Page 73 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

I suck in a breath and narrow my eyes on the most unhinged of the Darkhaven brothers. “You can’t torture one either,” I grit out.

Another groan and he collapses back into his chair. “What is the point of being so powerful if I’m not allowed to have any Gods damned fun?” he demands.

When no one answers him, he withdraws another blade that, until this moment, had been completely hidden somewhere on his body. The distinct thwip thwip of his return to the flipping of the blade into the air and catching it is all that lingers in the air until Theos speaks.

“Why can’t Caedmon just tell us what the prophecies are instead of giving you a book that only gives hints?” he asks.

“He said it’s something about his ability—a barrier,” I answer him. “I guess if he were to tell us straight out what the prophecies are or what the future is, it would change and he wouldn’t be able to help us at all.”

Despite my words and the fact that I do now understand where Caedmon is coming from, Theos’ frustration matches my own.

“Divinity is complicated, but it does have its own laws,” Ruen says with a nod. “So that makes sense.”

I look at him. “It does?”

“Yes.” Ruen’s eyes lower to the pages of the book, one thumb hooked between two of them, but holding the current side in place as he stares at the names listed there. “Even the Gods have to answer for their powers. It’s why Axlan needs victory. Why Dolos needs oppression. Why Maladesia is in charge of raising young Mortal Gods—they need praise as much as she needs to give it. The Gods are controlled by their abilities and they have to continue to feed them.”

“But … why doesn’t the same apply to the Mortal Gods?” The sounds of Kalix’s dagger toss and catch cease. All eyes turn to me. I look around the room. “What?” I demand, frowning at the three of them.

“What did you just say?” Ruen’s question isn’t so much a question as it is a command worded as one.

“Mortal Gods don’t have to feed their powers the same way the Gods do, unless … they do?”

Gold, green, and midnight gazes clash. “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Theos murmurs as Kalix gets up and his dagger disappears back beneath his clothes.

“She’s right though,” Ruen says. “We don’t need to feed our abilities like the Gods.”

Kalix strides across the room, cutting through the throng of us until he’s at the wall and jerking his earlier blade from its place in the wall. “What does that mean?” he asks, turning to face us.

“I don’t know,” Ruen admits, “but it could be another reason why they’ve made it a crime to hide Mortal Gods, why they’ve ensured that all God blood children are sent to their academies.”

“Does it matter if we need to feed our powers or not?” I ask as I fold my arms across my chest. “The fact still remains, Gods are naturally more powerful than we are.”

“Are they?” The silence that follows Ruen’s quiet question is loud enough to be a sound on its own.

The four of us remain still and silent long after the echo of Ruen’s voice has dispersed from the air. If the Gods need to feed their power and we don’t … does that mean that their rules do not apply to us?

“Caedmon said that they lied about mortals being able to kill them,” I whisper, half afraid of disturbing the odd sort of dark peace that hovers between us. “He said they aren’t Gods at all.”

“And if they’ll lie about that, then what else have they lied about?” Ruen offers.

Our eyes meet and clash.

“Can we even trust the knowledge of them needing to feed their powers?” Theos asks.

Kalix nods. “Yes, I believe so. I don’t think that’s a lie.”

“Why?” I jerk my attention to him. “What do you know?”

Kalix is frowning as he settles his hands on his hips and stares down, though I know from the look on his face—more concentrated than it’s ever been—that he’s not seeing just the floor. “Hatzi,” he states.

I try to remember which God he’s speaking of. “The God of Travel?”

He nods. “Hatzi went with me when I was taken to Talmatia’s region, Mineval.” My spine stiffens as cool green eyes lift and his lips twitch.

I should’ve stabbed him harder and twisted. As if he senses my thoughts, his smile widens.

“Why is that of any import?” Ruen asks, disrupting the invisible battle of wills between us.

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