Page 55 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“Greetings, students!” Maladesia calls across the arena, her voice ringing out with clarity despite the distance. There must be some sort of Divine artifact she’s using to do so. “Welcome to this semester’s battle arena!”

A cheer echoes up from the students with hands and fists being thrown into the air. The Goddess smiles and allows the interruption for a moment before once again, holding up her hands and silencing them.

“As all of our newly advanced students make their way to the arena, we will have a word from our Academy’s dean, Dolos.”

As she speaks, a shadow at her back moves forward, slithering to the front of the railing that separates the presiding Gods from the rest. A man steps from that shadow and takes her place. Maladesia bows slightly at the waist and shuffles to the side for him to address the crowd now held enrapt by his sudden presence. I stiffen, my chest growing tight as I swallow against a lump in my throat.

“Shit.” Theos’ quiet curse tells me all I need to know. This God is not well-liked.

“Welcome all,” Dolos announces. His face is sharp, almost skeletal. His eyes are sunken back into his head with shadows that stroke down the sides of his face, strengthening the image of a skeleton covered in the thinnest of skin. Blood rushes through my ears. My breathing comes faster. “It’s such a pleasure to see you all here,” Dolos continues.

A heavy weight falls upon my shoulders and back and several beads of sweat pop up along my spine. The sound of his voice fades into the background as my blood rushes faster and faster and my heartbeat takes over. Ice slips over my limbs. Vomit threatens to spill forth. I swallow and swallow again, tasting rot and bile. What. The. Fuck.

Fingers latch onto my wrist, burning hot. “Calm down.” I hear the command but I can’t follow it. My stomach churns, threatening to expel everything it contains—including the organ itself.

Distantly, I can hear the God still talking, but whatever words he is saying never reach my ears. The hand on my wrist is like a manacle and yet, a soft thumb strokes over my racing pulse. “Almost done,” the deeply masculine voice says. “Hold it in a bit more.”

I’m going to pass out. Shit. I’ve not done that since I was a fledgling would-be assassin, and even then, it was only after days of harsh training. One breath. Two. Three. I keep breathing, focusing on the action to keep myself from running. Invisible chains wrap around my body, choking me.

Then, as quickly as the strange sensations had come, they disappear. I blink and realize I’m on the ground with my knees pressed into the stone steps. Sweat pours down my forehead and temples. Blinking furiously, I lift my head and peer around. Shockingly enough, many Mortal Gods appear uncomfortable, their faces leached of all color, and more than a few Terra who’ve passed out.

“You handled that surprisingly well.” The voice comes from the one sitting at my side whose fingers still grip my wrist.

I lift my head to find that Ruen and Theos have switched places. Ruen’s eyes, the same color of the night sky, meet mine briefly and I’m held spellbound, captive in both his gaze and his grip. Quickly yanking my hand away, he surprises me further by releasing me immediately. “What…” I try to catch my breath. “What was that?”

“That”—Ruen turns back to the arena—“was Dolos, God of Imprisonment.”

God of Imprisonment? What the fuck was that power? I gasp for more air, but no matter how much I breathe, I feel as though I can’t get enough.

“It’s normal,” Ruen says, answering my unspoken question on why the fuck I’m feeling as if I’ve been weighted down by heavy chains until they nearly crushed me.

I glance at him sharply and his lips twitch. Is that amusement? From him? A shocker.

“To feel like I’m choking to death?” I demand.

He bites down on his lip and I narrow my eyes. I swear to the Gods, if he smiles right now…

I don’t finish the thought. “Yes,” he replies. “Dolos carries a heavy curse with his abilities. He’s usually seen shrouded in his own shadow to keep those around him from falling to their knees, but his ability pertains to imprisonment. Anyone in his presence feels as though they’ve been chained up and bound by him. He rarely shows himself.”

“I can see why.” Once again the words slip free before I can think better of it. Of course a God of Imprisonment would be a dean at one of the Mortal Gods Academies since this is little more than a prison to watch the spawn of the Divine Beings. How obvious of them.

“I would be careful about what you say,” Ruen says quietly, looking around pointedly as I finally climb back to my shaking legs. It irritates me that he doesn’t seem that impressed by Dolos’ ability.

“Why don’t you feel it?” I demand.

Ruen arches a brow at me. “Who said I don’t?”

My upper lip pulls back. “You don’t seem to.”

He shrugs and gestures to Theos and Kalix, both of whom also seem unaffected. In fact, the two appear rather bored as Maladesia retakes her place and continues with her speech. “We’ve met him a time or two,” Ruen says. “The more you’re exposed to his power, the less it takes effect. You get used to the feeling of being restrained when that’s all you’ve ever known.”

His words give me pause. I turn towards him and narrow my gaze. It hadn’t really occurred to me before now that they would understand their own restrictions, but perhaps I was wrong. Ruen doesn’t return my attention and refocuses on the arena as the first fighters are announced.

“So…” I hedge, “you seem unaffected because you’re experienced?”

Still, he doesn’t look at me, even as he responds. “We’ve all been down there at one point or another,” he says. “And we’ve all met Dolos. The Gods have made our standing among them quite clear.” He gestures to the arena. “After all, it’s not like you’ll see one of them down there, fighting for their lives.”

The bitterness that encompasses that ‘them’ comment doesn’t go unnoticed. “Fighting for their lives?” I repeat.

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