Page 111 of To Bleed A Kingdom

Chapter 22

Darius

No one can deny that Seboia is a marvel of a city. From our magicked water fountains to the crystal palace, even the jeweled street is meant to impress you with its opulent grandeur. But there are many, me included, who believe this beauty is excessive, pretentious even, and merely another calculated act for the Cascadonian royals to lord their superiority over the other kingdoms. But whereas Seboia itself could be considered to have vapid, brittle allure, the Gods Garden could never be misinterpreted as such.

Encircled within towering hedges, the Gods Garden is filled with thousands of flowers. Purple irises, yellow lilies, white hydrangeas, orange marigolds, pink hollyhocks. Their spicy and sweet floral scents perfume the air, mingling with that of freshly churned dirt. Honeysuckle climbs up the walls of secluded stone grottos. Delphinium and foxglove form pocketed plots with hand carved benches hidden within. Pale pink sweet peas and bushels of red roses line the cobblestone walkways, leading up to the dozen or so crystal statues of the gods.

No, the Gods Garden’s beauty could never be misconstrued as a hollow one. You can feel the love and care put forth from those who created this sanctuary. See their devotion to the gods in the way each flower was carefully chosen and placed. It is elegant and magical, enchanting to the senses, not to mention the most romantic spot in the city.

“Your sister isn't subtle, is she?” Lena asks with a chuckle, her shrewd gaze sweeping across the garden.

As subtle as a battering ram.

“Aurora has many redeeming qualities,” I sigh, glancing towards my feet at the crushed starlight jewels embedded in the stone pathway. “But subtlety isn't one of them.”

“Neither does that couple over there,” she says, pointing toward a male towing a giggling female into the darkness of the grotto.

A smirk twitches at my lips as I recall the many, many times I enjoyed a quick romp within that very same grotto. “The Gods Garden is a favorite amongst new lovers.”

“I can see that.” She tosses me a playful look. “Maybe we'll just avoid that area for the time being. Oh!” She startles, her words trailing off as we watch the couple pop back into view. “Or not.” She winces. “I think he's already finished.”

Shaking my head in sympathy, I recall a similar humiliating moment in my youth. One I wouldn't mind suppressing until the end of my time. “Poor male. He must be so ashamed.”

“I don’t know.” Lena cocks her head to the side, squinting at the very pleased looking fae. “He doesn't look too upset about it. The female, on the other hand…” She presses her fingers to her mouth, pinching her lips together on a laugh as we watch the irritated female smooth her rumpled dress and stalk off into the distance. “I doubt they'll be lovers much longer.”

Lena and I share another smile before she turns away, continuing on the walkway as I follow behind, watching her. Watching the way her wavy locks flitter in the breeze. Watching the way her cheeks stretch into a smile. The way she crouches before a patch of star jasmine, cradling the flower within her palm as she breathes in its rich, sweet scent. Completely entranced with the way she moves. The swing of her arms, the sway of her hips, the proud lilt to her chin as she ignores each female's sneer and each male's leer. Each motion is languid and graceful, confident and sure, but with the same lethal grace of a predator on the prowl.

But this danger she exudes,this indestructible veneer she wears as if she's a goddess amongst mortals, is only a facade. An illusion to disguise what she truly is. A human. And no matter how hard she trains, no matter how prepared she may be, no matter what she and Amara may believe, as a human, Lena is and always will be prey.

I grind my teeth as a flash of heat flares within my veins. Clenching my hands into fists, I attempt to control the flames sparking at my fingertips from the memory of her terror that day in the alley. Of the broken devastation on her face when she alluded to her tortured past. In that moment, I have never wished for anything more than to find the males who stole her innocence and slaughter every last one of them. I can't even comprehend how cruel and evil someone must be to attack someone like her. Someone so beautiful and pure, so full of life. She's a human empath, for godssakes! There hasn't been a single instance in recorded history of a human being blessed by the gods. She should be revered and worshiped, coveted for the rare jewel that she is. Instead, they used her soft, weak, human body to fulfill their own perversions. Rape isn’t just a crime to the body, but an assault to the soul. I could see that pain writhing within her amethyst eyes, could feel the jagged scars created from such a vile act.

“His jewels are so dark,” Lena says, jerking me back into the moment. Hands on her hips with her head tilted back, she peers up at the face of the fifteen-span tall crystal statue of Rhaegal, the Shifter God.

Since gods bestow our Gifts along with our jewels, it's not surprising that theirs would manifest quite differently than ours. Rhaegal, for instance, doesn't have any starlight jewels. What he does have are blackish, copper jewels dotting his top eyelid and feathering outward until reaching his hairline. He’s also not limited to four or five Gifts like fae and immortals, but rather he’s Gifted in all. Lust, empath, death, nature, fire, and so on. The one similarity you can find between immortals and the gods is that our colored jewels are a direct reflection of our dominant gift, or for a god, what power they hold dominion over.

“I imagine it's difficult to find jewels the exact shade as the gods’,” I say, knowing Rhaegal’s jewels are dark, but doubting they’re that dark.

“I bet. Soooo, these are your gods.” A crease forms between her brow as she hums to herself,glancing from one statue to the next, scrutinizing them as if learning of them for the first time.

“Do you not know of them?” I ask.She's spoken of the gods before. Not favorably, of course, but I assumed she knew of them. Although that may have just been a vague mention of them. Maybe she's never received a proper education of the divine beings. Every other being throughout Vanyimar has been taught since birth, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was the exception. More often than not, Lena’s knowledge of the world seems to be lacking.

“Oh, I know all about them.” She chuckles bitterly. “I just don't worship them.”

I don’t actively worship them either, but I do believe in them. How could I not? I wouldn’t be where I am today without the Gifts they bestowed on me, and for that I'll be forever grateful. One would think as a human with a god’s Gift, she would be, too. Then again, from what I've surmised about her, her Gifts seem to be more of a hardship than a blessing.

“Who do you worship?”

“Myself.” She laughs, a playful glint to her eyes. “I’m kidding. I don't worship anyone. Why would I?”

“To receive their blessings.”

Her expressions shutters, hardening to steel as she stops before Desdemona’s statue and says in a voice so sinisterly quiet, I’m taken aback by the venom brimming within. “I could strap myself to an altar, offering my very life for their favor and they still wouldn't bless me. No.” She shakes her head, her features relaxing as she turns her back on the Goddess of Death. “I'll make better use of my time.”

Enjoying a companionable silence, neither of us says anything as we stroll past statue after statue. Keyara, the Goddess of Vengeance. Saxon, the God of Mischief. Alura, the Goddess of Lust and Love. Enya, the Goddess of Fire. The ground at their feet overflows with trinkets, presents, and sometimes even food and wine. Occasionally she stops to appraise one more closely than the others, but more often than not, Lena gives them a passing glance and continues on.

“Do you think they look like this?” I ask.

“They don’t,” she replies, sounding sure of herself. She caresses her fingers along the arm of Calix’s statue, smiling softly as she saunters past The God of Protection and Compassion. The very same god who blessed her with his empathic Gifts.

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