Chapter 79 Solace
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Solace
Lightning flashed across my skin, twining with my hair that fell limply down my back, sodden with the rain I’d conjured in a desperate attempt to squash the tendrils of magic that ate at my very soul.
Magic that godling bitch used to destroy my crystal—the tether that kept a piece of my soul safe on this plane. Without it, I was mortal.
Horribly and utterly mortal.
A coldness seeped through my wet dress where it clung to my form, revealing every inch of me to the open-mouthed ogling of Samyr’s elite as they hung around the manor entryway, hoping for whatever scraps of attention I or that wholly incompetent Lady d’Hida would bestow upon them.
I hissed, baring my teeth in a feral way that was sure to send them scurrying back to whatever dark corner they crawled from as the coldness crept into my bones, taking residence somewhere deep within my chest.
My body shook both from the foreign feeling taking root in my soul and the ordeal I just survived.
It was difficult for my immortal mind to wrap around the fact that I—the Goddess of Lies—was duped by my own brother.
Fooled and led astray just so a mortal he deemed more worthy than me, his beloved sister, could become the Goddess of Destruction.
A fledgling goddess with no control of her power, no understanding of what she commanded, who nearly killed me.
My heart thumped wildly in my chest in time with the erratic quickness of my steps as I rushed down hallway after hallway in an attempt to find somewhere I could rage without the prying eyes of this damned court.
The fury and pure helplessness bubbled closer to the surface, making my magic crackle and jump without my direction. I hadn’t lost control like this since I’d taken my siblings’ powers so many eons ago.
I felt wild, out of control, and so damned fragile.
A scream built in my throat faster than I could hope to contain it.
Wind and winter mixed together behind me as I practically flew down the hallway, my feet barely touching the stone floor.
My vision tunneled, and I gasped for air as an unseen force constricted around my chest, forcing me to choose the closest room as refuge.
Not here, not here, I desperately chanted, but it seemed my time had run out.
I vaguely registered the sound of the door slamming behind me as the walls reverberated with my fury. With fuzzy vision and heart palpitations that sent me careening into the table I hadn’t seen, I grappled for purchase as my body shook, the tremors taking me to the floor.
If there was anyone else present for my meltdown, I was unaware, as an incessant ringing drowned any other outside sounds. Bonelessly, I sank to the floor and allowed the overwhelm to swallow me whole.
I am mortal. I can die. The thoughts ran constantly in my mind, growing progressively louder until they overlapped entirely.
A scream tore from my throat, the sharp sound cutting through the intrusive thoughts and hollow ringing until it enveloped me entirely. My skin itched and buzzed as I writhed on the ground, barely conscious and far from aware.
Pressure built on my back, pinning my chest to the ground and my arms to the sides.
It was cloying and unwanted, sending me further into the spiral of my own mortality.
I flung my body from side to side, trying to dislodge whatever had taken residence on my back, but the effort was completely futile.
I was mortal.
Mortal.
My scream died and turned abruptly into chest-wracking sobs as I came to terms with my new reality. Fists balled tightly, nails cutting deep enough into my palms to draw blood, I pounded relentlessly against the floor.
The unfairness of everything was unbearable—the thought that my own brother was the architect of my demise cut me deeper than I ever thought possible.
“Solace,” a voice, a man’s voice, whispered calmly into my ear, taking away the edge of my distress. “Breathe, Goddess.”
I followed his command, my chest heaving unevenly as breath rattled in my chest. Slowly, my vision brightened, my surroundings coming into sharp focus.
I felt the bite of the stone against my cheek and fists first, the pain more acute than I could ever recall.
Slowly, I uncurled my fists, mesmerized by the sight of warm, red blood dripping from my nails and sliced palms to pool beneath my arms on the floor.
The cold within was suddenly replaced by overwhelming heat, and the pressure against my back became too much to bear.
Sweat beaded against my forehead and back, sticking my clothes and hair to my body for a reason other than weather.
“Let go of me,” I rasped to the unknown male pressing his body against my own.
It had been centuries since I’d let someone, anyone, touch me in such a way, and the feeling of it now, as my world and well-laid plans crashed and burned around my feet, was too much.
A burning sensation took root in my skin, causing my stomach to rise in my throat as the male continued to stay firmly pressed against me.
“I. Said. Let go of me,” I hissed, putting as much venom and vitriol into my tone as possible.
Immediately, the man scrambled off my back, the warm air instantly cooling my overheated skin.
I dropped my forehead to the floor, greedily inhaling unobstructed breaths before pushing myself to a stand, trying to maintain some form of dignity and respect.
The door to the room flew open just as I was adjusting my dress, using a sharp gust of Air to dry it.
Unfortunately, nothing at my disposal could fix its tattered and stained state.
Not that I would want to, at the moment.
It was symbolic of my fight with the godling, a reminder that, despite the loss of my artifact, I still came out victorious.
Internally, I preened at the thought of the Goddess of Destruction lying in the graveyard of my descendants, her power slowly consuming her life force.
Maybe she won’t know how to control it, and she’ll kill herself. It would make my job infinitely easier.
It was the one thought that could maybe keep me sane and my plans somewhat viable. My victory fell flat as I realized how quickly the tides had turned this afternoon.
Just this morning, my victory seemed all but assured.
Now, now, the odds were much more even, the scales balanced once more.
“Goddess?” a hesitant female voice called into the space, and I swung my gaze to the speaker, pinning her with a glare.
Lady d’Hida frowned, her nose wrinkling slightly at my obviously disheveled state of distress.
“What is it, Lady d’Hida? Am I not up to your . . . expectations any longer?” I hissed, gesturing vaguely to my person while blood continued to ooze from my palms and down my fingers to drip audibly on the floor.
