Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
I trace meaningless patterns in the dust coating the patio railing, my fingertip crafting swirls that could be fire sigils or nothing at all. I’ve unfurled my wings to stave off the chill and draped them protectively over my shoulders. My feathers’ burgundy streaks nearly match the wine in my cup.
The goblet sits untouched beside me. I should drink from it, numb myself, but even that simple action might be beyond my current capabilities.
Instead, I slump against the cold iron, letting the railing bear my weight as I peer out over Tirene. My kingdom, my responsibility, my home.
An almost imperceptible shift in the air signals that I’m no longer alone.
My body recognizes his presence before my mind does, and despite my rampant despair, my blood warms like embers catching fire after an influx of air.
Sterling’s inherent grace and stealth carries him across the balcony without even disturbing the dust. His wings fold tightly against his back, the elegant silver feathers gleaming beneath the starlight.
He reaches my side, his posture a stark contrast to my own. With his back straight, his shoulders squared, and his hands clasped behind him, he gazes out over the same view I’ve been staring at without really seeing. The distance between us is both infinitesimal and vast.
“How can I fight you?” The raw, desperate question rips itself from my throat. “How can I choose between you and our kingdom? The goddess says if I refuse, Tirene burns. But if I fight you—” My voice breaks, the rest of the sentence impossible to utter.
If I fight you, one of us dies. If I fight you, I lose you or you lose me.
Sterling remains still, his breathing steady and controlled. “I met with Rivlan tonight. At the Storm Cliffs.”
I straighten and face him fully for the first time. “And?”
Despite the threats, I cling to a sliver of hope that this is some sort of misunderstanding, or that the gods will take pity on our situation.
Sterling’s gaze remains fixed on the horizon. That alone indicates the news isn’t good. “He made the situation very clear. If I refuse to fight, he’ll sink Tirene beneath the waves. If I fight and lose, at least some of our people might survive.”
Akin to how Ziva threatened me. Either the pair of them coordinated, or smiting an entire kingdom is business as usual.
My hope extinguishes. “So we’re trapped. Gods playing with our lives like children with toys.” My fingers tremble against the stone railing, anger now mixing with my despair.
“No.” Sterling’s posture shifts, the muscles in his chest rippling. “No, we’re not trapped. We’re just not thinking creatively enough yet.”
A hint of optimism rekindles in my chest. Not in the gods. Not in divine grace or mercy.
Any remaining hope in my body is due to Sterling. More than anything else in the world, I believe in this man and what he’s capable of. “What do you mean?”
“The gods have immense power, yes. But they’re also predictable.
Arrogant.” He faces the view again, his profile sharp against the deepening twilight.
“They expect blind obedience and fear. They’re used to mortals cowering and accepting whatever fate is bestowed upon them simply because that’s how we’ve always responded.
Due to our faith in them, we’ve always followed their will. ”
His fingers flex at his sides with purpose, tiny ice crystals forming and melting in the air around them.
I wet my dry lips, almost afraid to ask. “What are you suggesting?”
Sterling’s mouth curves into his calculating battle smile. “What if we give them exactly what they want…but on our terms?”
“How?”
His eyes come alive with ambition. “They want us to fight as champions. Fine. We’ll fight.”
My heart contracts as I try to piece together his intent. “Sterling—”
“We’ll fight, but we’ll control how we fight, where we fight, and what that fight means.” He strolls closer to me. “We appear to comply. We train openly as champions and make it clear we’re preparing for battle. But secretly, we find a way to undermine them.”
My wings lift from their droop as I straighten. “And how exactly do we undermine gods?”
“By remembering what Rivlan told me tonight. I’m not just a champion, Lark.” Sterling’s demeanor grows more confident. “He called me a guardian. Like the Guardian from the portal. And reminded me that guardians are halfway between mortals and gods.”
I blink, struggling to process this information. “What does that mean?”
“It means I have more power than they believe. And as a dragoncaller, you certainly have more than they expected, since they claim you destroying Narc set all this in motion.” Sterling edges close enough that the cool aura of his magic mingles with the warmth of mine.
“It means we’re not just pawns. We’re players. ”
My mind races. “So we pretend to play by their rules while actually—”
“Writing new ones.” He tips up my chin. “What was it the God of Lost Things said to you?”
I immediately recall that conversation with Orin. “The gods love tricky things.”
Sterling releases my chin and seizes my hand, bringing it to his mouth. “Wanna get tricky with me?” His lips warm my skin where they brush over my knuckles.
“Yes.” I peer into his eyes and discover my hope reflected back at me. “I absolutely do.”
The game has changed. The gods may have written the opener, but Sterling and I will write our own ending.