Page 61 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“Wait.”

I jerk my head back as Kiera steps off the platform beside our seats. Her gaze is heavily focused on the fight with a pinch in her lips as she frowns. Her eyes are squinted. Whatever food remains in my stomach from this morning curdles and turns sour as I jerk my head back to the arena.

No. I see it before it happens. Darius arms are wide, his face lit with triumph. The Mortal God beneath him holds his throat, blood pouring between his fingers—his face tight with pain and rage. I jump to my feet.

“Darius!” The scream comes too late. Fire erupts from the Mortal God’s fingers and shoots upward, searing a path up Darius’ body and right through his head.

The cheers halt and the crowd goes silent. Ruen curses and grabs hold of me, but it’s too late. Darius’ body jerks, goes still, and a moment later, he slumps over. Even from here, though, I can see the wide hole at the back of his head, seared at the edges of his charcoal colored hair. Blood. Brains. Lifeless. Limp. The winner chokes out one last breath and then he, too, collapses back against the ground, shaking once, twice, three times before a wheeze of breath escapes him.

Dead.

They’re both dead.

“Shit.” My head turns as if on a pike to see Kalix now standing a few feet behind Kiera, staring down the stands into the arena as a few Terra jog across the ground to take away the bodies of the fallen. “I never expected that.”

No. None of us had. Numbly, I turn to look at Kiera. Her expression collapses into emptiness as she turns and meets my gaze.

How did she?

Chapter 27

Kiera

There is a hunger inside of me following the death of the Mortal God known as Darius. A hunger for knowledge and understanding. For retribution. Though I didn’t know the Mortal God, just as I felt the sense of injustice for the family back in Mineval, the same emotion swarms me. The wrongness of this action cannot be denied, and yet … it is.

I’m confused by my own emotions. As I’d watched the battle, my heart had raced in my chest. I’d found myself leaning forward, silently critiquing his skills and unwittingly praying for his safety. Turning my head, I scan the arena, starting with the students. There’s an air of tension that I recall similarly from that market in Mineval. It’s filled with a slow, quiet seething of malfeasance.

Curiously, I set my sights on the tents of the Gods. Several are laughing and chattering away. Few are actually watching the arena now as the bodies of Darius and Corillo are dragged out of sight. I want to ask what happens to them after this, but now is certainly not the time.

It did not—certainly could not—escape my notice that he meant something to the Darkhaven brothers, especially Theos. As he and his opponent’s bodies are dragged out of the arena by red-faced and struggling Terra, Ruen gently urges Theos back down into his seat. Kalix steps past me and takes his position at Theos’ side—as if there is a silent connection between the three of them and Kalix knows that, despite his win, he needs to be mindful of his siblings.

I’ve never known what it’s like to have siblings, but Regis comes to mind as my only example. It’s clear from the pallor of Theos’ skin and the faraway look in his eyes as he faces forward once more that he’s distraught. Loss. Grief. It rolls off of him in painful, silent waves. Regis once said I was a bleeding heart, and now I think he was right. I never expected to feel sorry, to feel empathy for another of my kind, but that’s exactly what this is. Understanding. Sorrow. Repressed rage and, as much as I wish I could deny it, compassion.

From that moment on, the rest of the day’s battles pass in a blur of furious action, some cheering, and many more deaths. Over and over again. Mortal Gods are placed before each other, pitted against one another like animals fighting for survival, and this more than anything thus far makes me realize the truth of it all. They are animals fighting for survival.

Neither Ruen nor Theos is called upon to fight, and thus the two of them, plus Kalix, stay silent and watch the following fights with stoic and unbothered expressions. Even Kalix’s earlier excitement has waned. He seems more bored than before. Tired, even. A yawn stretches his mouth wide as the final battle is called to an end when one Mortal God slices through her opponent’s neck with a sharp sword, decapitating the man in a spray of blood.

Night falls and sconces have been lit all around, throwing hideous shadows across the stained ground and the stone walls by the time the Gods call a halt to the battles. Dolos steps back and allows Maladesia to take to the platform once again. Her words are drowned out by the thumping pulse of my blood as I turn my gaze to my wards.

The Darkhavens have their eyes fixed on a point far away, and they don’t react or even move a muscle until the beings around them begin to rise from their seats. Only when that happens do they seem to come back to themselves.

Theos stands up from his seat and shoves past Ruen, nearly crashing into me in his haste to leave. He doesn’t look back. Quickly stepping to the side, I narrowly miss colliding with others as they part to make way for him—as if they can all sense the cloud of darkness that now surrounds him. I stare after him and I’m not the only one.

The silence from his absence is loud, echoing all around us. His brothers … and me.

All around me, the children of the Gods slowly make their way out of the stands, giving the remaining Darkhavens a wide berth. All around me, I hear their voices, some softer and some louder than others. They are not human. They are not Gods. Yet, they are … alive. They exist in a place between the two and, suddenly, they have my sympathy. They are not immune to emotion or loss because of the privilege in which they were raised the way I once assumed.

Loathe as I am to admit it, they are far more like me than I ever wanted to see. If I am able to feel pain and sorrow and hope, then, no doubt, they do too. For Theos … I wonder what this loss will mean to him.

Already, I know it’s an important one. Perhaps something, too, that will change the course of his life. I don’t know what Darius meant to him, but it’s clear his brothers do and their silence speaks volumes.

Pity, it seems, comes in many different flavors, and right now, it has the familiar taste of mourning.

“What do we do now?” Kalix asks, directing his attention to Ruen.

Ruen’s gaze follows after Theos, a deep yearning in his eyes. Unfortunately, it is also one that I recognize. I’ve seen looks like that many times over the last ten years, usually in the mirror. Now, it makes me uncomfortable enough to see it reflected in someone else’s expression that I turn away from him and lower my gaze to the ground at my feet.

“Let him go,” Ruen finally decides. “We should find something else to occupy our time with tonight. No doubt he’ll be drinking himself into a stupor.”

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