Page 25 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

Maeryn tips her head to the side as if she can hear something beyond the door. Her lips curl down and a moment later she speaks. “Kalix is back,” she says, “and they're waiting for you now.” She turns to help Niall gather up the things she had him retrieve for her. The waves of her copper hair fall over her face as she bends to shut the wooden box and gather up a few of the brushes that had fallen to the floor. “I’ll return to my dorm, and with any hope and luck, I suspect I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not coming?”

Maeryn pauses and lifts her head even as she passes the brushes over to Niall. A pink tongue peeks out to slide across her lower lip in a nervous tick as she fists her hands in her skirts and lifts them. “Niall, why don’t you head back after you drop those off in my room,” she suggests.

Guilt eats at me when Niall glances between us, his lips thinning into a mutinous line that clearly shows he doesn’t want to agree, but even if I’m a Mortal God, he’s not. At the end of this, Niall is still just a Terra and he has no right to refuse his mistress. Cold silence follows Maeryn’s kindly worded but no less potent demand. A minute passes as Niall finishes collecting the last of their things and then disappears out the door, letting it snick shut behind him.

“I know it makes me a coward,” she starts, “and as much as I wish things were different…” Seafoam eyes lift to meet mine. “I can’t be implicated in the discovery of you, Kiera. I can’t be attached to that. In private, I can be your friend, but in public … I’m not the only one I have to look out for. Niall has already had issues with the other Terra and if I were to get in trouble, he might?—”

I cut her off with a lifted hand. “He will never have those issues again,” I say. “But you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I appreciate it, I do. I understand. You want to protect him.” And as much as it hurts to learn that she can’t acknowledge me in public as a friend, at least not right away, I do understand.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as her shoulders shrink, curling inward. “Why don’t I help you dress before you head out?” she offers and I suspect it’s how she wants to apologize.

Despite that, I shake my head and wave her off. “No, I’ll be okay,” I say. “I think I want some time to myself to prepare.”

She presses her lips together, and though I can tell she wants to insist, she doesn’t. Instead, she nods and turns towards the door. I frown, though, as she pauses and then—before I can blink—she whirls back and wraps her arms around me. “It’ll be okay,” she says, whispering into my hair as she holds me tight. “I may not have the power of prophecy, but I believe it. You’re strong and you’re going to be okay.”

Stunned, and a little uncomfortable with the sudden burst of physical affection, I stand there for a moment, unresponsive to the hug. When she merely squeezes me tighter, though, I finally lift my arms and return the sentiment of care.

Sniffing hard as she withdraws her arms, Maeryn absently flicks a lock of my hair that fell out of the braid off my shoulder and nods. Then, without any further interruptions or embraces, she leaves the bedroom.

I stand there for a few more seconds, just breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I try to keep the panic at bay. In and out. In and out. I think back to that place I created in the back of my mind, the place that made everything better, that could always protect me from Ophelia’s lessons or my own rage and fear.

My soul seems to settle more deeply into my bones with each passing breath. In and out. In and out.

I want to believe Maeryn. I want to live. I also can’t put this off for any longer.

Opening my eyes, I look at the dress that she’d laid out for me to change into on Kalix’s rumpled sheets. Stripping out of the robe I’d donned after I’d finished with the drying sheet, I grab ahold of the gown and lift it for my perusal. The delicate lace and chiffon fabric wouldn’t be my first choice when meeting the God Council for the first time, but I know there’s a reason behind it. Shaking my head, I stop stalling and pull it on, twisting slightly as I grip the laces that come around the front to line up directly beneath my breasts and finish tightening and tying them off. The long midnight colored skirts are a blend of blue and purple that make my skin seem brighter and whiter than ever before. The silver laces around my middle, at the ends of my sleeves, and decorating the square neckline match my hair.

To the side of the bed, I spot a pair of matching silver slippers. The top of each shoe looks like crushed diamonds as I hold them up to the light from the window. Each of them is adorned with more silver laces and when I slip my feet into the soles, I realize they’re meant to tie up the length of my calves.

Once I’m done, I feel as though I’ve taken both a lifetime and not enough time at all to get ready. There’s nothing left to do though except meet my fate—whatever it may be.

So, instead of stalling any further, I stand from the edge of the bed and head for the door. It creaks open, and what little conversation I’d dimly heard below cuts off immediately. I step out closer to the railing and look down into the Darkhavens’ main room.

Kalix, Theos, and Ruen all stand there in their own suits—each looking like they belong in the window of some famous seamstress’s shop. I don’t know where Kalix got his, since he didn’t have access to his room, but considering that the color is a deep purple, I suspect it might have come from Ruen.

Three sets of eyes land on me, one midnight, one gold, and one a deep green. My stomach drops out from beneath me. Fear and some other emotion I’m not quite ready to name yet.

“Kiera?” Theos is the first to speak and to move. He nears the end of the staircase. “Are you alright?”

“Are you feeling lightheaded?” Ruen asks, his brow furrowing.

I shake my head and move towards the top of the stairs. “No,” I lie, not wanting them to know how I’m feeling because the reason isn’t one I want to examine. “I’m fine.”

“Maeryn said she told you that?—”

“The Gods are waiting,” I say, cutting Ruen off as he frowns.

Though it wasn’t a question, he nods. “They know you’re awake,” he says. “They expect to see you.”

“And they’re not willing to wait anymore,” I guess.

Theos scowls. “We can send a note to Caedmon if you’re not ready,” he says quickly. “We didn’t even get to tell you ourselves. We planned to, it just?—”

Not ready? When would I ever be ready to face the Gods as … not a Terra but as myself. My real self. Divinity—or magic—and all.

Whatever Theos means to say, however, is cut off by a low, dry chuckle. At once, all of our attentions turn to the source of the caustic amusement. Green and flecks of red glitter in Kalix’s gaze as he shifts his gaze up to me. My hand wraps around the railing, practically strangling it as the skin over my knuckles whitens.

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