Page 25 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“Second,” Ms. Dauphine says, holding up a second finger to join the first, “you may not, at any point, over the course of your employment and service here to the Gods and their children, leave the Academy grounds without permission. Permission may not be granted by your charges. You may come to either myself or Mr. Hael if you have such a request.”

“Who would even want to leave?” I hear Niall mutter to himself.

Oh Gods, he really has no clue. I shake my head slightly and refocus on Ms. Dauphine as she gears up to unleash her final rule. She holds up a third finger and gazes out over the crowd. Her eyes pause on me for a brief moment and I blink, startled by the sudden attention. My spine stiffens and I straighten my shoulders as I meet her eyes. She arches one brow and then speaks.

“This final rule was recently applied,” she explains. “Once you’ve been assigned your charges, there will be no changing. All Terra are required to live in the same buildings as their charges within the servants' quarters, regardless of gender. We recommend making sure that you please your Mortal God charges or else the next four months will be quite long and strenuous for each of you. Any displeasure with your charges is unacceptable. You are Terra—mortals graced with the opportunity to exist in the same world as those that could smite you but have chosen to be accepting and loving.”

My insides roil with disgust at her sickeningly sweet words. Lies. All of it. I’ve seen the so-called love that Gods share with their mortal counterparts. The memory of the family from the dungeon in Talmatia’s region remains a constant in my mind. Though the man and woman had survived long enough to be spirited away to the Hinterlands—where I hope they live long lives—a small child had been brutally murdered by the callousness of a God. The care they give isn’t care at all—it’s tyranny. A domination that we all must somehow find a way to survive.

“Here at Mortal Gods Academy, we do not throw out unworthy creatures.” She lowers her hand back to her front and weaves her fingers together before offering a smile that scrunches her eyes. The most terrifying smile I’ve seen yet. If it were just the smile, I might not be so bothered. However, as Ms. Dauphine says her next words, she focuses on me again and her expression combined with the final note of the rule sends a chill down my spine. “Anyone caught breaking the rules will not be returned to their families. Instead, they will be graciously sent into the loving arms of the Divine realm. We hope that you’re ready to stay here, though, as our benevolent Divine Beings wish to continue to support all who have come to worship and serve them.”

My jaw drops. All around me, however, claps ensue. Even Niall applauds Ms. Dauphine’s final words as the excitement of the humans surrounding me expands outward. My heart pounds inside my chest. Dauphine just threatened their lives should they dare contradict the Gods or leave the school, and no one has seemed to notice. No, instead, they seem to see the thought of being “sent into the loving arms of the Divine realm” as a blessing. Lifting my hands, I give a begrudging few quiet claps to keep up the pretense and then put them back down the second the applause fades.

The massive etched double doors behind Dauphine and Hael open, creaking under the heavy weight. “Now!” Hael calls out. “Ladies will follow Ms. Dauphine and men will follow me as we lead the group of you to be fitted for your uniforms and then assigned your charges.”

In one big wave, everyone moves forward, crowding towards the steps as they align behind each of the senior Terra. I pass a glance to the side at Niall as he offers me a slight blushing smile and picks up his bag.

As I watch him follow the other men, I have a most disturbing thought. How many Terra actually leave the Academy? If they’re constantly on the search for new ones like Niall and me, what happened to the others before us? Dauphine said no one was thrown out, so does that mean they left willingly, or worse?

Chest tight and emotions wary, I adjust my own bag and move forward. I don’t know why—I just met the kid, but still, in my heart … I hope he’s not one of the unfortunate ones sent to the Divine realm. I hope like fuck they don’t kill him.

Chapter 11

Kiera

The inside of the Academy—the halls with vaulted ceilings and arched windows and even the Terra’s workspace—is the most opulent place I’ve ever seen outside of the wealthy mansions of the Gods. I’d only been in a few—Lower Gods’ mostly, as they were more apt to end up on a kill list than the Upper Gods, considering the cost of killing an Upper God and the special circumstances as such is practically impossible. Ophelia had revealed to me that though mortals know that one needs Divine Blood to kill a God, there were rumors of poor Lower Gods and mortal sympathizers who were willing to take on kill contracts. Rumors she used to continue to hide my existence. A distant thought occurs to me—perhaps one reason the client has been so secretive about my current target is that it involves an Upper God within the Academy.

I’ve never killed an Upper God, but if that were the case … I hope I can manage it.

“—depictions are of the various Gods’ ancient stories,” a voice explains from ahead of the long line. “Each Academy specifically depicts the Gods that are in residence—the instructors.”

I glance up at the girl Dauphine had introduced to the mass of us as Liana when we’d entered after we retrieved our assignment papers and our uniforms. She’s at least two decades younger than Dauphine with long thick dark brown hair draped down her back, and she’s obviously quite well versed in the Academy’s infrastructure and expectations.

Now that we’re all gathered into smaller groups, I can also see the boy from earlier—Niall. He lifts a hand, awkwardly struggling to hold all of his things as well as his new supplies as he does so. I smile at him.

“That, there, is Caedmon,” Liana says, stopping below a particularly dark painting as she points with a freckled hand. “Lord Caedmon is the God of Prophecy,” she explains excitedly. “He’s the kindest God I’ve ever met, myself. Perhaps, if you’re lucky, a few of you might be able to attend classes with a few of your charges and get to sit in on one of his lectures.”

Shock slaps me in the face. “We’ll be allowed to attend classes?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can stop it. Several heads turn my way and Liana, thankfully, simply smiles and nods.

“Of course,” she says. “You’ll be expected to follow any of your charges should they require your assistance. Many Mortal Gods ask that their servants carry their supplies for them as they attend classes.”

I arch a brow. “They don’t have bags?”

Several paces away, Niall’s eyes widen at my question and he ducks his head as if preparing for an outburst. Liana’s once pleasant expression creases and she frowns. “Of course they do,” she says. “All of our charges are provided with anything they might need—bags included.”

“Then why don’t they carry their own supplies in them?”

Someone in the crowd snickers and Liana’s head snaps to the side as if she’s seeking out who would laugh at something like that. The truly humorous thing, however, is the fact that she’s acting as if Mortal Gods can’t possibly carry their own things. If anything, humans are far weaker in strength.

Liana’s lips press into a straight line as she returns her attention to me, obviously frustrated by not being able to find the giggler—and perhaps at my question itself.

“What is your name?” she demands.

Damn it. The question was too much. I shuffle on my feet, mimicking discomfort and worry. “Kiera,” I reply. “Kiera Nezerac.”

Her eyes widen in surprise the second my surname escapes. “Ah, I see,” she says with a decisive nod. “No wonder you’re unaware. With a name like that, you must be from outside the cities.”

Hold it in, Kiera, I order myself. Don’t do it. Don’t fucking make a face. Don’t even show an ounce of irritation. Just nod along like a dumb little servant. Smile and blink, Kiera. Smile and fucking blink.

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