and more.” She cuts into the meat, blood leaking all over her plate.
Lily practically melts with giddiness.
Even Maxine smiles at the prospect.
“What if we’re incapable of falling in love?
” I blurt out. Damnit, I’d really meant for that thought to remain inside my head.
Apparently, the overwhelming sensation that my life is slipping away from my grasp has caused my tongue to loosen.
Which in turn, has caused the gods to stare at me like I’m a snack, and I’d been trying really hard to avoid that.
The queen stands from her chair, glides across the room, and then leans subtly into my ear. Across from me, Bella’s eyes widen in horror.
“You will fall in love with your chosen god by the end of the week,” she quietly snarls, “or else you will face the penalty of death. Just like the rest of the mortals who fail to heed my marriage mandate. Do not underestimate me, Pet, for I intend to dismember many limbs once this fucking curse is over with. I will not be sent to Purgatory due to your lack of compliance. Mark my words.” She scrapes her fingers along the nape of my neck and then freezes, almost as if she’s been spooked.
“Hello, Shadow,” a gravelly voice says. My attention diverts away from the queen’s rough nails and toward the leather-studded armor standing in the doorway, which belongs to a man with the fiercest of eyes I’ve ever seen.
Two orbs of golden lightning pierce through my very soul like they fucking know me.
I drop my buttered roll into my lap, just as the queen skitters back to her seat.
Augustine.
“Late as usual, Brother,” Thalmos snorts, closing his book.
Brother?
Augustine strides into the dining hall with a sardonic smirk splayed across his infuriatingly handsome face, not once breaking eye contact with me. But he does somehow manage to swipe a buttered roll off the table without anyone else noticing.
“Since when has the God of Dreams ever been on time?” Rhaziel murmurs quietly between bites of steak. “If roles were reversed, our dear sister would’ve removed my head from my shoulders and buried it in a sand dune south of Malgrave.”
Did he just call Augustine the God of Dreams?
“This is a mistake,” I say, with far less vigor this time.
“You dare speak to a god that way?” Rhaziel raises his voice.
“I—” My heartbeat skitters.
Rhaziel’s powerful fist collides with the table, leaving behind a crater-like indent in its wake.
The rest of us jump from our seats, but Augustine doesn’t flinch.
Instead, his eyes flicker with amusement as he leans over the back of a nearby chair and says, “Perhaps our sister would appreciate you more, Rhaziel, if you’d show even an ounce of self-restraint.
Must you always break things? What is that, your eighth table this week?
” He takes a thoughtful bite out of his roll, and Rhaziel’s face purples with rage.
The gods continue bickering amongst themselves, but I’m too distracted to pay any attention to what they’re saying; too busy staring up at Augustine like we’re the only two people in the room; too busy holding my breath until everything melts away like wax paper and tepid dreams. “You swore to me that you wouldn’t ask for my hand in marriage,” I whisper. “You made a promise, and you lied.”
This I must say too loud, because the gods fall silent. Even the queen looks at me.
“I didn’t lie to you, Little Bird,” Augustine replies softly, his gaze drifting toward my arm, his expression visibly relaxing after confirming that my spellmark is well-concealed beneath the fabric of my sleeve.
“Nor do I expect for you to marry me against your will. My only condition is that your heart continue beating. That would please me greatly.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip so hard that it feels like I’ve just bruised it. I want to spit in his drink. I want to wind my hands around his thick neck and squeeze the ever-loving life out of him. But instead, I sit back on my hands and snarl, “You only expect for me to exist? Really?”
Is that why I’m trapped within the confines of this castle with your crazy family?
He levels me with a curious stare. “Yes,” he concludes promptly. “That is my heart's greatest desire.”