Page 23 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Regis shakes his head. “I think you forget how big the God Cities are, Kiera,” he says with a sigh. “We’re almost there, though. Look.” He pulls back the curtains over the window and nods to the scenery outside.

Hesitantly, I lean forward and peer through the dirty glass. My lips part as I spot the big castle that sits high above the other buildings. It’s a big, black behemoth of a creation with several dozen spires and towers circling the entire expanse. Even from where we are as we slowly climb the next street into the higher regions of Riviere, I can see the separations and stained glass windows.

Despite its grotesque sort of beauty, there is one thing that draws my attention more than anything else. The closer we get to the Academy, the fewer buildings there are that surround us. As if the Gods are being separated from their own children. Raised up from the common classes of mortals into a world all on their own, yet not quite far enough to touch their parents.

Mortal, but not human. Divine, but not Gods.

The carriage slows down and turns. Outside, I spot several more carriages and cabs, horse-drawn open-air carts too. Terra—new and old—making their trek to the illustrious Mortal Gods Academy of Riviere, the capital God City of Anatol, and the Academy that houses the most powerful of all the Mortal Gods.

I’m not entirely sure if this mission had sent me to one of the other two Mortal Gods Academies whether I’d feel the same as I do right now. From what I’ve studied in books and learned of the continent of Anatol, the others, the only ones of their kind, places of darkness and fear, are spread far and wide. The God City of Perditia is housed farther east in mountains so tall, the tips can’t be seen as they ascend into the skies themselves. I could have handled Perditia. I can handle Riviere. What I am thankful for, though, is that I was not forced to journey to the south. To Ortus.

Despite the warmer weather and the beautiful oceans that surround the first and oldest of the Mortal Gods Academies, there sits a memory in the back of my mind from long ago. A memory of a hand holding mine. Young. So fucking young. Barely old enough to toddle after the one clutching my fingers.

The castle that housed the first Mortal Gods that had walked the continent had been built just off the coast of the God City of Ortus. I remember seeing it before just once. It’d been the closest one to the Hinterlands, and I recall how it had glimmered amidst rock and frothy blue-and-green seas. Opaque. Like a mirror facing the rest of the world or a mountain cracked open. An ancient structure made of onyx, glassy clawing hands reaching up and outward. A blackened crown atop that tiny island. More a prison than an Academy. Cut off even more so than the one we’re currently heading towards. Even if the Mortal Gods Academy of Riviere is set outside of the actual city upon a cliffside that could collapse at any moment, at least it’s still a part of the mainland. Separate … but not so treacherously remote.

I’m not entirely sure if it’s still useable considering its age, but there’d been people standing atop it—Mortal Gods and Gods alike. Young and old. That was only fifteen years ago, so it probably still is an Academy. I’m thankful that Ortus is not my destination, that … that place is not my destination.

A chill dances down my spine at the old memory. Regis, either sensing my unease or seeing the evidence of it on my face before I can draw up my careful mask, reaches out and touches my knee. “Just treat this like any other job,” he advises. “Once we have the target name, I’ll send it by bird and then we’ll work on your escape plan. Kiera Nezerac will be burned and gone into the night and you’ll be able to buy a whole new identity with the denza you’ll receive.”

I nod, though my attention is fixed squarely on the quickly approaching gates. Now that I’m about to step into a world full of Divine Beings and Mortal Gods, I’m reminded of the singular Mortal God I’ve ever actually met and known long enough to hold a conversation with. Unlike the Mortal God I’d fought in Mineval, the one I’d killed years ago had been far more haughty and wicked—more Divine than mortal in mannerisms. Cocky and arrogant and cruel. It’d been the last time Ophelia had come with me on a mission. Killing someone who held abilities just like me had been the ultimate test.

I didn’t regret killing him—not when I knew the things he’d done to humans simply because they were powerless against him. Now, I’ll be faced with more of them. The spiteful spawn of the Divine. Crueler, somehow, for their hatred of mortals when they, themselves, were born out of such beings.

