Chapter 71
No. No, I can’t accept it. I won’t accept it.
All the people we’ve lost, all those actually deserving of this gift, and she’s here? The person who has disregarded the very thing the Goddess of Life stands for at every turn? It’s absurd.
It’s as though my heart has been wrenched from my chest, the pain of losing to Zara clamping around my lungs. I would accept losing to anyone else. Literally anyone else.
‘You got here first …’ The words stumble on my tongue.
‘How very observant of you.’ Zara is grinning from ear to ear.
It’s not her normal smirk; it’s an actual grin, though it’s still laced with her usual malevolence.
‘What is it they call second place? Oh yes, first loser. How apt. You know, I always thought my brother would be at my side to see me win this, but at least I get the joy of you watching me receive my gift before I kill you.’
She’s not joking. Of course she’s not.
I try to block her out. Maybe the fact that she’s here, that she’s won, will be enough to end the trial. Perhaps I’ll be sent back to wherever the magic chooses. I still expect her to come after me, of course, but at least that way I’ll have a head start.
With her upper lip still curled in a snarl, she goes to say something more, but it is the Goddess who speaks instead.
‘Welcome, child.’
The hairs rise on the back of my neck, and I know without a shred of doubt that she’s talking solely to me. My knees buckle as though they’ve surrendered every ounce of their strength to her.
How I could ever have mistaken this figure for Dinah is a mystery.
The air around the Goddess’s body shimmers ever so subtly, and the depths of her pupils surpass any mortal man’s or beast’s.
If I needed any more proof, it comes from her voice.
It’s an octave lower than the woman I know and lilting with an accent lost to time.
As I look at the deity encased in my friend’s form, the Goddess tilts her head slightly to one side. The gesture reminds me of an owl, so much so that I half expect to see wings unfurl from her sides.
‘Are you both ready?’ she asks, straightening her neck.
‘Ready?’ Zara asks the same question that’s on my tongue. ‘What do you mean? I got here first. I’ve won.’
A flicker of a smile teases the Goddess’s lips. ‘The trial has not yet been completed.’
My heart leaps in my chest with such force that my entire body jolts. It’s not over. Hope roars in my ears.
‘No!’ Zara slams her sword down against the stone like a petulant child mid-tantrum. Her face is red with fury. ‘I was here first. I reached you first. That is the condition. I win the gifting.’
A flicker of anger flashes in the Goddess’s eyes and Zara’s redness pales.
A moment of silence swims around the cavern and then, without a clear reason why, both the deity’s expression and the Rettling’s objection are gone. It’s almost as though an exchange has happened between the pair that I wasn’t privy to.
‘You were the first to arrive.’ The voice that is not Dinah’s echoes around us. ‘I will agree to that. But that is all. Do you know why it’s called a gifting? Why it is not a prize?’
‘Because it is a gift from you alone, Great Goddess.’ Zara’s response makes me want to laugh. So now she remembers the need for deference? I wonder what she’ll choose if she wins. A power to rival the Gods, perhaps? It wouldn’t be beyond her arrogance.
‘Gifts are given,’ the Goddess continues, as though Zara never spoke. ‘This one, to a person of my choosing. And I have not yet decided to whom I will gift it.’
That jolt hits my chest again, combined with a sharp spike in my pulse. That’s twice she’s said it now. Twice she’s said it’s not over.
‘There’s still a chance,’ I breathe to myself. There’s still a chance.
‘Yes,’ the Goddess says, turning to me, ‘there is.’
She can read my thoughts. While not entirely unexpected – it explains why Zara suddenly went quiet earlier – it’s still fucking scary.
I try as hard as I can to empty my mind, but it’s not exactly easy. Thankfully, the moment she starts talking again, I have more important things to focus on.
‘First, I must start by asking one thing of you.’ That deep tone rumbles through me. ‘Your answer will determine whether or not you may continue to fight for the gifting.’
A final challenge. A fight? Was that word a deliberate choice? Gods, I hope not. If Zara brings back all the pain I was in after the kraken – pain that could only be muted by paparvy seeds – I might as well offer myself up to her now.
‘Of course,’ Zara replies instantly. Her grin is back in play. ‘Whatever you want. Whatever it is, I will beat her.’
