Page 37 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“Don’t call me Master,” he commands.

My chest tightens. Is it because of me? Is my distaste and hatred for the word obvious?

Licking suddenly dry lips, I swallow roughly. “Have I done something offensive?” I inquire, forcing my voice to remain calm.

He shakes his head. “No, I just … hate it. Don’t call me that. Just Ruen.”

That’s a surprise to me, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I nod my acquiescence. If he doesn’t want me to call him Master and I don’t want to anyway, then there’s no point in arguing.

Clouded sky eyes stretched over canvas, with lines of every midnight shade pulling towards his blackened pupils, Ruen glares at me for several long moments. The muscle in his jaw bunches and releases, making me curious about what he’s thinking. I don’t ask, though. I simply wait. Until, finally, he turns back and starts walking, leaving me to trail behind him—the image of the perfect servant.

I wonder now, how my insolence in undermining Theos’ attempt to thwart our bet will go. There’s really only one way to find out and that’s to remain at their sides, no matter what plans they concoct in the future.

Ruen and I pause in front of a wide arching doorway, and he lifts the latch, swinging the panel of wood inward to allow us access. I scan the room, taking in the design. Academy classrooms are built like miniature amphitheaters. I assume the doors to the corridors are meant only for students as they’re angled at the back of each room so attendees must descend to the seats of their choice. There’s another door at the bottom near the darkened board with scribbles written in chalk over its surface. I catch sight of Niall, again stationed against the farthest wall. He leans away and gives me a half-hearted wave.

Despite one of the selling points of humans serving Mortal Gods in order to gain access to the classes, it’s obvious Terra aren’t treated as real students but are relegated to staff that stand along the outer edges of the rooms, waiting for when they’re needed. They might be in the same space, they might hear the same lessons, but they are far from equal.

When Ruen and I enter, I pause alongside the other Terra as he moves down to a center aisle and takes a seat next to his brothers. Several heads turn at his entrance, both Mortal God and Terra alike.

The Darkhavens, it appears, are quite infamous if the attention they garner is anything to go by. Is it because they’re rare First Tiers? Or is it something else? I’ll have to do more research into their backgrounds.

The singular door at the bottom of the classroom blasts open, slamming against the wall behind it as a tall woman in long dark robes appears in the entryway. I hurry to station myself against the back wall with my hands clasped tightly behind my back and my head trained forward. The Goddess has the appearance of a bird with a rather large nose. Despite that, however, her skin is unmarked and shining with an internal light that I know all too well.

I clench my hands into fists at the small of my back. Mortal Gods aside, I haven’t yet seen one of the Divine Beings since entering the Academy grounds. The distant memory of Talmatia in Mineval slips through my mind, and I grind my teeth.

“Texts,” the Goddess barks, and as soon as she does, several Terra move forward, removing books from the bags they’re holding and setting them in front of the appropriate Mortal God. Without a bag or texts, I remain silent and still.

None of my charges look back at me. In fact, Kalix even goes so far as to yawn and arch his back, slipping his booted feet onto the table in front of him. The Goddess doesn’t turn around and instead, writes out a series of words onto the board, including her name: Narelle.

I search the information in the back of my mind, but I don’t recognize the name. A Lower God then, I guess. That would make sense. From what I understand, there are only a few Upper Gods that take positions within the Academies.

Narelle finally pivots to face her students and scowls when she spots Ruen, Kalix, and Theos—all sitting front and center. “Where are your texts?” she demands.

Theos shrugs. “Didn’t bring ’em.”

The scowl on her perfect face deepens and she directs her gaze upward. “I know you three have been given a new Terra, which of these is yours?” the Goddess asks.

Ruen leans back and glances over his shoulder—directly at me. Fuck.

“You!” Narelle points one long finger at me and then turns her hand upside down before curling it towards her. “Come here.”

An invisible pull catches around my throat and tugs me forward. I curse internally as I stumble away from the wall and find my legs moving of their own accord. This is the danger of the Divine. Their ability to enter and coerce. Only by the grace of something un-Divine are most Mortal Gods incapable of using it. The feeling of another’s Divinity crawling over me and through me makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

My legs don’t stop until I’m standing right before the grand Goddess. “You are responsible for bringing the supplies of your charges,” she snaps. “Where are they?”

“I was given nothing, Your Divinity.” My words cut through my lips with the utmost politeness. All the while my fingers itch for a blade.

“Excuses. A punishment is required.” Without another word to me, she flicks her finger through the air and my body spins to face the students. Theos leans forward, propping his elbows on the table in front of him and clasping his hands together to set the bottom of his chin on his steepled fingers.

Narelle scoffs and I feel air on the backs of my legs. “An unusual uniform too,” she chastises. “How impertinent.” I stiffen and have to force myself to relax. Whatever the pain is, it’ll be that much worse if I tighten my muscles.

Standing there before dozens of eyes—all ranging from curious to amused to pitying—I bite down on my tongue as the God, Narelle, delivers her punishment. The first strike leaves me breathless. The second sends vibrations of pain up my calves. By the third, the fabric of my pants is yanked up further by the same invisible force this Goddess seems to possess.

My lips part and fire lashes over the backs of my calves. I nearly go down onto my knees as the intensity only increases. Pain sears over my flesh. Another lash. Skin splits. Blood leaks down the backs of my ankles.

Violence pours through me, sealing itself within my blood. The need for retribution sets at the edge of my teeth, waiting with drooling desire to sink into Divine flesh and rip it free from bone. Another strike and then two more. I close my eyes, sinking into my head and praying to some unknown entity—certainly not anything Divine—for this to be over quickly lest my healing takes over and reveals my secret. I’m cursing myself for not foreseeing something like this.

The assaults come to a halt and I crack my eyes open. The first thing I see when I turn my head is Niall’s face—horrified and full of concern. Too kind for his own good, truly. The loosened fabric of my pants legs falls down, sticking to my wounded flesh and exacerbating the pain.

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