Chapter 24
“WHAT!” I SHRIEK.
Slumped against the opposite wall, Eurus frowns, face pinched into a grid of nerves and fraught trepidation. He shifts position with a wince of pain, the tips of his wings splayed across the ground. “I thought you knew.”
“No! I—How was I supposed to know that?”
“She was at the welcome banquet.”
“So was every other immortal participating in the tournament.” Except—the very first trial.
Twelve seats for the Council of Gods, yet two had been empty.
When I asked Demi about the two missing council members, she offered an explanation for one of the empty seats, but not the other.
And the reason why Eurus wanted nothing to do with her? It could not have been clearer.
“By the Mother,” I mutter. Look with your eyes, Min. See what is right under your very nose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you knew I was planning to end her life,” Eurus says, “I feared you would let slip about my plan.”
Maybe I would have. Then again, maybe not.
“At first, I did not want you speaking with her because of her involvement with the council. But as time went on, I saw the advantage in it. Demi knows the competitors, and she devised the trials alongside the other council members. I thought she might let her guard down with you and hint at what lay ahead. Once I saw that you were becoming close… well, how could I tell you that I planned to kill her? You would never have given me Eastern Blood. And I didn’t want to take that friendship from you, truthfully.
You deserve a friend, Min. Even if I wanted nothing to do with her. ”
I shake my head, turn to glare at the stone underfoot, as if it might provide me guidance.
Forgiveness is like the softened body of a clam.
To reach it, its armor must be pried back.
But he kept this information from me. Information that may have influenced my actions in the goddess’ presence.
I could have better protected myself against the divine.
“Regardless of your motives, you should have told me,” I say.
He nods, then drops his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Trust requires effort from b-both parties. If you want me to trust you, then you need to be honest with me.” As for Demi, she probably assumed I knew of her title.
“I know, bird.” He hangs his head. “It is hard for me to trust others, but it is no excuse for the hurt I have caused you. I was wrong. You are trustworthy. You have proven your commitment to this task, and for that, I am indebted to you.”
His gaze is heartfelt, open. I fear he sees the deception in my heart. Trustworthy. What a beautiful lie I have spun.
All this time, I have been in contact with Lady Clarisse, yet he hasn’t a clue.
That all-consuming rage spurred me to send my most recent message through the Courier.
What will happen when I return home? Will her ladyship be lying in wait, a fox in the brush?
The notion floods my stomach with an awful dread.
The East Wind will die should Lady Clarisse get her hands on him.
Do I confess and risk abandonment? I will not survive this trial without him. If I were to tell him now, it might cause him to lose focus, which could be to both of our detriment. If I tell him after, though… What if he returns to St. Laurent and destroys all that I hold dear?
I shiver, my focus shifting to the deepening chill. Soon, night will shed its dusky skin.
Noticing my discomfort, the East Wind climbs to his feet. He sways, and my apprehension threatens to spill from the container in which it is bound. Without the antidote, Gray Snare will continue to weaken him. It has likely crippled his powers, too. “I’m going to gather wood for a fire. Stay here.”
“Wait!” I grab his arm. “Won’t the light attract the competition?”
“We need to get warm, bird.”
“I’ll survive.” I would rather take my chances against the cold—a peril I understand—than whatever deities lurk beyond sight.
One of his eyebrows arches high. “And what of me? You said this poison would lead to hypothermic shock.”
I wince. He is right. A fire will help ward off the imminent chill. “Perhaps it is worth the risk.”
He searches my gaze before disentangling himself. “I’ll be back shortly.”
I watch his form blur, then vanish into the surrounding forest.
Knees drawn against my chest, I shiver, teeth chattering as I await his return. The forest is alive, steeped in darkness. Any subtle crack or rustle draws my body bowstring-tight.
Footsteps. I tense, but it is only Eurus, bearing an armful of sticks. He catches himself against the wall, his body trembling with the ice beginning to eat at his veins.
“Let me,” I say, taking some of the load from his arms and gently guiding him toward the ground. As he arranges the sticks in a pile, I point to a small plant resting at his feet. “What is that?”