Without removing her gaze from me, yet never meeting my eyes, she shook her head once before repeating the action more emphatically.
“Goddess, we were concerned for your safety when we saw the cloud of ashes and embers rise from the Valley. Would you care to share with us what happened?” Razia’s silky smooth voice cut through the tension between Sasori and me, dragging my attention to the snake hiding slightly behind Sasori’s left shoulder.
He was still clad in the garish clothing of Lishahl, and I glared at the absolutely offensive doublet.
Razia followed my pointed gaze to his chest. Surreptitiously, he buttoned his furred black cloak, obscuring the garment from view. “Apologies, Goddess. I came straight from Lishahl with news of my own, but Lady d’Hida informed me that you were . . . elsewhere.”
My eyes flicked to Sasori briefly as I saw a look pass across her face before it was gone once more. There was something in Razia’s statement that Sasori didn’t agree with; it was something worth investigating further at a different time, especially if Razia was lying.
“The Valley has fallen,” I rasped. “Everyone but you three”—I pointed at Sasori, Razia, and the commander of Samyr’s army, who had restrained me during my episode—“out.” My command broke some unknown spell, spurring servants and sycophants alike into action.
They scurried from the room like the rats they were, the door closing with a loud thud behind them.
The white walls rattled with the force of the impact, and I was suddenly surrounded in silence.
“What happened to your hands, Goddess?” Razia asked, his beady eyes undoubtedly tracking each and every one of my wounds and faults.
I refused to answer, instead sweeping to the other side of the table where the commander had already pulled a chair out for me. I sank down with shaky legs, still trembling from my earlier . . . breakdown.
“Report,” I commanded, my tone cold and harsh once more.
“Ash has fallen across the city, blanketing nearly everything and causing some transportation issues,” Sasori began, her voice small and unsteady. “It could take weeks to—”
“Once my magic is replenished, I will clean the city.” I waved my hand jerkily. “That is the least of my concerns at the moment.”
“Indeed. It seems that you encountered some issues in the Valley?” Razia prodded.
My eyes flashed as I growled low in my chest. The man was insufferable, and I was beginning to wonder why I’d chosen to keep him around.
“My brother betrayed us. The female godling is now the Goddess of Destruction. In her naiveté, she attempted to kill me,” I bit out, leaving out the part about my mortality.
That would stay a secret long past their own terribly short lives.
“Alas, she failed and is currently . . . incapacitated in the Valley.”
A small, serpentine smile spread across Razia’s face. “Of course she did, Goddess,” he murmured.
“If she is currently indisposed, perhaps now would be the time to enter the Valley and capture her?” the commander intoned from my right.
I shook my head with a quick jerk.
“No. No one can enter while that cloud of magic covers the area. It, and she, is lost to us until then,” I admitted.
The commander grunted once in acknowledgement.
“Then we should move against the rebels. We have a general idea of their secondary location now. Preliminary reports also show that the second godling is no longer with the northernmost forces. Those loyal to our cause admitted to seeing him traveling south as recently as a week ago. It would be wise to attack them while both of the godlings are away.”
Sasori shifted on her feet, hands tucked behind her back, though I could see her muscles twitch as if she were twining her fingers together.
Interesting.
“I agree with the commander,” Razia smoothly interrupted. “We will also have the . . . support of the tribes in the Far North. Their . . . experiments have proven successful. If we wish to create Mages that can rival our enemies, we need to act quickly.”
The commander agreed with Razia, but I let their voices fade to a slight buzz as they leaned over the table, working together to articulate a plan of attack based on our current troop numbers and supply levels.
My eyes unbiddenly met Sasori’s over the men’s backs, and I narrowed my gaze as hers widened a fraction at the unintended eye contact.
I leaned my head against a propped fist, refusing to be the first to break our stares, and raised my eyebrows slightly as if to ask what she thought of this whole mess.
Her whiskey eyes widened slightly before she shook her head imperceptibly, black braid swishing against her armor.
Interesting—she clearly could read me better than the two more battle-hardened men at the table.
Or she has her own agenda. I pushed the errant thought away, refusing to believe that yet another person in my innermost circle could betray me.
“No,” I said, my voice cracking across the space, freezing Razia and the commander in their places.
“Sorry, Goddess?” Razia bit out, his tone carrying far more disrespect and frustration than I would normally tolerate.
Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for him, my powers were still woefully depleted, and I was tired—an exhaustion that was starting to seep deep within my bones. I needed to rest, rejuvenate. We desperately needed to reevaluate our strategy and not rush into a battle we couldn’t win.
“I said, no. Is that a word you’re unfamiliar with, Razia?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm. The man straightened from the table, clasping his hands in front of him as he bowed his head deferentially.
“Forgive me, Goddess. But now is the opportune time to attack. If we wait for even one of the godlings to return, who knows what—”
I held up one bloody palm, halting his diatribe.
“The answer is still no. Even if the godlings return to their camp, we’ll have the upper hand if we take time to meticulously train and plan. You can be assured they are doing the same, and it will be easier to kill them all if they’re in one spot rather than spread out across Elyria.”
Razia reluctantly inclined his head.
“Send for your contacts in the north. Tell them to bring the weapon that will win me this war. Once that has happened, then we can devise our battle strategy.”
My eyes met Sasori’s once more, and I found a flicker of relief in her irises.
How interesting.
I pushed my chair out with a squeal before rising slowly from its depths. My muscles and joints protested each movement, as if I’d aged significantly over the past few hours.
Sasori, Razia, and the commander bowed sharply as I swept through the room and out the door, the loss of the piece of my soul hidden in that artifact paining me with each step.