Page 66 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

I respond to Theos’ words and close the cabinet door before turning towards him. “I’m not.” I was right—he’s still in the chair, only now his leg is propped up again instead of stretched out. I stride towards him and circle the chair before holding out the glass.

Gold eyes flash to my face. “What’s this?”

“Liquor,” I deadpan.

He waves his hand as if ordering me to take it away. “I’ve already got a…” He drifts off as he tries to reach down only to come back up with an empty bottle. Theos’ sunlight-colored eyes blink blearily at the clear glass over and over again until, with a sigh, I take it from him and lower it back to the floor.

I hold out the glass of amber liquid again. “Take it,” I order. “It helps ease the burden of pain.”

“Yes,” he says. “Physical pain usually.”

“Take it regardless,” I say. “Alcohol poured on wounds helps physical pain, but the kind you drink helps the pain inside.”

“I really will have you whipped,” he threatens.

I shrug and continue to hold out the glass. “You’ll do what you must. Now, drink.”

He scoffs and finally reaches forward, snagging the glass from my grip. A little bit of the rum sloshes over the rim and hits my fingers as he drags it to his lips. I lift my hand and lick the remains. It’s a nice spiced rum. The glass pauses right before it reaches his mouth.

“You’re a strange one,” he says.

“So I’ve often heard.” They had said as much when I’d challenged him and his brothers over their seemingly forgotten bet from my very first day here.

“You don’t do what you're told here and if others find out about that, it won’t just be me threatening to have you whipped. It will be someone who has no intention of letting you survive a whipping.”

“Is that caution I hear?” I ask, bemused. “From my great Master and the magnanimous God son, Theos Darkhaven?”

His face pinches tight and he puts the glass to his lips. He sucks back a long draw of liquor, draining a good half of the glass in under a few seconds. When he releases the rim, he shoots me a dark look. “Don’t call me that,” he orders.

“What? Your name?”

“No.” His voice is hollow as he speaks and it grows deeper, more … intimate as he keeps talking. “Master or … God son. You’re not allowed to call me by my titles or status. To you, I am just Theos.”

A blanket of silence descends between us. I’m not sure what to say, so I opt to say nothing at all and instead, respond with action rather than words. I reach out, grasping the glass in his fist and gently pry it from him. Tipping my head back, I meet his eyes as I put the same place his lips had touched on the glass to my own and drink. The rest of the liquid runs into my throat, burning a path into my stomach as I down all of it in several gulps.

“I do believe,” I say when I finally come up for air, “that might have been a good step towards making friends rather than allies or enemies.”

His gaze focuses on me for several beats and I watch as the curve of his full lips curl at the edges to form a smile. Theos rolls his tongue into one cheek as he turns his head and his attention falls to my throat and then further down before moving back to my face. “You don’t take orders well,” he repeats.

“Agreed.” I shrug. “Not only do I not take orders well, I hardly take suggestions well either. Unfortunately, I don’t see that changing much in the near future.”

He snorts, turning his cheek as his hand comes up to cover his lips—as if he can’t believe he made that sound. He shakes his head. “You’ll need to learn to hide it, at the very least,” he says. “Or risk death.” Theos heaves a great breath and at the mention of death, his head dips and his shoulders lower. “It’s up to you, I suppose, but it does make a man wonder why you’re even in a place such as the Academy when you obviously don’t belong. Not when you could be anywhere else in the world.”

I detect a note of envy in that last statement, but out of respect for already pushing him to some sort of invisible limit, I ignore it.

“So long as I’m in need of money, everywhere is the same,” I reply. It’s not a lie, though, of course, but it is a bit misleading.

“Ah.” He nods as if he understands. “So, it’s the money, then, that brought you to the Academy. I always thought humans simply wanted to worship their Gods and Masters, but that makes sense for you.” His eyes move to me and then away again. “You do seem more the logical type.”

I smirk and reach out, cupping my hand over the top of the back of the chair. Theos’ head whips towards me as I lean down into his face. My braid flutters against my skin, the soft strands a minor sensory itch to the increasing awareness of my position. “Why are you so concerned about it?” I ask. “Do you want there to be another reason?”

Those golden eyes of his flash pitch black before returning to their original color. It happens so quickly that I blink and wonder if I didn’t imagine it. Have my eyes ever done that? I wonder. I’ve never had anyone to ask and those that might’ve noticed have never mentioned something such as that.

“Do not play games with me, mortal girl,” he warns, voice deepening into a growl. A hand grazes my hip and I glance down at the movement just as he locks it around my side and yanks me suddenly into his embrace.

The glass flies out of my other hand and shatters against the floor as I’m thrust upon his lap, my legs encasing either side of his. I move to stand back up immediately, but he anchors me to him with his other hand, holding my waist tight enough that I flinch at the pressure. He doesn’t even realize that any ordinary human girl would walk away from this encounter with bruises, or worse, broken bones.

“You tempt me, Kiera Nezerac,” he whispers, the heat of his breath mere inches from my face. He smells of rum and spice. “I think you do it on purpose.”

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