Page 19 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

Unlike the Mortal Gods of the Academy, I’d never been given any formal education in a setting quite like this. All I knew came from Ophelia’s books or the various members of her guild. An assassins’ guild might not seem like the place for those of intelligent natures to convene, but good assassins—those that make it to old age and don’t die on the job as many do—are scions of wisdom.

Newbies like Regis and I hadn’t been officially welcomed, certainly not initially. Once we’d both proven that we wouldn’t die so easily or fail Ophelia’s harsh training, though, the elder assassins had taken us under their wings. We’d learned as much as we could from them. Street smarts. Book smarts—or at least how to fake book smarts if needed.

The kind of education the Darkhavens are receiving, however, is vastly different from what I experienced. It’s colder and more detached. I’d appreciated my lessons with the other assassins and had mourned them when they hadn’t made it back from jobs even if I’d gotten accustomed to losing people. The Gods of the Academy hardly seem to care about their students at all.

Save for this God—Caedmon. As if sensing my fixated interest, Caedmon reaches up to one of the shelves and flicks his fingers. A book wiggles against the wood and then shuffles out of its resting place high above our heads then slowly, it flutters down, floating right into Caedmon’s waiting palm.

“A History of the Hinterlands,” he reads the title before tossing me a small smile. “I thought you might like to read this.”

His arm arches out, holding the dusty leather-bound volume out for me. “Me?” I say even as I take it from him. I hold the book between my hands, feeling the coating of ancient grime on its surface. The stiffness of its binding and the dusty feel of the pages poking out of its sides.

“You’re from the Hinterlands,” Caedmon states, not a question. “It’s important to know where it is you came from.”

“I—”

“As part of your punishment, I’ll be giving you various reading materials while you assist me within the library,” Caedmon interrupts, cutting me off before I can explain to him that I highly doubt either of my parents is from the Hinterlands. Certainly not my mother since she’s a God much like him, but I doubt my father, who’d had no parents himself, had lived and survived the Hinterlands as a child. No, he’d most likely moved there because of me, to keep me safe and hidden.

“There will be days I won’t be able to visit the library,” he continues. “On those days, I will leave a note with the Terra who maintain this library when I don’t request privacy as I have today. You are still to come and whatever I have written on those notes, you’ll be required to do.”

“Are you going to punish me if I don’t get the tasks done?” I ask the question, not necessarily concerned with punishment, but more curious of his response.

Caedmon arches a brow at me. “I do not punish those who have not earned it,” he states.

“If I don’t complete your requests,” I reply, “then wouldn’t that mean I’ve earned it?”

He turns fully to face me, both brows drawing down as they furrow now. The expression on his face turns from surprised curiosity to deep confusion. “I know that you think poorly of Divine Beings, Kiera Nezerac—”

A breath shoots up my lungs and I bow my head instinctively. “No, sir, I—”

Caedmon holds up a hand, stopping my denial. “I humbly request that you refrain from lying in my presence, child.”

I clamp my lips shut. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Heartbeat galloping inside my chest, I bite down on my tongue and pray that whatever he decides to do isn’t too bad. Though I’m nearly two weeks after the lashing, I still feel the phantom pain of Axlan’s whip cutting through my flesh and muscle, almost down to my bone in some places. The skin might be healing, but the ache remains.

He knows. The harsh bite of fear claws at the back of my head. Vicious talons carve into my bones, ripping my insides to shreds as it consumes me. Bile rises up my throat, thick and hot and violent.

“Kiera, look at me.” Caedmon’s command is followed by a burst of his persuasion, the words wrapping around my head with invisible strength and forcing my gaze upward to greet his. “Calm yourself, child,” he says. His eyes soften, but I can’t allow myself to trust them. “Take a breath.”

I gasp as I suck in air.

“Release it,” he orders. I do, and the world stops tilting, the room no longer vibrating with the need to spin. “Good.” He nods approvingly. “You’re alright. There’s no need to panic. Unlike my fellow Gods, I am not going to punish you for feeling anything such as resentment.”

Shock, ripe and powerful, consumes me. He isn’t going to punish me? Something of my thoughts must show on my face because his lips lift into a sad sort of smile—the kind of expression one might force upon oneself to comfort another but the brightness of it never quite reaches his eyes.

“I am old,” Caedmon tells me. “Far older than many know, and I see much farther than even Tryphone knows. Past. Present. Future. They are all connected by the strings of fate. I understand why you feel the way that you do and I cannot comprehend the pain you must have suffered to get to where you are now.”

How much does he know? My mind riots, demanding the answers I’m afraid to find. Cold beads of sweat pop up along my back and over the nape of my neck. My skin feels as if it’s covered in a thin layer of frost. My heart, despite the breathing, is still racing in my breast, wild and uncontrolled. I continue to breathe evenly, forcing my body to maintain at least some semblance of control and calm, no matter how difficult it is.

“I asked you to visit me here, to help me with my research to give you time,” Caedmon continues.

“Time for what?” My lips tremble with the effort it takes for me to voice the question. I’m not entirely sure if it’s dangerous or not to ask it, but the need to know overwhelms everything else.

“Time to heal,” Caedmon replies, unperturbed by my inquiry. “Time to consider what to do with the rest of your life—if you will rise to the challenges that will soon come before you or if you will turn away from them.”

Challenges? What fucking challenges? Haven’t I had enough of those? Haven’t I done enough? Why can’t I just be released from my contract and debt to the Underworld and disappear back into the Hinterlands? Scalding hot tears burn at the back of my eyes at the futility that weighs heavily upon my shoulders, warning me that this won’t be as easy as I once thought. It’s both a threat and a cruel tease just beyond my reach.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Caedmon says. “I merely ask that you read that and give me your thoughts on it when we next meet.” He gestures to the book still clutched in my hands.

I’d forgotten it entirely, but at his movement, I glance down and squeeze my fingers around the side of the volume. “Yes, Your Divinity,” I say, bowing my head again.

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