15. Kiera
Chapter 15
Kiera
T he back of my head burns with awareness. There are more than a dozen eyes on me. Mortal Gods, Gods, and Terra alike all stare as I pass them through the corridors. Gone is the dark mark of my unique Terra uniform, and in its place are the long dusky skirts of a royal blue gown, one of Maeryn’s.
Why Maeryn’s? Because I don’t really have anything of my own and the Darkhavens decided that the pathetic excuse of a clothes collection I do own is unacceptable. For some reason, wearing this dress makes me feel more like their servant now than when I actually was.
“I’m surprised I don’t have to tell you to keep your eyes forward,” Ruen comments from my left.
I bite down on my lip and don’t respond immediately. When I woke up that morning, he was gone from the settee. I must have been truly exhausted if he managed to sneak out without waking me—or perhaps, my energy is still drained from the recent brimstone removal. There’s no telling, but I ignore the small voice in my mind that suggests maybe I don’t see Ruen as the betrayer he once was. That maybe … somewhere, deep down, I might trust him.
After a beat, I finally give him a response. “Why would you have to tell me that?” I ask without looking at him.
The answer to my question comes from my right. “Because everyone is staring at you and he expected you to glower back at them,” Theos says with a hint of amusement.
My response is a low hum in the back of my throat, but I do pause as we come to the mouth of a corridor and the open doorway of a familiar classroom. Divine History—one of the handful of classes I’d been informed I’d be required to attend on top of extra tutoring to help catch me up to the same level of education as the other Mortal Gods. The tutoring, however, has yet to start and I can only hope that Caedmon will be placed in charge of that as well.
“Where’s Kalix?” I ask curiously as the three of us enter the classroom to more open stares. It almost reminds me of one of the many auctions in the Underworld that Ophelia had brought Regis and me to in an effort to warn us what would happen if we disobeyed her—beyond torture, maiming, and death.
A blood servant who doesn’t listen to their master ends up at those horrible places. A shudder works through me at the memory, and it doesn’t take much effort to shove it back into its little dark box in the back of my mind and refocus on the present.
I sense rather than see the look Ruen and Theos exchange. I don’t know how—maybe being around them so much for the last few months has given me some sort of extra Darkhaven sense. They are a language and culture to themselves and understanding the way they work leaves me feeling like I’m learning a whole new species of Mortal God.
“He has another class,” Theos says as one of his hands finds the small of my back and he directs me up the steps to seats toward the back of the classroom.
“No, he doesn’t,” I reply evenly, repressing a snort.
The flash of golden white hair whips past my periphery as Theos turns his head sharply in my direction. “Yes, he—” Ruen begins, ready to back up his brother.
I glare at Ruen before cutting him off. “I’ve spent the last several months as your servant—trailing you to every class,” I remind him. “I think you forget that Terra aren’t actually invisible. Just because you didn’t acknowledge me but to order me around doesn’t mean I wasn’t there. I’ve got your schedules memorized by now and I know damn well, the three of you share this class.”
Ruen frowns. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he says quietly.
“Yes, you were.” Or rather, I suspect, he was trying to even if it was a poor showing.
Ruen opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say is silenced as Theos steps between us. “Kiera, don’t start this here. Let’s just take our seats and get you through your first day.”
I want to argue. The desire pounds at me, a strange need to unleash all of the sensations of the sudden upheaval of my life out on the man behind Theos. I don’t know why him of all people. Perhaps it’s because I’m still reminded of what he did—of the humiliation of being dragged before the entire school and whipped, something they all seem to have forgotten, thankfully. Or perhaps it’s because our conversation from the night before, and the odd sensations he brings to life within me, are still lingering, keeping me on edge and off kilter.
Instead of unleashing that frustration, though, I inhale a long breath and turn, striding up the steps to the very back of the classroom. At the very least, I’m hoping it’ll keep the stares to a minimum since I’m sure no God will appreciate attention anywhere else but on them. Gods are vain creatures after all and so fragile in their egos—just like the Darkhaven brothers.
