Page 80 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

Vomit threatens to scorch a path up my throat. I swallow it down and turn towards Theos. He bows his head. My hand shakes as I push his hair out of the way to draw an ancient rune with the blood on my fingertip into the skin of his brow. The red liquid turns brown and then black almost immediately as soon as it touches him. He feels colder than he should be, or perhaps it’s simply that my skin is on fire.

Theos nods to me and turns to Kalix, doing the same for him. Around the circle we go, until it’s my turn and I press my head downward to allow Ruen to draw the rune upon my own brow, now sticky with even more sweat. The burn of the blood sears my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut as my hands clamp into fists on my thighs.

Soon it will be over, I promise myself. This is the only way to ensure their silence, the only way to ensure the Underworld stays safe in light of my failure.

Once the ritual is over and each of the four of us are sitting there with a rune painted upon our heads, we—as one—whisper words of the ancient language that will ensure our bond in blood will remain long after we have washed the runes away. Though most humans don’t know the language that has been long dead, they know it because of their education here at the Mortal Gods Academy and I know it … because of Ophelia.

Flames erupt within my head, and despite myself, a cry of pain emerges from my throat. I cut it off a second later when I see Ruen reach for me, pain clear on his face. I jerk away from him, shaking my head. Seconds pass, feeling like an eternity and then it’s done.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I shoot to my feet and flee up the stairs to the bathing chamber. No one follows. I don’t expect them to. I wash the blackened blood off my flesh quickly, still feeling as if the rune has been burned into my skull despite the fact that when I look into the mirror to see my own reflection nothing but cool, pale skin remains. Then I grab a few cloths and wet them, carrying them back out into the main room.

Theos and Ruen take theirs without comment and wipe away the blood on their foreheads, but Kalix is mysteriously missing. I glance down to the table, realizing that the blood contract supplies have disappeared. So, not so mysteriously missing anymore, I guess as I hear the door above creak and he appears out of his room for a moment, glancing over the rim of the railing before he disappears into the washroom.

I toss his wet cloth onto the table and sink into the chair I’d occupied before with a heavy breath. A minute later, Kalix appears at the railing again and descends to the bottom floor to retake his seat.

“Now.” Ruen leans forward and props his elbows on his knees as he fixes me with a dark, expectant look. “Tell us the truth, Kiera Nezerac,” he demands. “Who are you?”

I take a long breath and then another and another, none of them feeling as if they are truly reaching my lungs. No turning back now. The three of them agreed to the blood contract and it’s the only assurance I’ll get that once I open my mouth and tell them the truth, they won’t immediately drag me before the Gods to be punished and executed.

Still, I spent years under Ophelia’s tutelage. Years, trained to keep my mouth shut. The words don’t come easily. “I,” I begin, annoyed by the slight tremble in that single syllabic sound. “I was born in the Hinterlands.”

Starting at the beginning, I feel, is the best choice. From the night my father died, to being sold to the assassination Guild, to the deal I’d made with Ophelia, and, finally, the job that had led me to the Mortal Gods Academy. I tell them everything.

Each word feels like hot vomit spilling from my throat. They scorch my insides and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that Ophelia was a Goddess, herself, who had a spell upon me that made revealing these secrets painful.

I tell them about what little I know of my abilities and my God parent—my mother—whom I never actually knew. The three of them remain silent as each admittance leaves my throat like broken glass crawling up from my insides. Each truth, however, leaves me feeling less and less burdened. As if a weight I hadn’t known was sitting on my chest is being lifted away.

I’ve never unburdened myself like this. Never admitted everything to someone that didn’t help keep me silent. When I’m done, there’s an emptiness within the chambers of my ribcage that I’ve never had before. As if my own body is a bird cage that’s held dozens of the fluttering little animals for years and now I’ve let the door open and they’ve all flown away.

Exhaustion clings to every piece of me. Aranea scampers off Theos’ lap and returns to my side. I lay my palm flat on the cushion of the chair and she crawls onto it, tapping her fuzzy leg as I lift her up to my shoulder. Sympathy and care brushes at the edges of my mind—her emotions pushing into me. I close my eyes and push back my gratitude. She responds by nuzzling the skin at the side of my neck.

Theos is the first to speak, his gaze directed to Ruen. “What now?” he asks.

Isn’t that the million denza question? I think snidely to myself. What happens to the four of us now that they know my secrets? Now that they’re bound by the blood contract to commit treason and keep it to themselves?

Before Ruen can respond, though, bells ring out. Ruen and Theos both leap to their feet, their gazes turned out to the window. The sound of the bells echoes as Kalix slumps back against the lounge he’s on and groans, loud and long.

“Battles?” Theos asks, glancing at Ruen.

Ruen shakes his head. “No, it’s been too soon since the last one.”

My muscles coil with tension. The bells are a warning, a signal of something. “They’re calling us to the arena,” Kalix murmurs, sounding put out as he lifts his head and pouts—actually fucking pouts. The damned psycho.

“How do you know that?” I demand. Why would they be calling the Academy to the arena if it’s too soon for another battle?

Kalix cracks his neck to the side as he pushes one hand flat to the cushion beneath him and leverages up. “Because,” he says, “that’s where we always go when they have an unscheduled announcement to make.”

An unscheduled announcement? Fear bolts through me and I pass a glance to the door. Before I can take a step towards it, Ruen is there, flashing by me in a blink and blocking my path. “Do not run, Kiera,” he orders, eyes flecked with sharp spots of red. “It will only be worse for you in the end. If they knew then they wouldn’t have called the entire Academy.”

His words ease the tautness in my limbs but only marginally. “What do we do then?”

“We have to go,” Theos says. “It would be suspicious otherwise.”

I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all. Ruen turns his gaze down to my dirtied clothes. “You should have a uniform delivered to your room by now,” he says. “Go change. Hurry.”

Theos moves, shaking off his earlier emotions as he moves away from the lounges and the roaring fire that now feels too hot. “We should change as well, just in case,” he says.

“It’s not the battles,” Kalix comments absently, repeating Ruen’s words without moving from his spot.

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