Chapter 16 #4
When the East Wind speaks, it is slow, stilted with shame. “You are probably right about that.” Then he swears. “I know it may not seem like it, but I am doing my best to protect her.”
My palm lifts to cover my heart, which skips a beat. It is the strangest thing, but I believe him.
“Maybe you are,” Demi concedes, “but what happens if you perish in the tournament? What will happen to Min then? You know the council will not allow her to stay.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. I intend to win.” His wings stir with a delicate clatter of scales beyond the bedroom door. “Tell Min to meet me at the arena following breakfast.” A beat of silence passes. “Please.”
“I will. And Eurus?” There is a pause. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
He responds, almost too quietly for me to hear, “I know.”
The door shuts, and I roll onto my back, staring up at the darkened ceiling.
I feel my pulse behind my eyelids, in the roots of my teeth.
The East Wind belongs to this darkness, and I’ve the maddening notion to burst through the door and call him back.
There is comfort in his presence. But there is a danger, too.
Because sometimes, I yearn for things I dare not name.
Soon, waves of tawny light paint the bedroom walls.
Forcing myself from bed, I shuffle into the main chamber to find Demi seated at her breakfast table, an impressive spread laid before her.
Today, she is dressed in velvet, gold trimming the sleeves and neckline.
“Good morning.” She gestures to the empty chair across from her. “Care to join me?”
I sit. The windows lie open. The curtains stir and birdsong twitters in the distance, the city sparkling like a jewel as the world wakens.
“How did you sleep?” she asks while slathering jam onto her bread.
“Well, actually.” The bed was both soft and spacious, a cloud to lay my head upon. “Thank you again for letting me stay here.” I pour milk into my tea and stir it with a small metal spoon. It clinks gently, a fragile chime.
“You’re welcome, but please don’t think it was only a one-time offer. You may stay here for as long as you need.”
My throat tightens. “Thank you, Demi. But I don’t want to intrude—”
“Min. Look at me.” I dutifully lift my eyes. Hers glitter like cut citrine. “I mean it. Stay here for as long as you need. I enjoy the company. How many can say they’ve shared both breakfast and lunch with a mortal?” She grins.
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m a goddess, am I not?” She gives a haughty sniff. “I’m always sure.”
My mouth quirks. I’m coming to learn Demi. For whatever reason, she is curious of mortals.
“How are you feeling about yesterday?” she asks.
I shrug, take a bite of the creamy eggs I’ve spooned onto my plate.
“I know what I must do.” Once the East Wind claims victory, I’ll be free.
The more I think about it, maybe he does deserve having his heart cut out by her ladyship for what he has put me through.
Except, the thought squeezes my lungs to the point of pain. Which doesn’t make any sense.
What is worse? My image of home has grown clouded.
Even if I am able to purchase the estate from her ladyship, would I have the means to build my own business, or would she run me into the ground before it had the chance to blossom?
Distance from Lady Clarisse has made me realize I am more relaxed than I was.
I do not flinch at every passing sound. But I have nowhere to go, no one else to lean on.
“These eggs are very good,” I tell Demi, smiling. Though I would expect nothing less from a goddess who knows her way around a kitchen. “What’s that spice I’m tasting?”
“Nutmeg,” she says, rather pleased. “It’s my secret ingredient. Things taste better with a little sweetness, don’t you think?”
For whatever reason, my thoughts wander briefly to Eurus. I immediately stamp them out.
Following breakfast, Demi and I head across the city toward the arena.
We merge with the outpouring of deities, spirits high and a hunger for blood sweeping like brushfire through the throng.
More than one god or goddess reaches out to pet my hair.
Demi slaps their hands aside with a growled, “Mind yourselves!”
By the time we reach the entrance, the announcements are already well under way. I struggle to hear over the jostling.
“… fifty are still in the running, but only twelve will face the third and final trial.”
The lightning god’s voice booms and crackles, erupting across the expanse. I strain my ears to catch the rest, only half aware of Demi elbowing people aside, one of her hands gripping my arm to prevent me from getting trampled by those in the corridor leading to the stands beyond.
“In this trial, your powers will be nullified.
That includes your godly strength and speed, your protective scales and feathered wings, your special talents, any and all enchantments.
This is to even the playing field. Your determination alone will decide who is strong enough to push through the pain and fatigue.
“In addition, the protections offered to you through your divine blood will be masked. By which I mean, death may find you at any point, and through various means, as it does for mortals. For many, it will not take long before your will crumbles. The question is, are you tenacious enough to reach the exit before it does?”
A roar quakes the bones of the arena. The ground trembles underfoot.
“In order to move on to the final round, both you and your teammate must pass through the door—”
“Min.”
