Page 56 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

I must go hunting for it myself.

I stand abruptly. “I think this session is over,” I say, blinking as my blood rushes through me, speeding along my movements.

I need to find out the truth, and then, once I’ve decided what to do, I need to find out how to use the others. There are far more Mortal Gods than there are Gods. Using them isn’t a choice but a necessity. The greenhouse needs to be opened and the flowers need to be released from captivity. Only then can they truly grow into what they were meant to be.

Only then can the Gods’ oppression end.

Chapter 23

Theos

“Is Kalix not here?”

I unfold my arms and turn to greet the speaker of that question. Ruen looks a little worse for wear with his hair in disarray and his eyes sunken in a bit with shadows that have been growing for weeks creating a permanent place for themselves beneath the sockets.

“No,” I answer. “What’s wrong with you?”

Ruen waves off my concern as he has each time I’ve asked. I frown but don’t push. If he doesn’t get better soon, though, I’m going to have to push. Whatever is eating at him can’t be good.

Together, we turn back to the sandy area of the arena where several Mortal Gods are locked into mock battles in their own circles. Axlan isn’t here today. It happens on occasion, the Gods forget that they have duties and classes to attend to here, and they simply don’t show up. Had this been any other class, everyone would have simply gone on their way and enjoyed the free afternoon. This isn’t just any other class. This is battle training and everyone knows that keeping up with this is more of a means of survival than actual education.

Enid is doing well and I’m glad I recommended her for advancement all those months ago. Even if it’d put her in danger, she’s more challenged here and her skills are improving quickly. I watch her duck and weave out of the reach of her attacker, using her much smaller body to circle him and then leap onto his back. Her forearm encircles his throat as she chokes him out. His face begins to turn a splotchy red.

“What about Kiera?”

I pull my attention away from Enid to face Ruen. With a frown, I scan the rest of the arena. “She should be here,” I say. “She wasn’t with you?”

Ruen shakes his head. “No, Caedmon pulled her out of the last class for more of her private sessions with him.”

I frown. “He normally waits until all of her classes are finished for the day,” I comment.

“I know.” Ruen nods. “Which is why I find it odd.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes into the air around us followed by grunts and curses. Ruen glances back to the other Mortal Gods, eyes scanning them. My attention goes to my brother, from the shallow bruises beneath his eyes and the haunted look in his gaze down to his hands. My sharp inhalation has his head turning quickly back in my direction.

When he notes the direction of my stare, he snaps his hand back as if he can hide what I’ve already seen. Anger flares bright within me and I grab ahold of his arm, dragging him further from the others and turning my back on them as I lower my voice.

“Tell me you didn’t,” I hiss out the words, each one coated in the rage that’s currently spearing through my insides.

Ruen doesn’t answer but that’s answer enough.

“You said you’d gotten better,” I growl. “That you stopped.”

“I did.” He won’t meet my eyes.

Fire sparks at my fingertips, white gold light flaring brightly against my palm. I release Ruen and close my hands into fists, stifling the lightning that threatens to spill forth.

“How long?”

He doesn’t need clarification. He knows what I’m asking. Without looking at me still, Ruen answers, his voice quiet. “Since seeing Azai.” The words are tinged with shame and I want to scream at him that he should be ashamed.

All these years … all this time…

Rash words full of hurt and anger hang precariously on the tip of my tongue. They cling to my teeth as I grind them together. Instead of giving them a voice, I scrub a hand down my face, pulling at the skin.

“I want the fucking blade,” I say.

Ruen doesn’t even argue. He has no right to. He merely nods. It’s rare, after all, when our roles reverse like this. I am not the level headed one. He is. Usually.

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