Page 54 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Chapter 24

Kiera

The Darkhaven brothers show up at noon on the dot, but before they do, at least ninety percent of the Academy populace has already arrived and taken their seats. There’s a buzzing of excitement that pulses between the short, stinted silences that echo through the arena as the last of the Terra hurry to finish their duties and get into place.

Turning my head, I scan the crowd noting that Mortal Gods and Divine Beings are separated into their own stands. Instructors—the Gods that aren’t presiding over the arena—are collected under a lavish tent with cushions. There are Terra holding bubbly drinks in crystal glasses upon trays. It’s as if they’re ancient nobles attending a theatrical play versus Gods watching their children getting ready to kill each other.

“Terra.” Ruen’s sharp bark has me righting my posture as he steps past me out of the entrance at the top of a staircase where I’ve been waiting since I spotted them enter below.

“Your seats are this way,” I reply, pivoting to lead them towards a row at the very top of the stands across from the Divine Beings’ tents. Kalix bounds past me, his long legs eating up the distance with obvious enthusiasm.

There are cushions placed across the stone benches for Mortal Gods and there are Terra that stand at the edges of each one, at the ready for any command. Unlike the Gods, all of whom are pleasantly chattering and placing bets on who will be taking part in today’s battles, there are more than a few Mortal Gods who are noticeably agitated and nervous for the start of the event.

Theos is one of them. He’s unusually quiet as he bypasses me and takes a seat at the very end of the stone benches alongside his brothers. Ruen sits back and crosses his arms over his massive chest, and I peer down, noticing the small white scars that dot his flesh as his shirtsleeves ride up. Interesting. What must it have taken for a Mortal God of his descent to have maintained those scars considering that anyone with Divine Blood should be able to heal nearly instantaneously? I store that piece of information in the back of my mind for later. Any knowledge is good knowledge. After all, there’s no telling, yet, who my actual target could be. For all I know, it very well could be one or all of them. They certainly have the attitudes to make someone crave their deaths, in my opinion.

“Who’s presiding?” Kalix leans forward, head lifted up and pointed at the opposite end of the arena where the Gods sit. He doesn’t have to squint to see the woman who steps forward at the edge of a stone railing covered in a bright royal green tapestry. His face falls and with a groan, he sits back and sighs. “Ugh, her? That’s not fair.”

At his side, however, both Theos and Ruen appear to relax. “It’s Maladesia,” Theos practically breathes out the Goddess’ name in relief. I scan the crowd and settle on the Goddess. She’s tall, taller than any woman I’ve ever met—even more so than Ophelia. Her height is countered by the willowy frame of her body, cloaked in thin sheer white robes. With the sun beating down, shining over the top of her ebony hair, braided in long ropes all around her head, she appears almost like a queen of old. Or she would have, had she been wearing a crown.

Maladesia. I rack my brain for the Goddess, but there are so many. I have no recollection of reading or hearing about her.

“Who is that?” I don’t mean to say the question aloud, but somehow it manages to slip free.

Ruen is the one to answer. “Goddess of Praise,” he says, keeping his voice low. “She’s usually in charge of the younger Mortal Gods. She’s instructed most of the students here at some point or another. That combined with her natural inclination for praise will at least ensure that these don’t end in death matches.”

“It’s boring,” Kalix complains.

Theos grits his teeth and shoots daggers at his brother through his eyes. I sigh. These three, I swear. They might look like hulking behemoths and have the capacity for murder and slaughtering like any Divine Being, but at the end of the day, I often feel as though I’ve been put in charge of three fledglings.

Now that the presiding God has been announced, Theos and Ruen appear more excited for the battles. It’s as if the black cloud of fear for their friend has been washed way. I watch them out of the corner of my eye as Theos cranes his neck, peering around the stands until he pauses. I follow his gaze, spotting his friend, Darius, and the girl he recommended for advancement as well, Enid, sitting in the lower half of the stands along the left side of the arena. They appear jostled with excitement themselves, talking animatedly to one another. I’m surprised they aren’t more concerned.

“Will your recommendations for advancement be in the battles today?” I inquire, curious.

Theos nods sharply. “Yes. All new advancements are required to perform in battles,” he answers.

“Is it just the new advancements?” With my hands clasped at the small of my back, I glance over Darius and Enid, trying to spot any nervous Mortal Gods and pick out the ones that already know they’ll be fighting today. It’s not difficult—at least, for me it’s not. I can smell the added bit of excitement and agitation a mile away. Across the arena, seated in a section reserved for the lower Tiers, I spot the girl Niall serves. Her red hair makes her stand out even when it’s pulled back sharply away from her face and tied up. I scan her surroundings and find Niall hurrying down the stairs, carrying a tray of drinks.

“No,” Theos replies, distracting me. “The Gods don’t like boring things, so they’ll select previous champions at random and throw them into the ring at will.”

“That might not be so true with Maladesia in charge today,” Ruen says. “She’s more interested in draws and clear winners—the more praise those around her receive, the higher her power.”

“The higher her power?” I peer down at him, meeting the midnight color of his eyes as he looks up at me.

“Gods often gain a bit of power from those around them. Strength. Praise. Sex. Axlan is the God of Victory, therefore he feels a bit of an increase in energy when his students win matches—even in class. Demia, the Goddess of Birds, usually has one with her at all times. They are addicts to their own abilities and the longer they feed their need for them, the stronger they are.”

My lips part in surprise. How fascinating. Who knew there were still things I didn’t yet know about the Gods? I turn my eyes to the arena with a newfound interest. “Then why were you so surprised that the Goddess of Praise would be presiding over the battles today?” I ask.

“Because she’s not bloodthirsty,” Kalix mutters.

“Not bloodthirsty?” I repeat.

“Battles usually call forth the Gods who prefer to see blood and damage,” Theos says. “God of Victory, God of Battle, God of War, God of Pain, God of Strategy—we expected any of them. Not the Goddess of Praise.”

I consider that for a moment. It makes sense, I suppose. The less violent Gods likely would have no interest in watching their children fight each other. Then again, I wonder if there is a God who lacks any sort of violence. There must be a God out there whose power stems from peace or tranquility. Would they be here, though? On this mortal plane where everything is chaos? Doubtful.

A pity, I suppose. Mortals could use more peace and tranquility. Perhaps even the Mortal Gods could use it too.

A horn sounds, echoing across the arena and silencing the chattering crowd in an instant. “It’s starting,” Theos mutters, leaning forward, his gaze fixed across the arena on his friend. As if instinctively influenced by those around me, my heart rate speeds up and I, too, find myself locked onto both Darius and the Goddess that stands at the helm of the arena. We wait with bated breath.

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