THE SKY IS CRYING #3
“Any words of advice, as her formal general?” Even though he had no form, I knew he shot me a death glare from wherever he was perched above. I couldn’t help but grin. “Too soon?”
“Unfortunately,” he mocked in a half-hearted growl. “But I will say this, if she is here, she is weak. Whatever means she used to get herself here would have been at the expense of many others. And it would have cost her too.”
“She bypassed our shields like it was nothing.”
“Well, she is still a goddess. Whatever power remains within her will be greater than any you know of in this world.”
“I have no doubt she’s already made herself known, or perhaps even joined forces with Lyceius.”
“Which does not bode well for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “No shit.”
He chuckled. “Send your shifter into Salterra once more. See what he can glean. If you know how Skadi or Lyceius plan to operate, you can put the necessary precautions in place.”
“And how do we rid ourselves of this new goddess?”
He paused. When he answered, his voice was solemn once more. “You and I are the only ones in direct relation to her.”
The reason for his solemnity suddenly struck me. A god could only be vanquished by the hand of one who was of their blood, but not a god, a stipulation of divine law that made it damn near impossible for a god to die. And as Aremis had said, power that is bestowed is just as good as blood.
“One of us would have to be the one to kill her . . .” I concluded.
“It cannot be you,” Eathril said firmly. “I won’t let you suffer that fate.”
“But, if you kill her . . . you would ascend to take her place.”
Eathril remained quiet for a moment before answering. “I suppose it’s only fitting, considering what I’ve done . . . A way to clear my conscience. Though, I have no desire to step into those shoes.”
I did not want to lose him to that fate either. “I don’t think I could ask it of you anyway.” I let my head fall back against the tree. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll send Folquin into Salterra. See what information we can gather.”
“Mmm, yes. That is a good place to start. Might I offer an additional suggestion?”
I gave a wave of my hand.
“Skadi is here for her father’s power. If she came to Calledan, that means she can sense the power within you, which also means she expects you to have the amulet.”
“Except I don’t.”
“Right. But she doesn’t know that.”
I lifted a curious brow. “Go on.”
“I’m assuming you plan to offer terms before the war?”
“Auren will want to.” The only thing I wanted to do was obliterate our enemies once and for all, terms be damned.
“Then, might I suggest you create a decoy of the amulet? If things go wrong, or negotiations go south, a decoy could buy us time, or provide a path for the kill. Regardless, Skadi will demand it if it comes to negotiations, and without one to give, I’m afraid there will be no acceptance of any terms.”
Eathril was a genius.
“You sure you want to remain an interrogator for the rest of your life? A spot on my council seems better suited for you.”
His laugh echoed through the trees. “I am quite content with the station I’ve been given, Lord. But you have my thanks for the thoughtful consideration.”
“I could force it upon you,” I said, flicking the sword and sending raindrops jittering along its edge.
“I suppose you could, but I trust that even with that dark power in your veins, you would choose to be merciful.”
“I’d like to know when I became so merciful in your eyes?”
He sighed, but spoke with what sounded like a proud smile. “Deep down, I know who you truly are.”
I chuckled. “Good. Should I ever forget it, you and Auren had better remind me.”
“Of course.”
He knew me. Knew where my power came from and what it entailed.
But he didn’t know about Benmoor. About the rage.
I’d become so good at upholding my facade that I could fool anyone into thinking I was fine, but the control I had worked so hard to maintain was slowly slipping, little by little.
Should it ever come to an intervention, it would be up to Auren or Eathril to bring me back from the edge, given what they knew of my power, and what was at stake.
Biting back the obtrusive thoughts, I posed another question to Eathril. “Just out of curiosity, who is the third ‘friend’ of yours?”
“Your mate. She wanted to be my friend. We settled on ‘allies’ at the time, but I still hold her offer dear to my heart, and will accept it fully the next time I see her.”
I grinned to myself. Of course Auren would try to make friends with a shadow entity that had no form.
“And . . .” he continued, “I would like to think you are a friend, considering you now know my story, and you have not threatened to exile me because of it.”
I let out a long sigh. “Eathril, you and I are more alike than you think. And that is one thing friends can count on each other for. They know each other’s story, the worst fucking parts of it, down to its very core, and they don’t judge them for it.”
He was quiet for a long moment before he finally said, “I watched what Erebus’s power did to Evander. But that story does not have to be yours.”
I worked my jaw, swallowing the words I truly wanted to say in response.
I had control.
Had.
If control were a leash, the tethers had frayed in that dungeon cell, so much so, that it felt like there were only a few strands holding me together.
I was doing a good job at hiding it, but I didn’t want to live my life hiding.
And the more I fought it, the more the power seemed to bite back with a vengeance.
Something had to give.
I glanced up, taking in the sight of the rain around me, the puddles that were building beneath the tree roots, the leaves that shook under the weight of each drop—each tear that fell from above.
Perhaps it wasn’t the sky that was crying, as Eathril had said.
Perhaps it was the gods.