Page 91 of Gods of Prey
“Revel—”
“I had to learn about your child from Caelum,” I continue, my voice breaking slightly. “The God of Order knew before I did. Do you understand how that felt? Standing there, supposedly your closest friend and ally, looking like a fool who knows nothing about your life?”
Sienna moves between us, her essence shimmering with distress. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
“Isn’t it?” I turn to her. “Because maybe it’s time we all stopped keeping secrets. Maybe it’s time someone acknowledged that friendship and attachments mean something, even among gods.”
Sebastian is quiet for a long moment, staring out at the swirling cosmos beyond the terrace. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft.
“I was scared.”
The admission hangs in the air between us.
“I was scared,” he repeats, “that if I told you, you’d try to stop me. That you’d see the pregnancy as another reason to drag me back to Aurelys immediately.”
I feel some of my anger deflate. “Sebastian . . . ”
“And I was scared that you’d be right.” He turns to face me, and I see centuries of pain in his eyes. “That loving her, wanting this child, choosing them over my divine duties makes me selfish. Weak. Everything the council thinks I am.”
The raw honesty in his voice cuts through my remaining anger like a blade. This is my friend—not the God of Life, not the powerful divine being who can reshape reality, but Sebastian. The same person who used to sit with me on the rolling hills of Aurelys, wondering if we’d ever find something worth living for beyond duty.
This must be why he preferred the mortal realm, where he was a predator among small prey.
“You’re not weak,” I say quietly. “Reckless, maybe. Infuriating, definitely. But not weak.”
He gives me a rueful smile. “I should have told you. You’re right. You deserved to know going in there. I just...” He glances at Jovie, and his expression softens. “I wanted to protect this. Tokeep it safe for as long as possible. That’s always been my default with her.”
“By lying to everyone who cares about you?”
“By not giving anyone the chance to tell me it was impossible,” he corrects.
I understand that impulse more than I want to admit. The desire to hold something precious close, to shield it from the harsh realities of divine politics and cosmic balance. But understanding doesn’t make the hurt disappear entirely.
“I covered for you with the Divine Council,” I say. “For months, I’ve been fielding their questions, making excuses, buying you time. And all of that was based on incomplete information.”
Sebastian nods, looking genuinely contrite. “I know. And I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”
“You should have.” I pause, then add in a lower voice, “But I also should have asked why you were so determined to stay. I assumed it was just about love, about not wanting to leave Jovie. I didn’t consider that there might be more.”
Sienna drifts closer to both of us. “We’re all struggling with this. None of us expected the situation to become so complicated.”
I look at her, then back at Sebastian. “A baby changes everything. You know that, right? The council’s judgment, the timeline for returning to Aurelys, the balance between realms—everything becomes more complex with an unborn divine child in the equation.”
“I know,” Sebastian says. “But I won’t abandon them. Not for duty, not for balance, not for anything. They’remine.”
The fierce determination in his voice reminds me why we’ve been friends for so long. Sebastian has always been willing to sacrifice everything for the people he loves. It’s what makes him a good friend and a dangerous god.
“I’m not asking you to abandon them,” I say carefully. “But I need you to trust me enough to help figure this out. No more secrets, no more withholding information. If we’re going to find a solution that satisfies the council and keeps your family safe, I need to know everything.”
Sebastian extends his hand toward me—a gesture as old as our friendship. “No more secrets.”
I clasp his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his Life energy mingling with mine. “No more secrets.”
Jovie speaks for the first time since we left the council chamber, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happens now?”
I look at her—really look at her. She’s pale, shaken by the council’s revelation that they knew about her pregnancy before any of us realized they did. But there’s steel in her spine, determination in the set of her jaw. She’s stronger than she appears, this mortal who captured a god’s heart.
“Now,” I say, “we follow their orders, but I don’t trust that they won’t make it difficult on us. We humiliated them in there.” My mother won’t let that go by unpunished. Not when we defied them in front of all of Nytheris. “We figure out how to protect you and your child while satisfying seven very powerful, very ancient gods who don’t particularly care about mortal feelings.”
