Page 43 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

“Tryphone wishes to set you up with another God from the Council for tutoring,” he says as he lifts his fingers away from the piece.

My spine straightens and my eyes flash from the board to his face, but he’s not looking at me. He’s still looking at the damn pawn. “Who?” I demand when he doesn’t elaborate further.

“I am not sure yet,” he admits. “Though, if I were to choose, myself, I think it might do you some good to speak with a female God. Perhaps Makeda or … Danai would also be a good choice.”

I want to spend one on one time with the Queen of the Gods about as much as I want to toss myself out a window. I sit forward in my seat and place my elbows on the edge of the stone table.

“Is this what you consider tutoring or are you just here to torture me with information you’ll never fully give me?” My tone is sharp. It’s definitely not how anyone of a lower status—Mortal God or not—should speak to a God.

Unsurprisingly, though, Caedmon doesn’t admonish me. He simply gestures to the board and says, “Your move.”

With gritted teeth, I turn my attention to the checkered mat. I consider my choice for a moment. In chess, there are few ways to start but many to end. Though it’s a game of strategy, it’s a board with pieces and a finite number of endings. There are only two players and therefore only two choices.

I move a pawn and return my attention to Caedmon. “Do you truly think I can pull off what you want me to, especially without the full details?” I’m careful not to speak the truth aloud. Though it seems as if we’re alone, I know I’m not the only one who has familiars, and with Tryphone on the Academy grounds—as well as the God Council—I’m not taking any chances with my own life that I don’t have to.

Caedmon doesn’t answer immediately, instead moving his rook up right behind his pawn. I roll my eyes and move another pawn. Finally, after what feels like an untold number of seconds that have passed in tense silence, Caedmon’s next turn ends and he raises his gaze.

“I know that you can do what needs to be done,” he says, his words just as discreet. “I do not doubt your skills, Kiera. Both what you have learned and what power you have naturally will aid you in this quest.”

“There is no quest,” I snap and his eyes flicker up to meet mine. “This is not a storybook. This is my life—the life of dozens, hundreds of others.”

“Try hundreds of thousands.” Caedmon’s full dark lips pinch downward as his face takes on a contemplative look.

My jaw tightens in irritation. “Tell me what the taboo is,” I order. “What have the Gods?—”

“No.”

The exposed skin over my face and neck grows tight. “Then I can’t help you.”

“You can and you will,” he says, his attention returning to the board between us. “I did not invite you here to discuss what your future will be.”

“Then what did you?—”

He doesn’t let me finish the question, sitting forward and steepling his hands together in front of him. “Have you felt any different since the brimstone was removed?” he asks, his voice lowering until it’s a strain to hear it.

My eyes dart from side to side, but there’s no one else here other than the plants. Almost as if my body is responding to Caedmon’s words, that earlier buzzing under my skin comes to life again. The wave of pinpricks roll over my shoulder blades, up my arms, and down my thighs.

“Different … how?” It’s my turn to move and my eyes focus on the pieces in front of me. No one has been taken yet, all the porcelain black and white miniature statues are still there. My mind, however, is eons away.

“The more powerful of the God children have control over various elements,” Caedmon says instead of giving me a true answer. “Familiars are a sign of an exceedingly powerful Mortal God.”

Mortal God. One corner of my mouth turns up in sardonic amusement. When he’s not a God at all. None of them are according to him.

“Mastery over elements comes with certain physical reactions,” he continues when I don’t speak. “Brimstone is the one thing that can stifle those abilities.”

“I still had them,” I say, looking up. “Even with the brimstone.”

“Yes, you did.”

The buzzing grows louder, filling my ears. A dull pain begins to throb behind my eyes. I plant my hands on the edge of the table and lean forward. Lifting one, I take my rook and shift it closer to one of his pawns. One more move and it’ll be mine.

“Whose garden is this?” I ask, changing topics.

Caedmon blinks, and for the first time, I think I’ve actually surprised him. I try not to let the satisfaction show on my face, but it’s hard. Brown eyes flash down to the board and then back to me again. A beat passes and then he moves the pawn closer to my rook.

I narrow my eyes on the placement of his piece before I take it, lifting the now captured pawn in my hand.

“The owner of this garden is a friend,” is all he says as I turn the porcelain shape over in my palm, watching the false light smooth over its surface.

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