I reach the final row of chairs and take a seat, soon followed by Ruen and Theos, who take up residence on either side of me. I grit my teeth and shuffle forward as Theos scoots behind me to take his seat as more students and their Terra enter the room.
The sight of the mortal servants of the Academy reminds me of something. “Now that I’m no longer a Terra, will the three of you get a new servant?” I ask curiously, turning my gaze to first Theos and then Ruen.
“No,” Ruen says, keeping his eyes pinned to the front of the room. The door at the front of the classroom opens and Narelle enters in a wash of robes and skirts, slamming the door as she strides across the open space before the students until she reaches the board. My body goes rigid as she casts a look up, freezing for a mere second when she spots me sitting.
I half expect her not to realize that my station at the Academy has changed and to say something, but she doesn’t. In fact, other than that single slip, she doesn’t even acknowledge my existence in the seats—forbidden, of course, to Terra—as she launches into her lesson.
A little over an hour later, my back is tight with tension and my head is throbbing. It isn’t until we’re leaving the classroom, however, that I notice something off with both Ruen and Theos. For the fourth or fifth time, one of them lifts their head and peers over the crowd of students as they leave the room and gather in the corridors.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, frowning as the throbbing in my temples increases.
Almost absently, Theos moves to my side and takes my arm, urging me to the side as several female Second Tiers pass by, their heads swiveling to stare at me as they do.
I grit back the urge to bare my teeth at them before I realize I don’t have to anymore. At least … I don’t think I do. I flip my gaze to Ruen as he steps in front of me and continues to scan the sea of students on their way to their next classes. “What Tier am I?” I ask suddenly.
Ruen jolts as if shocked and turns, blinking at me with a stunned expression. “What?”
“What Tier am I?” I repeat. When that still doesn’t elicit an answer, I sigh. “You and the other Darkhavens are First Tiers, right? Do I need to take a test to determine what Tier I am?—”
“First.” I’m so focused on Ruen’s face as I speak that when that answer comes, I’m confused because it’s spoken without his lips having moved to shape that one word.
I turn to Theos, but he shakes his head as if he already senses my question—or perhaps it’s written all over my face. When Theos jerks his chin to the right and I follow the silent urging, I realize Kalix is standing there between us and the crowd.
Ah, I realize. It wasn’t a what they were looking for, but a who. Him. Kalix.
“I’m a First Tier?” I clarify, frowning as Kalix begins to move towards us, cutting through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. The other students part, several nearly falling all over themselves to get out of his way as he moves. I don’t blame them. Kalix is so far from a normal person—Mortal God or otherwise—that there’s no telling his reactions to things that other people would consider normal. Who’s to say he wouldn’t straight up rip the head off someone who steps in his path, accidentally or not?
When Kalix smiles as he approaches, I nearly stumble in my own surprise as the others nudge me forward to meet him. The picture of Kalix’s expression far more confusing than anything he could’ve said. When he smiles, he almost looks … normal.
It’s a mask, that’s for damn sure. My body still remembers how he’d nearly drowned me when he fucked me in the Terra baths. A shiver skids down my spine as if recalling that memory has my senses reacting on instinct.
Kalix’s lips widen as if he scents the sudden wetness that I’m almost half ashamed of soaking the place between my thighs. His teeth appear sharper for all of a second before he stops before the three of us and answers my question that he obviously heard over the crowd’s low hum. “Your Tier will be determined during the ceremony at the Spring Equinox,” he states. “But if any of us would guess, we’d say you’ll likely be a First Tier. Few Mortal Gods can wield as much power over familiars as we’ve seen you do.”
“But you?—”
“First. Tier.” Kalix repeats the words with that grin of his.
Right. He’s a First Tier and I have to admit, he’s right. In the months I’ve been at the Academy, I haven’t seen many other Mortal Gods openly use familiars, and the ones I had seen were considered First Tiers as well.
