Page 25 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

With another snap of my finger, the familiars I keep in the shadows slip from the cracks of my room. I push my thoughts into theirs, directing them to do my bidding, and they slither back, disappearing into the darkness as they follow my silent commands.

I bite down on my lip as I sink onto the end of my bed and put my hands back to prop myself up. There is a part of me—a small sane part that has constantly had to fight for space inside my head—that rears up and tells me I’m wrong, that it can’t be possible.

It is, though. I know it deep in my soul.

Kiera Nezerac—the Terra assigned to my brothers and me—is not at all what she claims to be. She was there that night in Mineval, she was in Talmatia’s castle. She was the one who’d slashed her blade over my eyes to hide her identity and now I know why.

My smart, wicked little thief. Sweet liar.

More laughter bubbles up out of my chest and this time, I don’t stop it. I laugh and I laugh, letting the delight of this new piece of information clicking into place devour me.

I’ve never met someone quite as reckless as myself. Theos might attempt to assuage my need for companionship every once in a while—but he cares far too much for that to truly be the case. He cares if he lives or dies.

But for Kiera, a Mortal God, I think as her name echoes in my head—coming into a Mortal Gods Academy masquerading as a Terra, a human of all things … this is beyond reckless.

I’d wondered at her scent. I knew somewhere, deep down, that I’d smelled her essence before. It’d been that night all those months ago in Talmatia’s forgotten courtyard where Kiera had spirited away the imprisoned humans. Dangerous, audacious, and brash.

Now I know why it’d felt so wrong, why she’d seemed so much different—so much braver than any human that had come before her. She’s a dichotomy like we are. Human and God.

That is why she seems to move so fast sometimes. The way she’d held the dagger at my throat lingers in the back of my mind and as my laughter finally tapers off as I run out of breath, I reach a hand up and finger the now dried blood crusted on my neck, my lips pulling into another smile.

A fresh rush of excitement buzzes through my bloodstream, vibrating the liquid in my body and spreading to my bones. Just as quickly, though, that surge of euphoria at this new puzzle I’ve found fades.

I lower my hand back to the bed and sit up straighter. More than simply being a hidden Mortal God and a lying Terra, Kiera is holding an entirely different kind of secret. The piece of brimstone I’d felt in the back of her neck shouldn’t have been there—not just that, but it should be impossible for a Mortal God to live with the stone embedded within them.

For all the Gods have warned us, for all that we—ourselves—have dealt with the stone and its effects on Divine blood, to have a shard beneath the skin for long periods of time … it would cause illness. A wasting sickness that she hadn’t shown any symptoms of. Instead, she’d peered up at me, eyes wide and worried even if she’d tried to mask it.

I don’t give a fuck if the Gods have forbidden hidden God children. Those old fuckers can all choke on their own cocks. Knowing that my brothers have no idea of the creature in our midst is by far the most amusing part of it all.

The brimstone piece in her neck, however, is one piece that perplexes me. Is it how she’s remained hidden for so long? How had she done it? Someone had to have done it for her. The place my fingers had grazed it was in too specific a spot.

Dark rage blooms in my chest. The shard had felt like a lock on her body, as if it was the back of a collar—one she could never take off.

Kiera Nezerac might be an undocumented Mortal God, but her secrets span further than that simple fact. And now that I know just how unusual she is, the allure of keeping her close won’t be assuaged.

Whatever she came here for, whatever her goal is, she’ll soon find that I have my own plans for the lying little thief.

Chapter 16

Kiera

Soft scratching noises follow the sound of quills against paper as they filter up to the vaulted dome ceiling of the Academy’s library several days after that odd encounter with Kalix. I’ve managed to keep to the routine schedule that Dauphine gave me—including following the Darkhavens to their classes and returning after sword practice to this place. The only difference between the other days and now is the fact that Caedmon isn’t here today.

In his absence, the Terra that run the library—compiling their volumes for any student or instructor who requests them and cares for the dusty collection—are my prison guards. Not that I’m considering this place a true prison. No, in fact, the Academy stacks, filled with various books and bits and pieces of knowledge gathered from across the continent, is more of a haven than anything else. I’ve grown accustomed to the scent of parchment and ink.

I turn another page, flipping through the books that had been slapped down on the table in front of me when I’d arrived for my shift. The library Terra are vastly different from the ones that spend their days in the rest of the Academy. Most are older, with wrinkled hands and faces and cold eyes. They don’t seem to be all that interested in me—not in avoiding or running away at least. They merely set about their tasks and give me the details of Caedmon’s requests before flitting off to do whatever it is that they do. Returning books to their rightful places, cleaning the shelves, etcetera.

The sound of quill pens scratching against paper continues to fill the air and I stretch back, pushing away from the table as I bend a bit over the spine of my chair. I reach up and thread my fingers together, arching them above my head as I try to return the feeling to my limbs.

A book closes nearby with a loud and meaningful thump. I look over my shoulder, noting that the Terra that had given me these books and informed me that I was asked to read them all and write mini reports on each for Caedmon’s research is eyeing me with a suspicious look.

Sylvis is her name and though she’s closer to middle-aged than to youth or old age, her lean face is clean and unmarred by any makeup. Despite the sharp twist of gold and silver hair tied at the back of her head, creating a more severe expression than I expect she’d have without it, I have to acknowledge that she’s a pretty woman. The coal-lined lashes flick up and then back down as she examines me from my stretching arms to my book stack—with more unread than read.

Her gaze narrows and she clicks her tongue before gesturing for me to get back to work. I blow out a breath, and a few strands of silver hair hanging in my face flutter up and then down as I turn back to the table and the remaining books. A grimace overtakes me as I look at all that I have left.

Either Caedmon is far crueler than I originally suspected or he’s planning on being away from the library for several days. Otherwise, there’s no way I’d be able to read this amount in the span of a single shift. I settle my gaze back on the book in front of me and re-read the passage I’ve already forgotten before making a note on the parchment that had accompanied the books.

I’m almost at the blessed end of the criminally dull book when a flurry of sounds distract me from my task. Lifting my head in the hopes of something to call me away from it, I feel them crash and burn as I catch sight of a familiar male walking through the shelves of books, heading in my direction. I have no doubt he’s here for me, but I’d much rather shove my head into the book detailing the rise of farming and agriculture than talk to Ruen Darkhaven. Goat shit is far more appealing.

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