Page 30 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“The same way he takes a man, I suppose.” The tart reply comes before I can stop it. Fuck.

For just a breath, the room is silent and I fear my own lack of impulse control has ruined me, but then there’s a laugh. Deep and echoing. I look up and am surprised to find it’s not Kalix, though those daunting eyes of his dance with mirth. I turn to look at the blond, but he’s also not the one laughing. Instead, his eyes are widened with surprise and turned towards the corner. Concern marks his brow, pressing a line into the pristine flesh in the center of his forehead.

“Ruen?” the blond calls—giving me the final piece of the puzzle to decipher which of them is which. If the green-eyed monster is Kalix, and the third and last Darkhaven brother in the corner is Ruen, then the blond must be Theos.

Shaking my head and pulling myself away from Kalix’s grip, I turn and look to the corner where a rather large man is stretched out along a cushioned lounge with a book opened over his chest that rises and falls with laughter.

“Amused, brother?” Kalix asks, his voice ripe with the obvious desire to laugh himself.

Booted feet hit the ground as Ruen sits up from his reclining position. The book on his chest slips down and he catches it, snapping it shut and setting it to the side before it can fall to the floor. Theos tears his gaze from his brother and fixes me with a dark, almost violent look; one I can’t possibly understand.

Ruen’s laughter subsides as he stands and strides across the room. Unable to give my back to an enemy without a weapon in my hand, I pivot my body—angling myself so that I’m facing all three of the Mortal Gods. I stiffen as he approaches me, and despite the fact that he’s the only one wearing a tunic, somehow that makes the open gap at his collar that reveals smooth, cool-toned flesh that much more eye-catching. He doesn’t stop until he’s before me, so close that I can see the flecks of red and gold in his irises and the slight dimple in his right cheek.

“Are you going to greet me, human?” he asks, leaning forward.

Intimidation. These men have it in spades. Too bad for them, I am not one to be easily intimidated. They don’t know that, though, and I still need to act the part if I’m to remain here to find my target.

I force a little stutter into my tone once more as I greet him, repeating my earlier words. “H-hello. I am Kiera Nezerac. Your Terra, reporting for duty.”

Ruen continues to stare at me. There’s a thin line, slightly paler than the rest of his skin, that divides his right eyebrow. It’s long enough that it nearly reaches his eye. It’s old, that much is for sure, but that’s not the odd part of the scar. The fact is—this man is a Mortal God and at the rate he should be able to heal, it would take a lot to permanently scar his face like that. Perhaps brimstone? That’s the only mortal object that’s been known to wound a Divine Being, and unfortunately, I know about its effects all too well. But then, who would be allowed to scar a God child like Ruen Darkhaven?

Unlike Kalix, his attention doesn’t creep along my skin. Instead, he makes me nervous in a new way. It’s as if he can see deep into my mind, pick apart the thoughts that even I’m not aware of.

Are there abilities like that? I suddenly worry. Gods and Mortal Gods that can read minds? If that’s true, then it’s too late for me. There’s no doubt he’ll find out everything if he can, in fact, see into my thoughts. I hold my breath, waiting for that inevitable moment where I’m about to be told that I have some godsforsaken nerve to try and sneak in here to kill one of their own.

A minute passes, a second, and then a third. He doesn’t speak for the longest time and with each pass of the clock, my heart beats faster. My head is swimming, but I refuse to release first. Not until I know for certain whether or not I’ve been caught before I’ve ever had a chance to begin.

Finally, after weighted eons, he straightens away from me and turns his head back to his brothers. “I give her a week,” he states.

I blink. A week? How little does he think of Terra then? Or … how badly do they treat theirs? I force myself not to react. Instead, I keep my expression passive and unbothered.

Theos seems to contemplate his brother’s words as his body relaxes. “Is that generous by your standards?” he asks. “Or stingy?”

“Generous,” Ruen replies before stealing a glance back at me. “She’s a bare wisp of a creature.” He shakes his head as if he almost feels pity for me. “They should know better than to send someone so … small and weak.”

Don’t, I order myself even as I start to feel my muscles tighten and my senses bristle. I’m fine with being underestimated. Truly, I am. It makes my job easier. Somehow, though, the way he says it awakens sensibilities and pride I thought I’d long since tossed away.

“I will do my best to serve you,” I say in response.

Kalix is the first, and most eager, to respond. “I’m sure you will,” he says as he finally removes the tunic from his shoulder and slips it on over his head. “I, for one, look forward to your service.” I blink as his chest disappears from view and he rolls up the sleeves while maintaining that ever-present disturbing grin of his.

“Breakable, Kalix,” Theos reminds him. “Very breakable. Should we make a bet of it?”

“I’m sorry?” I frown. “A bet?”

Theos ignores me as Kalix seems to consider his brother’s words. He turns to Ruen and lifts four fingers. “Four weeks,” he says.

“A month?” Ruen replies, sounding rather surprised.

“If she can last that long, what do I get?” Kalix asks.

“Are you planning on keeping your hands off of her for four weeks?” Theos asks.

My understanding of their conversation deepens. The three of them are placing bets to see how long I’ll last and from the sound of it, Kalix is the decider of such things. The sexual innuendos riding off of his words come as almost a second language that isn’t too hard to understand even if it does disgust me.

“Of course not,” he chuckles, “but”—his eyes cut back to me, narrowing as he roves from the bottom of my booted feet up to my face—“I have a good feeling about this one.”

“Fine, then,” Theos says. “I’ll take that bet. I say two weeks at most.”

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