Page 85 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

Yes, there is something in this blood that is mine. Is it because my blood was added or is it because there’s something else calling to me?

All too suddenly, a hand grabs my arm and yanks me back, dragging me away from the chalice. Without looking to see who it is, I start to struggle. It’s not the action of an assassin, but of a deeply rooted animal desire to touch that which belongs to me.

Mine! The blood screams to me. You are mine and I am yours.

“Tryphone.” I recognize the voice that rumbles against my back as the man holding me yanks me yet another step away from the basin. “Did the ceremony work?”

No! My lips part, but nothing comes free. The tears I worked so hard to hold back before rush back to the surface.

“No.” The remark is from Danai, not Tryphone.

There is nothing but silence save for the harsh beastly noises that rise up from my throat. I have to touch it again. I was almost there. The secret was on the fringes of my mind, the truth I’ve spent twenty years not knowing right there.

“You said it would work,” Tryphone says, his voice the only thing that makes me stop fighting to get to the chalice.

“With all six of us here, it should have,” Danai replies.

“Perhaps your research was flawed,” Azai comments.

A sound of feminine fury and then … nothing. I sag against the chest of the man at my back. Caedmon’s scent, soft and clean, invades my nostrils, calming me further. A few more moments pass and each breath I draw away from the chalice brings me closer and closer to my natural being. I shake my head, trying to chase away the last lingering effects of the spell that had woven a dark, ancient power over my mind and body.

“What does this mean then?” Caedmon is the one to ask the question that I’m sure we’re all thinking.

If this ceremony didn’t work … then what are they to do next?

“Perhaps she is not of Divine blood,” Gygaea’s suggests, but almost as soon as the words are out of her mouth, Makeda is dissuading the rest of the Gods of that notion.

“We’ve kept our eyes on the girl since her presence was brought to our attention. Danai and I have both witnessed the evidence of her Divinity. There is no question that she is of Divine blood.”

“Then why didn’t the ceremony work?” Azai demands.

Caedmon’s hands are on my upper arms, keeping me stable as I stand amid six powerful beings. Shaking him off as I slide to the side and away from the haven of his arms—a safety I can’t allow myself to rely on—I eye the other beings in the room with narrow-eyed scrutiny. I knew there was a reason Danai and Makeda had borne witness to the mock battles during training, but I hadn’t known it was because they wanted to be sure that I was a Mortal God. I glance at Caedmon out of the corner of my eyes. Perhaps his status amongst the God Council isn’t as powerful as I’d once been led to believe. Not if the others weren’t quite convinced of his support of my heritage.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I remain silent as the Gods argue over whether or not the ceremony’s failure is a fault of my blood or the fact that it was never meant to work in the first place.

“Enough!” My whole body jolts at the dark rumble of Tryphone’s command.

All other sound ceases—even the light tap of wind against the glass above our heads goes quiet as if the world itself cannot help but bow to his orders.

“We will keep to the original plan,” Tryphone’s words hold no room for argument. “The Spring Equinox is but a mere two weeks away.” Cold eyes that hold the power of storm and lightning fall upon where I stand. Just like before, I react by fighting my own instincts to look away, to cow to the man who is far stronger than I will ever be. I meet the God King’s gaze.

His lips twitch as if amused, this time, rather than surprised by my show of silent defiance. I can sense the God Queen’s attention on my face, but I don’t turn to face her. To pay attention to another predator when one that is far more dangerous has me in its thrall would be the height of both arrogance and stupidity, and I am neither arrogant nor stupid.

“Then the Spring Equinox ceremony will continue forward,” Caedmon speaks, interrupting the disquieting force of wills between the God King and me with his words. “Perhaps this is for the best.”

Tryphone jerks his chin in agreement. Massive as he is, the God King looks once at his Queen before turning and striding from the room, and the moment he is gone, I feel as if the entire space has opened up. The air is easier to breathe and my insides don’t feel quite as riotous. I don’t move a muscle nor do I speak as Gygaea is the next to leave with Makeda quietly following after, offering me a passing glance as she exits the room. Azai scowls down at me and thunders past in a fury of stomps. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. The God of Strength is nothing if not a petulant child.

Nails score the sides of my arms as the last remaining male God moves past me, towards Danai. “I know you wished to uncover the secrets of her blood, my Queen,” Caedmon says. “I am sorry that the ceremony was a failure.”

Directing my attention past Caedmon’s shoulder, I meet the golden ringed gaze of the God Queen, her focus centered on me in such a way that it feels penetrating to my very soul. Her eyes hold untold stories, and though they seem benevolent, I have to remind myself of Caedmon’s words. The Gods are all liars and she is no different. Even if she is merely complicit in the oppression of the people of Anatol, the fact remains—Danai, the God Queen, has built her throne on the blood and bones of mortals. I squeeze my arms tighter to my chest.

“Yes,” she murmurs almost absently, as if it takes a moment longer than it should for Caedmon’s words to truly take root in her mind. “You may be right, Caedmon.” Her eyes never leave my face. “I shall discuss the Spring Equinox ceremony with Tryphone. I have the sense that this child holds a secret we all must know. He is right. Even if we must wait, two weeks is but a blink of time to us.”

Caedmon is good. Though I find him difficult to trust completely, I must acknowledge the fact that he is nothing if not unbending. Not by the flicker of an eyelash does he reveal what he knows. As the God of Prophecy, and what little he’s revealed to me, he already knows the secrets of my blood.

“Yes, my Queen.” Clasping a gentle hand on the God Queen’s arm, Caedmon bows his head in respect and silent agreement to her words. Then, without further hesitation, he releases her and turns to me. “Come,” he orders, striding past me towards the door. “I shall return you to your quarters.”

Chapter 37

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