18. Kyzen #2
“That won’t happen again, and that solves any power loss Doren might have,” Amick says, taking back control of the conversation.
“Second issue is, once we figure out how we’re getting him out of the Abandon, we decide the official day and time.
Our last trip to the heart of the Abandon was in the dead of night. That won’t be the case this time.”
“The Beginning Gods meet at the Neutral daily anyways, correct?” Gladian asks, glancing at Meridamus.
“Yes.”
“So then we already know they’ll all be in the same location,” Gladian continues. “We ask Derivius to cause some sort of distraction. He is the God of Chaos, so I’m sure he can figure out a way to buy us a couple of hours.”
Multiple murmurs of agreement and disagreement float across the table. Everyone has an opinion about how much time we’ll really need. Will Kira give a fuck about what Derivius has to say or do?
I listen, but my attention stays on the two Beginning Gods who are only paying attention to each other. They’re either communicating in their minds so we can’t hear them, or their looks speak for themselves.
Val catches me staring, but I don’t bother facing away. The wrinkles in his forehead smooth out as he tightens his lips. My stomach cramps and I subtly shake my head at him. He graces me with a small fucking smile and one dip of his head.
Shit.
“Derivius won’t need to cause a distraction,” he says. “My presence will be enough.”
Silence slashes through the Court so abruptly my ears ring. The sudden squeeze across my chest has me struggling to draw in a breath.
“No.”
Val offers Thayla the same smile he just gave me and her fingers put mine in a death grip as she glares at him like he’s lost his mind.
“It’s all right. It’s time,” he says and she shakes her head.
“It absolutely is not.”
“Thayla—”
“I said no.” She points directly at him, not willing to back down. “The moment Obliteration learns you’re back, everything changes.”
“Eventually, he will learn regardless.”
“Then let’s keep eventually as far away as possible.” Her frustration sharpens as she releases her grip on me and throws her hands in the air. “He could attack you at the Neutral the second he sees you.”
“He could.”
“If he doesn’t, he could follow you back here and march on the Godsdawn.”
“He could.”
“Or he could lose his fucking mind and attack one of the lower regions. Again.”
“He could.”
Her fists slam against the table as his calm agreement finally drives her past the point of pissed.
“Stop fucking doing that,” she barks. “Why are you handing him these opportunities?”
His face never betrays anything but patience for her and I swear that makes this worse. Her soul is going absolutely fucking feral in my chest. Not only mine. Creed and Amick look damn desperate to crawl across the table to her.
“Because you need time in the Abandon. You need room for error and surprises. I want to choose when he learns that I’ve returned rather than allow him to discover it on his own. This solves both those issues.”
The Court falls quiet again.
Damn. That was a good answer.
Judging by the expressions around the table, everyone else thinks so too. Thayla does not.
Unfortunately, though, it becomes very clear she doesn’t have a counterargument for that. Even if other options are running through her mind—scenarios of what Derivius could do to cause a scene, none of those would work as well as this.
The realization settles over her slowly.
A deep exhale falls from her chest, and the longer it lasts, the more the grip on my soul eases. She stands back straight, and the blank stare that erases her concerned features has my brothers and me sharing a look with each other.
That’s not acceptance. It’s resignation.
“Fine,” she mumbles. “When? What’s our timeline?”
The first fracture in his sure face cracks as she glances at him like she doesn’t even see him. He blinks away his uncertainty quickly enough, though.
“I told you I’d have you ready in seven days, and I will. You’ll leave day eight.”
Fuck. That’s not at all what I thought he was going to say.
The weight of his declaration settles across the table for a fleeting second. Then everyone has their own two cents to put in.
Thayla tolerates the bombardment of noise for a millisecond.
“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “You all heard him. We leave in four days. Sevryn, grab a sword.”
She marches from the table without a backward glance. There’s no doubt she feels our eyes on her, though.
“Thanks a lot,” Sevryn grunts, glaring at Val. “Getting my ass beat was exactly how I wanted my night to go.”
“Better you than me,” Mara mumbles.
He scoffs before leaning down and laying a kiss on Yemi’s forehead. She gives him a tender, appreciative smile, holding on to his fingers for as long as she can.
“Well,” Amick says. “Minor details can be worked out later. Lambrit, Rose, and Havar, if you all wouldn’t mind helping me organize this and getting the table put away. Everyone else, pair up and get to training.”