Eurus cups his hands over his mouth to warm them. “You mean you don’t recognize it?” he asks in surprise.
I shake my head. Whatever this pink-budded plant is, it does not grow in the mortal realms.
“I know something about plants that you don’t.
” He seems absurdly pleased with himself.
I glare until he laughs and crushes the leaves inside his fist. “I wish I could say I knew the name of this specimen, but I don’t.
My brother, Zephyrus, told me about it when we were young.
If you clamp it inside your palm, the leaves release a flammable oil that can be applied to kindling.
Then, I shove my power through my fist so it heats to a spark…
” Eurus’ expression slides out of focus as an acrid scent uncurls.
With a hiss, he drops the leaves—now alight—onto the pile of wood.
The East Wind droops beside me, out of breath. My trepidation grows, threatening the bounds of my skin. Gray Snare works quickly, but I fear he needs rest, as do I. And how are we to navigate the darkened wood?
“Does Demi suspect foul play?” I ask him.
“Doubtful.” He dabs at the sweat slipping down his neck. “I’ve told her nothing about your skillset.”
But I did. I wince. “And you still feel certain this is the right choice?” I press him. “Killing the council?”
“I do.”
Then he has not changed. And I have wasted precious energy attempting to forge silver into gold. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can. But whether I answer depends on if I like the question or not.”
With a gentle nudge, he bids me shift closer, and I do. Our thighs brush. When his eyes slip to my mouth, I press my lips taut, fighting the urge to throw myself into his lap. “Do you think it will have been worth it, to kill the council after all is said and done?”
“You don’t understand,” he says, and the fire is in his eyes, pooling straight down to the bottom of his black pupils. “The council as an establishment has done too much harm to me, and to others. I have to do this.”
“Why? Why do you have to do this? You cannot change the fact that you were banished, or neglected. I truly think that if you were to forgive—”
“I won’t forgive them,” he growls. “I will never forgive them.”
What Eurus voices is his truth, but he cannot see beyond the boundaries of himself.
“Do you feel this?” I capture his hand, place it over his heart.
“That is your heart, which beats only for you. You are safe. Your father cannot touch you. The council cannot take you from your home, not truly.” I tighten my grip.
“You will always carry the scars of your past. But you have the power to decide whether you allow them to hurt, or heal.”
There is a snap of dry wood, sharp like a broken bone. Eurus appears moments away from charging out into the darkness. That must mean I have hit a particularly deep wound.
“I only say this because I know what you feel,” I tell him. “For so long, I let Lady Clarisse’s actions define me, hurt me, make me feel worthless—”
“You’re not worthless, bird.”
“I know that now. And neither are you.” I brush the damp strands from his forehead, grazing the area of scarring where his hairline has receded.
“What if, when the time comes to poison the council, you decide you will no longer allow your past to hold sway over you? What if,” I say, “you could start anew?”
He tosses a stick onto the fire, its warmth having gradually filled the cave to thaw my stiff limbs. “I’m not sure if that’s possible for people like me,” he says.
“People like you?”
“Irredeemable.”
My heart aches for him. How could I have gone so long without truly seeing the depths of the East Wind’s self-loathing?
“It is,” I assure him. “It absolutely is.” Seeing the doubt there, I continue to push. “You have come so far already. I look at you, the god who stole me from my home, but who I have grown to care for—”
His head snaps up. The blacks of his eyes are large enough to fall into, and fall into them I do.
As his slow, salt-tinged exhalation mingles with mine, his breath slips into my parted mouth.
The scent of his skin once threatened to drag me back under the black waves of memory.
Now? I do not think it would be so terrible a thing, to drown.
Softly, the East Wind murmurs, “How would I go about doing that?”
“You give yourself compassion,” I whisper. “You acknowledge you did the best that you could. You commit to loving yourself wholeheartedly. You do not allow those deceitful thoughts to take over. You see yourself as others see you.” I swallow, force out the rest. “As I see you.”
A gentleness blurs the harder lines bracketing his mouth. It becomes a fire-bright warmth, a yearning. “And how do you see me, bird?”