“Don’t forget that you were also able to wield at least some of your powers even with a sliver of brimstone in your neck.” Ruen’s voice lowers as he dips his head closer to the side of my face. His nearness as well as the warm breath he sends over the shell of my ear reawakens that odd emotion that flutters in my lower belly.
I’m pulling away from him before I even realize I’m doing it. I recognize the action for what it is—self-preservation. “Why is that so shocking?” I ask, trying not to sound as breathless as I feel.
Three sets of eyes spear me. “Not here,” Ruen finally answers. He nods somewhere over Kalix’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about it later, but for now, we should head to our next class.”
I must make a face because when Theos looks at me, he snorts out a laugh before casually moving closer and slinging an arm around both of my shoulders. “Oh, don’t be like that, Dea ,” he says jovially. “You’ll like the next one—it’s battle practice.”
Battle practice? Oh shit. Shock slams into me along with a new realization. The Battles.
Now that I’m a Mortal God out in the open, I, too, will be expected to fight in them if I’m called. Theos’ hand tightens on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “With your … previous training” —he lowers his voice at that before returning to a normal tone—“and all that we’ll teach you, we’ll make sure that you’re in fighting shape before they announce the next rounds.”
I shrug his hand off before shooting him a scathing glare. “If anything, Theos,” I reply, “you should be worried about yourself and your fellow Mortal Gods.”
Though I never expected it, now that I no longer have to hide my skills or who I am, I’m more than ready to show these men what my ‘previous training’ taught me.
Theos grins. “I look forward to kicking your ass,” he says.
I smile sweetly back at him, showing him my teeth. “That’s if you can touch it,” I reply.
Golden eyes glitter brightly. “Is that a challenge I hear, Dea? ”
I move closer to him, lifting my hand to his chest. Sparks dance beneath my fingertips and something sharp and painful jumps beneath the touch. Yellow glowing tendrils of lightning waft off the edges of Theos’ hair. Dangerous. Oh, so fucking dangerous. And addictive.
“That’s exactly what it is,” I tell him honestly. “I want to see what you can do, pretty boy.”
His head dips towards my own and his tongue comes out to swipe across his full lower lip. My eyes lock onto that little action, my throat going dry. “What do I get if I win?” His question is whispered so low that I almost don’t hear it despite how close we’re standing.
It takes me a moment to respond. “What do you want?”
Cool air slides over my shoulder from behind, lifting one strand of my hair and fluttering it towards my face. Theos reaches up and captures it between two fingers. Instead of tucking it back over my shoulder or ear as I expect, though, he lifts it to his lips, pressing the silvery lock against his mouth. Memories of that mouth on other parts of my body attack my mind. My muscles ache deliciously at the reminder.
“A boon,” he finally says.
I blink. “A boon?” I repeat.
He grins and releases my hair. “Yes,” he affirms. “You win and I will offer you a boon and if I win, you offer me one.”
“And I assume this boon will be like a favor or…” I drift off as he begins to shake his head. “Then what do you?—”
“It can be a favor,” Theos states. “Or it can be a benefit. Perhaps that boon will be to have you in my bed instead of Ruen’s.”
I roll my eyes and take a step away from him, turning to go. “Sure, then,” I toss my answer over my shoulder. “I don’t expect that to happen, but if that’s what you wish—it makes no difference to me.”
I stride towards the end of the now nearly empty corridor—all of the students having moved on to their next courses—and pause to look back. “I’m going to get changed and I’ll meet you at battle practice soon, boys,” I announce before offering them a grin. “I look forward to wiping the sand with your asses.”
When I turn to leave this time, the responding burst of laughter at my back carries a twisted sort of promise with it. Whether this challenge is our way of forgetting the other issues plaguing us or inciting a closer connection, I have a feeling that now that I’m officially a Mortal God, my relationship with the Darkhaven brothers has taken a new course through uncharted waters.
No matter what happens in the future, we are bound together on this ship. If it goes down, we all do.