I whirl, a hand pressed to my heart. The East Wind is a boulder amidst the current, braced and unwilling to yield. His newly patched cloak is borderline ragged in the harsh noon glare. “You st-startled me.”
When he doesn’t respond, I drop my hand. No matter the guilt that nags, I’ve nothing to apologize for. I did nothing wrong. He should be apologizing for treating me so disrespectfully.
But Eurus clears his throat and glances elsewhere. The crowd gives him a wide berth. “Nice weather,” he mutters.
My expression twists. “Absolutely,” I say. “A great day to die.”
Eurus snorts. My mouth twitches, but the smile falters. Why am I surprised by his unwillingness to discuss last night’s spat? I should not be so eager to expect change.
“Good luck out there,” I tell him, and I mean it, I do. He needs his revenge. I need the estate.
“Can I have a minute of your time?” he requests.
I look to Demi as someone elbows me in the back. The goddess shakes her head in irritation. “Will you be all right?” she asks me.
I nod. “I’ll come find you.”
With a final scowl of warning to the East Wind, Demi ventures down the corridor toward the stands. Once out of sight, his hood snaps toward me. “You need to come with me.”
“What?”
The horde thickens, forcing me into his chest. His arms wrap around my back; my palms land on his chest. When I attempt to retreat, I find my way blocked by the rambunctious crowd.
The East Wind loosens his arms, but doesn’t drop them completely. I am still sheltered for a while longer. “They informed us last night,” he explains. “We each require a teammate in the second trial. Otherwise, we forfeit.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re competing with me.”
My mind has frozen. His words skate over its surface. “That’s not funny,” I croak.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“I can’t go in th-there.” I spin around, but Demi has since vanished. “If you chose someone else—”
“I can’t trust anyone else!”
As he peers down at me, I’ve the absurd notion to cover my heart. I am too exposed beneath this immortal’s scrutiny. “It must be you, bird.”
A sudden wave of dizziness drags at me. I sway. “But—”
“We don’t have time,” he presses. “We need to get to the field before the trial begins.”
“Have you forgotten that I’m m-m-mortal?” I manage, each word a rumpled wheeze. “I’ll die!”
“You won’t.” In this, he is absolute. “I will not allow it.”
My throat stings with the rise of bile. I’m going to vomit. “How are y-you supposed to protect yourself and m-me at the same t-t-time?”
“Listen to me, bird.” Catching my jaw, he gently tilts it upward.
The roiling of my stomach settles as the press of his fingertips warms my chilled skin.
“Only twelve contestants move on to the third trial. We need to be in the top three. The higher we place, the more of an advantage we have in the final trial. Understood?”
I jerk free of his hold. His hand hangs there momentarily before dropping to his side, fingers still curled, as though preserving the shape of my face. “I’m not like y-you,” I say. “I’m not all powerful.”
“You have power, too, in your own way.”
And what power is that, exactly? The power to cower and hide? To sidestep, never facing anything head on? To continually lie to myself about who I am and what I want? The East Wind expects nothing short of a miracle. Whether by arrow or ax, sword or knife, I will surely fall.
“Don’t think about what people expect of you,” Eurus says. “Think of what you want—then claim it for yourself.”
“Competitors, please take your marks!”
I glance down. My poor, battered loafers. If I knew I’d be competing in the tournament, I’d have worn sturdier footwear.
“Please, bird… Min.” The East Wind’s voice deepens, becomes that sound I first heard through the steel door of his cell, an abrasive rasp that at times felt like a physical touch.
My belly quivers; my breasts peak. I hurriedly cross my arms over my chest, eyes wide at my reaction to his proximity.
“I need you. Not Demi, not anyone else. Just you.” He hesitates, then drags a fingertip down my right cheek.
“I have not forgotten my promise to return you home.”
Think of what you want—then claim it for yourself.
In this moment, I am not thinking of St. Laurent, or Lady Clarisse, or the estate, or Nan. I am looking at the East Wind, and I am thinking that he smells so acutely of the sea… and I am not afraid.
“I will help you,” I say.
No time to waste. Catching my hand, he drags me through a side door and down three flights of stairs. Two brawny immortals guard what I assume is one of the entrances onto the field. They look to Eurus, then to me. “This your teammate?” one asks.
“Yes.”
The guard snorts, but opens the door. Eurus drags me through, and we take our places along the perimeter of the field.
From this position, I realize how massive the arena truly is, a hundred thousand spectators screaming above, the air violently alive.
As for the field itself, in front of each competitor and their teammate, a shut door has appeared.
I assume we are to step through once given the signal.
From his seat amongst the Council of Gods, the lightning god lifts a hand. “Begin!”
The doors open. Fifty competitors lunge through the doorways, along with their partners. I glance down at where Eurus grips my hand—my only lifeline.
“Trust me,” he says.
I do not, yet what choice do I have?
Together, we step through.