Chapter Thirty-Four #3
he says grandly. “The mightiest in the Sunderland! And yes, that would probably have included some monster slaying.”
“Really?”
“I got my first Gift when I was sixteen.”
“The cat,” I say.
He nods.
“That’s really late to acquire a Gift.”
“Only royal Gifts manifest so late,” he says. “As an ice cat, I saw the world differently. I felt both bigger and smaller.
More in tune with the very earth I was walking on. I heard and smelled so many things that were new to me. A rabbit in its
burrow. Robin chicks hungry in their nests. The smell of something decaying in a log. It made me a spectacular hunter. I loved
it. I thought I would hunt for the rest of my life.”
“What changed your mind? Or did it? Do you still want to be a hunter?”
“Oh, gods, no. That’s the last thing I want.”
I nudge his shoulder with my own. “Well?”
“I got my other Gift.”
“I see.”
“I was hunting. There’s a reserve of land along the escarpment. The shade allows plants and animals to thrive. It’s considered
palace grounds, and hunting there is poaching, but my foster mother had given me permission.”
“Of course.”
“I had just stalked and shot a desert hare—stalked it as the cat, shot it with my bow. It wasn’t a clean kill. The arrow skewered
the poor thing, but it missed all the important bits. It lay in the dirt, thrashing and bleeding.”
I think I know where this is going.
“The Gift-fever came upon me for the second time in my life. Even worse than before. I was out of my head. It seemed like
I vomited up everything I’d eaten in the last month. But when my vision cleared and my stomach stopped turning inside out,
I sprinted toward that hare and dropped to the ground beside it. I removed the arrow as I called on my magic to stop the bleeding.
Everything was so natural, so right. I healed every torn muscle, a bit of intestine, the wounds in its skin. It bounded off
like it had never been touched. Of course I immediately passed out. Didn’t wake up until the sky was sparkling with stars.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. It was also . . . thrilling? I realized I never wanted to hunt for sport again. I would hunt to eat, or to feed someone else, but never for fun. My Gifts are . . . at odds, I suppose. The cat holds the key to death. Healing holds the key to life. I’m not old enough or wise enough to know how to use them together, or if there can ever be any harmony between them.
So, I think I want to err on the side of life.
That’s what I would do, if I was not Cerastes’s chosen.
I would dedicate my life to helping people. To healing them.”
“Maybe you still can,” I say. “As a god.”
“Maybe,” he says, but doubt tinges his voice.
“You sound skeptical.”
He shrugs. “None of us has any idea what it’s like to be a god. And as far as I can tell, the gods have never actually helped
anyone. In fact, all we know for sure is that one of them created the blight that nearly destroyed the world.”
“And the monsters.”
“And the monsters.”
“They gave us our Gifts, right?”
“Supposedly. But the original gods don’t even exist anymore, a fact they keep carefully hidden. Who knows what else is true
or not true about them?”
“I see your point.”
“But if there’s a way for a god to be good, maybe I can find it.”
“You will. And Cerastes could not have chosen better.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “Thank you, Bria,” he says, giving me a squeeze. “I appreciate that.”
It was such a natural, easy gesture that it doesn’t occur to me to be surprised. Instead, I lay my head on his shoulder.
Neither of us moves.
Softly, he asks, “What about you? Did you always want to inherit an inn?” His warm breath tickles my scalp.
“No. Anja and I were going to run away and have adventures.”
“Really?”
“But as we got older, the inn sort of creeped into my future. It was the expected thing. Ma, Da, and Grandda all treated it
like a foregone conclusion. Eventually I did too.”
“And Anja? Would she have inherited it with you?”
“I would have split my inheritance with her. But she wanted to attend the college of magic. Once her Gift was revealed, she
realized she could do research there. We were saving for her tuition, but I’m sure they would have given her a scholarship
when she applied.”
He gives me another gentle squeeze. He knows how much I loved my sister. “And now? Do you still want to run an inn?”
I’m not sure how to answer. “I don’t know. I love my home. But . . .”
“But?” he prompts.
“The Sunderland is a much bigger, more interesting place than I imagined.”
“I’m about to say something, but you have to promise never to tell your mother I said it.”
“I promise . . . ?”
“You must do what you think is right. Even if that means not going home.”
I stare at him. The thought had never occurred to me. “You know what? You are a great conversationalist.”
“I tried to tell you.”
We sit like this a long time, neither of us wanting to move. I know I should extricate myself from his embrace. If I don’t, I’ll turn my head just so and—
His stomach growls.
I stand abruptly. “Well, I think the food is safe for you to eat,” I say. “I highly recommend the orange nectar.”