Page 11 of The Gods Veiling
Jeremiah and I got along great. A little too great, obviously…
Our separation came from his constant obsession with getting chosen at the Veilings. It clashed with me refusing to enter and my desire not to be with someone who wanted to enter.
We actually did bounce right back into friendship after our breakup for a short time. Well, if we’re being honest, friends who kept wandering into each other’s rooms. We agreed and were mature enough to get along under the same roof and go back to the way things were.
Until my true feelings about the gods came out.
Now he views me in a different, hateful light. He’s been an infuriating mix of acting like he owns me because no one else would ever want me now, yet he hates me.
I’m so over it.
My hand slaps against the nozzle and the water swirls down the drain. It’s exhausting living every day with this much resentment.
Go be the bigger person, Thayla.
Maybe after this Veiling, some things will change.
My towel swallows me up and I rub down my new marks from today with some healing balm I’ve perfected over the years. A few nicks broke the skin, but nothing is too bad, and I sigh in relief as I massage the cream around my sore ankle.
Fucking Jeremiah.
The guys’ voices drift from the front as soon as I open the bathroom door, and my feet patter across the hall to my bedroom.
I shut the door behind me and take two steps toward my closet, but the outfit laid across my bed has me freezing in place. The sight of it instantly causes my hot skin to break out into chill bumps.
I’m not sure how long I sit here and stare at it. I don’t even realize I moved until my fingers glide down the soft golden satin.
It’s a gorgeous gown.
Fit for a ceremony.
My hair whips around my neck as I rush from my room and stomp down the hallway. The creaking on the hinges of the door that leads back to the kitchen is drowned out when it bangs against the wall.
“Which one of you put that outfit on my fucking bed?”
Both Mellcom and Jeremiah stop fiddling with the belts they’re lacing around their waists. As tradition, they dress in their armored best.
The females wear their best gowns.
“Go get dressed, Thayla. We’re going to be late.”
The detached coldness dripping from Mellcom’s tone has me taking a step back. He ignores my glare as he bends down to tie his shoe and I clutch my towel tighter.
“I’m not going to be late for anything. I’m not going to the Veiling.”
“You are.”
The finality in his words has both chills and heat flashing through my blood. There’s a lot he’s made me do that I haven’t wanted to, but going to a Veiling Ceremony has never been one of them.
“I amnot—”
“You’re going to go get dressed now or I’m going to dress you myself. Then we’ll drag you kicking and screaming the whole way there. Don’t make him repeat himself.”
I scoff at Jeremiah’s words, but my scowl melts off my face when Mellcom stands back straight, runs his hands down his outfit, and just stares at me.
“Mell…”
“Go.”