Mara grips Yemi the moment Gladian’s eyes shift to her, and the pinched frown on his face almost makes me laugh.
“Come, God of Strength. I’ll dance around with you,” Meridamus says, and Gladian’s eyes narrow.
There’s no doubt the last being he wants to spar with is the father of his previous—fake—Valtrue member.
Creed smirks at Barir as he tosses him a sword. By the look on the God of Treachery’s face, he’s been looking for an opportunity to take a swing at Death.
Good fucking luck.
Riven giggles something to Vullie about blowing something up, and the two of them skip off into la-la-land together.
Surprisingly, Iric passes Prath a sword.
I suppose it isn’t so shocking, seeing as they’ll be working closely together in the near future.
Iric’s interest in his power was obvious from the second he found out who he was.
If for no other reason than to reinvent the imitation rooms, he’ll make a friend out of him.
Doren and Nero glance at one another, more than pleased to be paired.
I sit back and watch every grouping get into their positions.
Thayla and Sevryn didn’t bother stretching like everyone else. Their swords crack against one another in brutal strikes. She attacks. He blocks. Then the cycle repeats itself.
A smile tugs at my lips as she cusses him out for everything he’s worth when he asks her if that’s all she’s got. People who’ve never watched her in battle or seen her train probably think she’s ruthless and reckless.
She’s not.
Impatient? Absolutely.
Stubborn? Without question.
Ruthless? Only when necessary.
But reckless? Never.
Every strike she throws has purpose behind it. Every adjustment is deliberate. She calculates her opponent’s next five moves. She knows what they’re going to do even before they do.
The problem for her is that Sevryn knows exactly how she fights. Which means every vicious swing is met by one of his own.
It drives her fucking mad. She’ll still come out on top eventually.
“Do you plan on training today or just observing?”
I peer at Val as he makes himself comfortable nearly shoulder to shoulder with me, holding his own training sword down by his side.
“I had rotation in the Court this morning,” I say, focusing back on the others.
“So did nearly everyone else, but they’re still training.”
A sigh escapes me. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know what I’m capable of. You know I don’t need to train like everyone else.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “I just thought you might like to train with someone closer to your skill set.”
“And have my Binder mad at me for accidentally hurting you before you can finish training her and her power? No, thanks.”
He laughs, not taking offence to my cockiness whatsoever, and my lips twitch.
“I fear she might laugh rather than be concerned,” he says.
“Possibly,” I agree, then lower my voice. “Trying to buddy up to me isn’t going to make her any less angry with you.”
“I’m aware.” He sighs. “That isn’t my intention anyway. I’m simply bored and Meridamus has found himself a new toy to taunt tonight.”
I snort when my gaze travels over to where he and Gladian are going at it. The God of Strength has a fierce scowl across his face, whereas Meridamus is smiling like he’s having the time of his life.
“Come,” Val says, nudging me. “Beginning God’s order.”
I scoff at him and the teasing smile on his face as he takes a few steps away. Regardless, I adjust the sword in my hand.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Are you?”
My brow arches and his mouth twitches.
My power flows from my skin the second he charges forward. His steps slow, while mine speed up. I round on him, raising my sword.
Then…a very uncomfortable sensation slides down my back.
Val spins on his heel, blocking my swing before it can land.
My eyes widen.
“You blocked my power.”
“No,” he says as he bursts forward in a series of strikes.
Our wood continues to collide as our swift footsteps kick up dirt.
“You, my daughter, most everyone uses the same verbiage. It’s wrong. I don’t block, stop, or hide anything.”
I send my power out once again as he draws his shoulder back. His movements slow for a fleeting second before he catches back up.
The realization hits me.
“You’re separating me from my power.”
He smirks.
We attack with abandon. Each strike is met with equal force and strength. For a moment, I don’t summon my power as I let my muscle memory do its thing and contemplate what he doesn’t say but is obviously doing.
Every time I reach for my Domain, something feels…off. It’s not absent or blocked, but farther away than it should be.
Our swords collide again, and the impact rattles through my arm. I twist away from his next strike and let my awareness drift toward the familiar sensation of my power in my mind.
Immediately, I feel the resistance. The disconnect between us. Yet I still feel time. If he had truly separated me from it, then I shouldn’t be able to feel it at all.
My grip tightens around my sword’s hilt as my eyes narrow.
He can separate me from my Domain, but he can’t truly separate time.