Page 222 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

My injury is already healed.

Undoubtedly, he’s waiting for his own wound to do the same.

But as the seconds trickle by, the blood continues to ooze, showing no inclination to stop.

I put my swords away and regard him with overt satisfaction.

The seconds now turn to minutes. His flesh attempts to knit itself together but is unable to. Just as it heals a little, the wound breaks anew, more blood coming out.

“What did you do?” he demands in a rough voice laced with fear.

“I did something?” I ask with a shrug. “I don’t know. I just defended myself against an assailant.”

“Cut the crap, Minerva. Why is my wound not healing?”

My smile turns to pure contempt as my lips flatten into a tight line.

“Because I don’t want it to,” I tell him. “I’m rather enjoying the sight of you like this. Defeated and in pain.”

“You bitch! What did you do?” he demands louder.

“You didn’t know who you wanted to marry, Theron? An oversight on your part.” I laugh at him. “The royal House of Cryos has a technique called eternal ice, or cryos. Not only does it not melt like regular ice, but it can also infiltrate tissue and become a parasite attacking from within.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I walk casually to his side.

“Ah, you didn’t do your homework, I see. Well, consider yourself enlightened now. This is what awaits you on our wedding night, except…” I let my eyes trail lower. “In other areas of your body.”

“You fucking bitch! How do I get rid of this?”

“Not my problem.” I shrug and continue walking past him and toward my quarters.

“Minerva!” he cries out. “Minerva!” His shouts echo through the hall.

I note the various servants hiding in corners, not daring to make a sound.

When I hear a very low, “Please.” I stop.

I’m not this heartless to leave him with a perpetual gaping wound in his cheek. Shaking my head at the pathetic figure he makes as he clutches onto his injury, I go back to him.

“Give me your hand,” I demand, grabbing the blood-stained hand clutching onto his cheek.

His eyes regard me warily. He’s scared. His body is trembling both from the pain and the fear he might be permanently disfigured. Alas, my kindness extends only so far.

Manifesting my blade again, I point it over his inner forearm. He tries to pull his arm away, but I hold it still.

With the tip of the blade, I carve a small rune into his arm meant to neutralize the parasitic remainders of the eternal ice.

The rune melts into his skin and disappears.

His wound finally stops bleeding, but as the flesh surrounding it starts to knit together, it does so in a mangled fashion.

The wound may be closed, but it is far from gone.

“Just because you said please.” I smile sweetly at him. “But next time you try to touch me again, I will not stop even if you beg. I am not someone you want to mess with, Theron.”

With that, I leave him behind. In a short while, he will find out that he’s been permanently scarred in ways in which deities rarely are. Still, I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for him.

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