Page 35 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

“Why would mothers leave their children on the Academy steps?”

With a sigh, I sit up and pull myself away from her heat. Kiera lifts herself from my lap and though I want to stab myself for the reaction, my body mourns the loss of her. I keep my gaze trained on her face as she stands and turns to face me. Her silver hair pours over one side of her chest, hanging in long waves.

The rumble of thunder echoes in the distance—sounding as if it’s growing further away despite the rain still slapping against the glass.

“Many mortal women leave children they believe are of the Gods on the steps of the Academy if they don’t wish to be acknowledged as their parents. Gods do not marry mortal women. Any relationship a God might have with a mortal is purely physical, rarely anything more. Many of the women become bitter or angry and don’t wish to keep their children.” Or so I’ve always been told. The lies of the Gods make me wonder if anything they’ve ever said is true, but then I think of Theos and I know, sometimes the truth is worse than the lie.

Kiera is quiet for a moment and then she shifts to the side and the mattress sags with her slight weight as she takes a seat next to me. “Your mother didn’t do that.”

It’s not a question, but I still answer. “No,” I agree. “She didn’t.”

“Did Kalix’s?” The lightning flashes have moved away, but even in the dim interior of the bedroom, I can still see her face and her eyes as they lift to meet mine.

“No.” Olivia had been obsessed with the idea of being Azai’s wife. Though she never cared for me, even now, I still feel a twinge of pity and sorrow for her and her end.

“What about Theos’ mom?”

I press my lips together and return my focus to Kiera’s face. “Why do you wish to know?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Well, this is the first time I’ve ever really been able to talk about being a Mortal God and ask about parentage with anyone that might actually have some answers—or be willing to give them to me,” she says.

“Your father never…” I let the question trail off when she answers before I’m finished speaking.

“No, of course not.” She snorts as if the very idea is amusing to her. She turns her eyes away from mine and looks down, picking at the hem of her borrowed tunic. I force myself not to stare after the initial look. “I think he still loved her—my mom, whoever she was—but he didn’t like talking about her with me. So, I don’t know what she did. If she stayed during a time before I can remember or if she left immediately. It’s also a little different, too, the fact that your God parent was male and mine was female.”

“I know there are places where young Mortal Gods are kept before their powers have manifested,” she continues. “I heard as much after I joined the Underworld, though I’d never seen them. Do the children who are left at the Academies go there?”

“Yes.” Cold, dank, dark places those facilities are. Disgusting and foul. My upper lip curls back from my teeth on instinct as I remember the hovel of a room Darius, Kalix, and I had found Theos in. “It isn’t a place fit for children—mortal or mortal god.”

Kiera’s head lifts. “You weren’t in one of those, were you? I thought Azai found you and your mother?”

Shock cuts through me deeper than any blade and my hands clamp into fists on the mattress’s edge in an effort not to rip her up from her seat and demand she tell me where she gained that information. Slowly, I turn my head to peer at her. “And how would you know that?” My words are colder than ice as they slice from my throat.

Kiera stares back at me, eyes clear of any fear as she answers. “The Gods talked about it,” she admits. “Your father is on the Council and it was mentioned that he was forced to track you and your mother down and…” She pauses, her brows pinching down as she bites her lower lip.

My eyes shoot to the little depression there—her white teeth flashing as they sink into the petal pink color of her mouth. I want to see those lips wrapped around my—fuck! No. My attention returns to her eyes and creased brow.

“And. What?” I demand, growling the words as I feel something sinister curl through my gut. It’s the same darkness that lives within my brothers, a likely curse from our father’s blood—a cruelty that I refuse to acknowledge.

When I expect her to look away, she doesn’t. Her eyes lock with mine. Open and intense as if she’s testing herself to see if she can hold my gaze. I have to admit, she does a damn good job. “Your punishment,” she says, the words a near whisper.

A muscle jumps beneath the skin of my neck, right next to the pounding beat of my heart. As if she hears it, Kiera’s eyes move down to the side of my throat before returning to mine once more. Whereas someone else would be smug about that knowledge—might mistake knowing who I received the scar on my face from as a weakness—she doesn’t even seem particularly interested in that.

I let more silence pass between us, each second ticking by as the storm outside drifts further and further away and the shadows in the room shift as the clouds part and moonlight peers inside. Finally, I break that silence.

“No,” I tell her. “I was not one of the children left outside of the Academies. Neither was Kalix.” I release the edge of the mattress and stand, striding across the room to the armoire.

“What about Theos?” she asks as I open the door and reach inside for one of the many extra blankets kept there. I withdraw two.

“What about Theos?” I repeat, shooting the question back at her.

She growls in frustration and the sound makes my lips twitch in rare amusement. No wonder my brothers both seem so obsessed with her. She brings life back to the cold dead thing that resides in my chest and has since my mother let herself die for my sake.

“Was he or was he not abandoned on the steps of the Academy?”

At her words, I shut the armoire one-handed and a bit harder than necessary before carrying the blankets across the room towards the window settee. “That’s something you’ll have to ask him,” I reply coolly. “His story is his own and not mine to tell.”

“You—what are you doing?” Her tone changes as I get to the settee and drop the blankets onto the thin cushions that stretch the length of the window.

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