Page 15 of Of Gods and Pain

“Bren!” We both jolt at the unwelcome guest. “It appears you can be useful, after all. You’re dismissed; Anellah and I have a play date.” He slaps my friend on the shoulder, who immediately drops his hands and turns away, leaving the false god and me alone.

I take him in, no longer afraid of pissing him off. I’ve definitely gone past his breaking point; I know I’ll be receiving his full wrath from now on, so what’s it matter if I push back in every way I want to?

“You could have been a queen, Anellah. I would have worshiped at your feet and given you only the best of everything.” He sounds hurt by what I did; not physically, but like I broke his heart.

Good. Why don’t I break it a little more?

“The only thing you’d ever worship is your own cock. You’re pathetic, Andras.” He winces, and I keep going. “Did you seriously believe anything I said back there? And here I thought I was naïve,” I let out a maniacal laugh. “I will never love you. No. One. Will ever love you. You are the literal scum of Europa; so unwanted that they tried to execute you.

“And, of course, you just had to continue being a disappointment by living, didn’t you? What’s your plan, huh? You kill the gods and then expect everyone else to follow you? I can tell you it won’t work…every single god on that realm hates you. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only one in either realm who does like you is Imogen; probably because she couldn’t get cock anywhere else, and had to settle for your measly, disgu—” my words cut off when he knees me in the gut, causing me to bow forward on a strained gasp.

“That’s enough!” He roars so loudly I’m sure the rest of the city heard. I lift back up to glare at him, refusing to be intimidated. There’s nothing he could do to me that he hasn’t already done, so fuck the nice act. I see the blood covering his nose, which is no longer broken; I smirk as my eyes drag down to his pants, looking pointedly at the area I stabbed before meeting his stare again. Rage radiates off him in delicious waves.

I think I’ve found a new hobby. I’m clearly going to die, anyway, so I might as well make his life hell, too.

Chapter Seven

Casmir

“So…you met a goddess, helped her retrieve her memories, found out she was your—what was it?” My father questions, clearly confused about how all of this happened in the last several months.

“Soul bond,” Emrys answers quickly. His leg shakes as he wrings his hands together. Em is not one to outwardly display his fears and insecurities, but he’s always felt comfortable around our parents. Well, my parents; but he basically grew up with them as well. He loves and respects them just the same.

We’re sitting next to each other in their kitchen; the house is small, but perfect for them. My father built it for mom when she became ill, creating a space where she could live without feeling like a burden to anyone. The ceilings are tall, filled with windows to let in the natural light she loves so much. All shelves and cabinets are within her reach, and there are no stairs on the property. He chose a piece of land just outside the city, where they’re close enough to everything they need, but far enough away that they have their own privacy.

I think mom really enjoys that aspect of their house, as she can garden without being watched by those who wish to get a glimpse of the sick Anlorian princess. Her favorite room, however, is the all-glass sun room my father built for her. From what he tells me, she spends most of her time in there. Especially when she’s having a bad day. She doesn’t paint very often anymore, but the lighting in there is perfect for her when she has the energy to.

I miss her.

A heavy pang presses against my heart when I think about who she used to be. Always smiling and happy…supporting Em and me with whatever crazy things we did that day. Her illness has taken so much from her. Even the light in her blue eyes has dulled.

It scares me. Especially since we have no clue how to help her. None of the healers can determine the cause or issue. There are so many unanswered questions that I yearn to figure out.

What will it take to cure her? Can she be cured? How much worse will the symptoms get?

Will she die from it?

I used to believe there wasn’t an illness that could kill fae, but looking at her now…I’m not so sure anymore. Her once rounded cheeks sink a little deeper into her face; her skin is pale and has a grey-ish tint to it. Her movements are labored, and her hands shake when she uses them. Her long, black hair is permanently stuck in a bun, appearing as though it had the life sucked from the strands.

“Soul bond. Right,” father scratches the stubble along his jaw, his voice wary. “And she was kidnapped by Andras, who is not fae, but an ex-god that was supposed to be killed hundreds of years ago?”

“Yes,” I state blankly.

“Okay,” he sighs deeply. “I think there is more to this than you’re saying, and I have many questions. However, I’m most concerned with why you two are here, talking to us, when you should be in Ceross, saving her from Prin—ah, Andras.”

Em and I share a look. We didn’t want to tell them about his magic, or his revenge plans; mainly because we know little about them, but it would also worry our parents and cause unnecessary stress to mom. But if we want their help, I don’t think there’s another choice.

I square my shoulders and report every detail we have on the god. My voice wavers when I explain what he’s doing to Nell, and how dangerous he is with her magic. As I talk, my father sits straighter and becomes more alert, now understanding the dire nature of everything.

When my words silence, the pressure of Em’s hand shoots up my spine as he gently rubs my back. My hands tremble slightly, and I fill my lungs with the strawberry preserve my mother is making.

I feel like I’ve failed as a prince.

I am so lucky to even have my soul bonds…and then my ignorance gets one of them kidnapped. Now I’m facing our parents with my head down, asking for their help. This shouldn’t be their problem. I should know how to handle these situations; it’s what I was raised for.

Sometimes I wish I could zap back into the younger version of myself. The one who had no worries outside besting Em at everything we did. No royal duties, no expectations of me, no one to save.

That’s so fucking selfish of me.

---