Page 10 of The Gods Veiling
Mellcom silently shakes his head while Jeremiah bangs around the kitchen, getting what he needs. All the while he calls me every colorful thing he can think up.
I think my favorite slur of his is just the good old-fashioned bitch.
A ‘mortal’ term, mind you, but that doesn’t matter because it’s coming from his lips not mine.
I shove a forkful of food in my mouth and sigh happily as I lean back in my chair. These are no crepes, but the flaky eggs, meat crumbles, and cheeses baked to perfection are just as good, if not better.
After the grueling hours of exercise, this hits the spot.
“How much are you going to miss me when I get chosen today?” Jeremiah’s question has my fork pausing millimeters from my mouth. It’s the seriousness behind it that catches my attention.
My eyebrow arches as I lay my food down. “You really think you’re getting chosen today?”
“I do. This is my Veiling. I know it.”
Better him than Lambrit.
Out of my peripheral, I catch the smallest of flinches pass through Mellcom. He continues to eat as though he didn’t hear the question.
“The house would be quieter without you.”
“That’s not a good enough answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
He goes to smart off, but Mellcom bangs his fists on the table so hard our dishes rattle. “Could the two of you get along for the morning? Just one fucking morning.”
A tense silence descends on the kitchen. It makes the glorious food I was indulging in settle in my stomach like a stone.
Each bite I take now tastes like nothing and eventually the awkwardness gets to me.
“I’m going to shower. Enjoy the ceremony.” I push from the table and place my plate in the sink. I stomp my way to the hallway door but pause before passing through, deciding I’ll be the bigger person today. “Good luck, Jeremiah.”
His and Mellcom’s gazes lock together, and they must believe I’m blind if they think I can’t tell they’re having one of their silent conversations. A condescending snort passes through his stuffed mouth, and I shove through the door.
Gods let him be gone.
The hot water pulls a hiss from my lips the second I step under it. It washes away the daily aggravation brought on from training and the constant bickering in my home.
Life used to be so much simpler, I swear.
It all started changing before I opened my big mouth. That was just the peak. The true descent began twelve years ago.
When Meridamus left…
Before Mellcom, his dad was the arena training leader. Meridamus made it easy for me. He really just made me run a lot. When he started making me go to the arena daily with them, I could only spar with him. I loved and respected him as my guardian, so I kept my head down and did what I was told.
Him leaving changed Mellcom. Understandably.
He went from being an irresponsible twenty-year-old to arena leader and having to take on the task his dad usually did within the community.
He’s denied it all these years, but I know he blames me. The little slip of a note his dad left us saying he had to go help my parents—for what, where, and why, he didn’t say—was the start of him growing harder on me.
It was a slow change that happened over the years until my outburst. Him pulling punches, metaphorically and literally, ended that day.
Now there’s this weird wall between us. I both crave our old relationship and grow more resentful that he sits back or participates in me getting annihilated every day for a life-changing move I’m not even interested in.
We don’t even know what takes place at Godsden. This torturous training everyone goes through is probably for nothing.