“New Terra are often tasked with the worst Mortal Gods,” Regis tells me, pulling back. My eyes remain on the window and the castle. “If need be, don’t hesitate to make yourself appear weak—too weak to be of consequence. The less you’re noticed, the better.”

I notice a figure standing atop the gates as our carriage pulls under it into a courtyard. The air in the cab changes, growing tense and tight. “Whatever you do, Kiera,” Regis says, “don’t”—his voice catches in his throat and draws my attention to his pinched face—“get yourself killed. Don’t become a tragedy to me, darling. I have few platonic friends in this life and I’d really prefer not to start over from scratch.”

My lips twitch at the platonic comment, but I can’t help the response that comes.

“The Gods are amused by tragedy,” I say absently. I can feel his eyes steady on my face, burning into my cheek. The words come anyway. “They revel in the sorrow of our lives and the control they wield. Do you think they came down from the Divine realm out of goodwill?” The question is rhetorical, but still, I laugh at the mere thought. “Think again. They came down so that they could sit in the front row to our terribly pathetic little attempts to fight against them. They got tired of watching the play from the outside and decided they would become part of it even if it meant they had to portray the villains.” I lift my fingers to the windowpane. “They’ll never return to the Divine realm. They love their positions too much for that. They enjoy the power they hold over us all and they don’t care if it’s unjust or cruel. At the end of the day, Gods are not human. There can be nothing humane about them because they lack the core essence of what it entails.”

The Gods will always be cruel wicked creatures playing with the toys they’ve created.

A beat passes and then the carriage pulls to a stop. It sways as the driver climbs down from the roof. “Remember that, Kiera,” Regis says. “Everything you just said, no matter what you see in there. No matter what you experience. I want you to remember what you just told me.”

I lift my gaze to his and realize that his brows are pinched. “Even if they don’t kill you, I don’t want to lose you in other ways.” Though I’m sure it’s only a heartbeat, it feels like it takes my mind a long time to catch up with his meaning.

I shake my head as the driver appears outside the door. I reach down for my bag and lift it back over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Regis,” I say as the driver props the door open and takes down the steps. “The Gods are responsible for a lot of evil in this world—if anyone remembers that, I do. Whatever blood runs through my veins. I’m mortal. Just like you.”

A Mortal God is still mortal after all, even if the others of my kind refuse to acknowledge that fact.

Chapter 10

Kiera

One by one, the incoming Terra gather in the front courtyard of the Mortal Gods Academy of Riviere. I assemble with the rest of them, watching as more and more cabs and carriages and open carts arrive to drop off their friends and family members. The faces of those departing appear both relieved and concerned—as they often glance back to those that are left behind.

From what I understand, being accepted as a Terra to this Academy is a thing of praise—likely because of the income it brings per household. As for mine, I know it’ll go into a safe account with my pseudonym as the sole proprietor. How amusing, I think. That I’m getting doubly paid as an assassin. Not that I’m confident that account won’t be seized the moment I disappear, but it’s still an amusing thought.

It takes several hours for the last of the servants to arrive and their family and friends to leave. Twilight is upon us before the gates have even closed and by the time they do, the sun is all but a distant memory. The chill of the night air has settled over us all and the only sweat that remains is cold and fearful.

“Excuse me. Pardon me. If you will just—oh, thank you!” A squeaky boy’s voice echoes from somewhere far back in the crowd, moving forward with each sentence until the person from which it comes finally stops at my side. His frizzy mousy brown hair is a little longer than is popular, curving behind his ears and down to the back of his neck as he sets the bag he’s brought with him on the ground and adjusts his cloak. It appears too big and heavy for a man of his size, but he manages to fix it so that it’s half tossed back over his shoulders and the front of his body is visible, giving him just enough room to lift his bag back into his hands and turn towards the front of the crowd.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” he asks absently, almost as if he can’t keep the words down but he’s not too concerned with whom he’s talking to.

I hum in the back of my throat as a response and feel the burn of his stare on my face until I turn and meet his gaze. “You’re an odd-looking one, aren’t you?”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

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