She shoots me a glare before turning back to the Goddess who steps forward. My skin prickles and it feels as though her entire attention is solely on me. And yet from the way Zara has stiffened, I expect she feels the same.
‘I must ask you to relinquish any powers you have to me.’
‘What?’ Zara’s eyes widen in an unspoken objection.
‘Are you refusing?’
I glance down at my feet. How the Goddess hasn’t killed Zara yet is beyond me.
She has the patience of a saint. But I guess she knows more than I do.
Especially if she can read our thoughts.
Maybe the Rowell Rettling just keeps all the nice things in her head and speaks the rest. I doubt it, but who knows.
‘No, no,’ Zara replies hurriedly. ‘But what will happen when I win the gifting? Will it be returned to me, along with my gift?’
Again that wistful smile floats across the Goddess’s expression.
‘If you win’—her stress on the first word causes a flutter of gratitude within me—‘all of your powers will be returned to you, along with the gift you have requested.’
‘And if we lose?’ I ask.
‘Then you leave here powerless. Assuming the other allows you to live.’
That’s a no-brainer. Of course Zara’s not going to let me leave. Still, it doesn’t change my answer.
‘You can take my powers,’ I say. ‘They’re yours.’
Zara huffs behind me. ‘She’s got fuck-all to give.’ She eyes me. ‘Though how a slum rat managed to afford a fire bead and an ice bead is beyond me.’ A frown creases her forehead.
The Goddess ignores her. ‘Rose Kultavaris will cede her magic to me. Do you acquiesce to my request to do the same?’
Zara gapes. Though whether it’s at the possibility that I have magic or the Goddess’s use of big words that confuses her, it’s impossible to tell.
Still, she exhales and looks at the Goddess. ‘Yes. Take mine too.’
The instant the Goddess inhales, I brace myself for the pain. But it does nothing, and a scream runs through every line of my body as the magic I recently gained is ripped away, a burning agony filling me as my very essence is pulled apart.
Next to me, Zara screams out loud. Having never been stripped before, she couldn’t have known how much it would hurt.
When it’s over, Zara’s red hair has been stripped to white-blonde. She matches me now. A fellow outcast.
I once dreamed of all my enemies being stripped like me, yet now that the moment has come, I’m surprised to find no satisfaction, only weariness.
Magic or not, nothing will change between us.
There will be no kinship, no bonding over a shared pain.
At this point, I’m pretty sure Zara has no empathy left, if she ever had any to begin with.
I watch her raise her hand, clearly trying to draw the pulse of magic to her palms. When her hand drops and a tear leaks down her cheek, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Then I picture Grenda, and any burgeoning sympathy dies.
‘Very good.’ The Goddess’s chest rises and falls. ‘Now we must wait.’ With that, she closes her eyes.
Standing in such a manner, she looks even more like Dinah than she did with her eyes open, and I can’t help but wonder whether my friend is still there, present within herself and watching this whole debacle.
A chill sweeps through me as I wonder whether the honour of allowing the Goddess to possess you is something that can only occur once. Will Dinah’s life leave when the Goddess does? I pray she wouldn’t be so cruel to one of her own priestesses.
As the minutes tick by, I find myself desperate to know who or what we’re waiting for, and from the way Zara is fiddling with her furs, she is too. But the Goddess says nothing.
In the silence, I take the time to observe my competitor a little closer, like Benny would.
Zara is standing with her back propped against the wall.
Like me, her arms are covered in scrapes and scratches, but there’s also a long tear on the left leg of her trousers, which are soaked through with blood.
Maybe she caught her leg on one of the jagged rock edges in the light shafts. Perhaps she’s the one I heard scream.
A dull throb forms in the pit of my stomach.
It doesn’t matter how much of an arse Jonas was at the end, he still looked out for me at the start.
Still felt enough for me to offer me marriage; a lifetime bound to me, with my forbidden powers and love for another man.
The thought of Jonas lying dead or dying somewhere in the maze is enough to raise tears in my throat.
They won’t leave the others here, will they?
I voice the question loudly in my mind, hoping the Goddess might hear and answer me.
The priestesses will take the bodies of those who died, surely?
When no reply comes, my mind returns to my friends. To Benny. I pray to every God and Goddess that he hasn’t frozen to death out there, waiting for us to finish. Yet it’s hard not to think of his skin turning blue. His fingers black as frostbite claims them.