Page 49 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Realizing my mistake, I dip my head. “I apologize, Your Divinity. I meant no disrespect.”

“No, no, I wasn’t chastising you, Kiera.” A wary emotion rolls through me each time he says my name. There is a power in naming something and I normally don’t like using my real one for missions like this, but going under pseudonyms for long periods of time is also a risk. Too long as someone else and you start to forget yourself, Ophelia had taught Regis and me. Sometimes, when an assassin is under an alias for weeks, months, even years, they start to become the people they act as. It’s risky. As killers, as those who’ve committed the most heinous of deeds, we must never forget who we truly are.

“You look me in the eyes.” Caedmon’s sudden sentence has me lifting my head once more. Confusion is ripe within me.

“I don’t understand … should I not?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, what I mean to say is that I wanted to do something for one brave enough to meet my gaze.”

“Brave enough?” I still have no clue what he means.

Caedmon taps his free hand on the end of one of the armrests of his chair. “Do you know what my specialty is, Kiera?” he asks.

Yes. “You’re the God of Prophecy.”

He nods. “Do you know why I find it so unique that you look me in the eyes even knowing that?”

I shake my head, and his smile widens, though only slightly.

“Gods and mortals alike fear the unknown,” he says, turning his head. His eyes seem to fixate on the depiction of the woman in the stained glass. “Prophecy is a useful specialty as much as it’s damning. It is both a blessing and a curse to know the future. Though many understand that I may have no hand in deciding fate, simply knowing it is a fearful matter in and of itself. It is a rare individual, I find, that is able to meet my gaze without fear of what they may see in my eyes.”

Caedmon turns back to me and this time, as the brown irises of his gaze swirls, it changes. “What do you see, Kiera, when you look into my eyes?”

All of the breath I’d recaptured evaporates from my lungs. My shoulders sink down as an invisible weight settles around them. The brown of his gaze folds in on itself, leaving only darkness. Never-ending. Immaculate. Pure ebony. There’s no light. None at all. My lashes flicker as I stare into the chasm that he shows me.

Tingles prick at my flesh, like the tiny legs of spiders crawling all over me. Familiar. Awakening. Perhaps this is a void he is showing me, but for some reason, I don’t think it’s empty. That abyss that I stare into … somehow, I feel as if it’s staring back at me.

I blink and the vision is cut off. I lean back, feeling a fresh coating of sweat all over me, lingering against my skin beneath my clothes. Clothes that have long since dried, I find. How long was I staring into his eyes for?

“Kiera?”

I jump at the sound of Caedmon’s voice. “I-I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I didn’t…”

“Can you tell me what you saw?”

Slowly, with great effort, I inch my head up and meet Caedmon’s gaze once more—half worried at what I might find there. The chasm is gone now, though, and all that remains is the warm soil richness of his kind brown eyes. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Nothing,” I answer him.

“What?” His brow puckers as his forehead scrunches.

“I saw nothing,” I tell him. “Just … darkness.”

The effects of my earlier efforts to calm my racing heart have faded. The damn thing practically pounds against the inside of my rib cage, trembling with an emotion I can’t name. It’s not one I think I’ve ever felt before. It feels stronger than fear and yet more powerful than anger.

“Interesting…” Caedmon’s response leaves much to be desired. I don’t know what to say nor what to ask. In fact, there isn’t a single question that formulates in my mind despite the mass of disorientation that has taken up residence in my head. “Very interesting.”

Caedmon stares at me for a moment longer before dragging in a breath himself. Finally, he stands from his chair. Quickly following the movement, I, too, stand and then waver back and forth on my feet, unsure of what to do next.

“You should head back to the north tower,” Caedmon says, turning away from me as he makes his way back to the desk that’s piled high with books and papers. The light outside of the stained glass window has waned, a clear indication that much time has passed. “I’m sure your wards are searching for you by now.”

“I…” How do I respond to that? “Thank you for your care,” I finally gather the air to say.

The reverberation of Caedmon’s chuckle makes the muscles across the backs of my shoulders bunch and jump. I see, now, why he had said people were fearful of him. Why they wouldn’t look into his eyes. Now that I know of his abilities, it sets me on edge. If a God of Prophecy knows fate, then there’s no doubt in my mind that he must know more about me than he lets on.

Why? Is it because he can’t take part in the future? The present? What must that be like—to know things and yet be unable to speak of them? A bubble of sympathy rises in my chest. The life of this God—as different as he is from my expectation—is no life at all if he can’t involve himself in anything. It’s a half-life, a true curse as he said.

“If you need anything, you’re always welcome to call on me, Your Divinity.” The words escape my lips before I can think better of them. They’re hypocritical and as soon as they reach my ears, I wish I could snap my hands out and grab them back, stuffing them back down my throat.

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