Page 272 of The Ascended
I bowed my head, not in deference but to hide the hate that I knew would show in my eyes. When I raised it again, I deliberately avoided looking at Xül. I couldn't bear to see whatever might have been written on his face in that moment.
Olinthar beckoned me forward with one perfect hand. I approached his throne, every step heavier than the last. His fingers were cool against my forehead as he spoke the words of claiming, the divine magic of Sundralis washing over me. It felt sick and wrong.
When it was done, I stepped back, feeling somehow tethered to this place now, bound to the very being I had sworn to destroy.
"Let the celebration begin," Olinthar announced, rising from his throne. "Tonight, we welcome three new Aesymar to the pantheon of Voldaris!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Music swelled from unseen sources, and servants appeared bearing trays laden with food and drink that glowed with divine energy.
Divine beings swarmed around us, their faces blurring together in a sea of perfect features and calculating eyes. Each one wanted something—a moment with the newest gods, a chance to establish connections, to secure future favors. It was overwhelming, the sheer weight of their attention pressing against my newly divine senses.
There are so many of them,I sent to Thatcher through our bond, which hummed stronger than ever after our transformation.How do they expect us to remember all these names?
Just smile and look pretty,he replied, the familiar teasing note in his mental voice steadying me.It's what we're good at.
I fought back a snort, earning curious glances from the minor deities surrounding me. A goddess with flowing silver hair was telling me she was also from Sundralis, but her words slipped past me like water. All I could focus on was the golden glow that now emanated from Thatcher. He stood ten paces away, already encircled by his own admirers, but our connection remained unbroken.
The crowd shifted, and suddenly he was gone from my view. The press of bodies around me increased as more immortals arrived to offer their congratulations. They touched my shoulders, my hands, praising my strength, my resilience, my beauty—as if they knew anything about me beyond what they'd witnessed in the Trials.
I smiled and nodded, falling back on the manners Xül had so painstakingly drilled into me over the past months. Yes, I was honored. No, the transformation hadn't been too painful. Yes, I looked forward to serving Sundralis. The lies flowed easily.
A cool presence materialized behind me, familiar fingers brushing the small of my back. I didn't need to turn to know who it was. My body recognized him instantly, responding with a warmth that spread up my spine.
"Golden eyes suit you, starling," Xül murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear.
I shivered. When I turned to face him, his expression was guarded, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"Now I'm off to have some difficult conversations," he said, gaze drifting across the crowd.
My heart swelled. He was really going to do it. I squeezed his hand, the act hidden from view by the press of bodies around us. "Good luck."
His eyes returned to mine, lingering, then dropped briefly to my lips. A promise for later. Then he was gone, moving through the crowd with predatory grace.
I scanned the room for Thatcher, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Let me know if you need an out, I sent through the bond.
Noted. Same goes for you.
Another face caught my attention ahead—Marx, standing awkwardly at the edges of the celebration, looking thoroughly uncomfortable as several Lightbringers attempted to engage her in conversation.
I made my way toward her, murmuring polite excuses as I extricated myself from my own admirers. Marx's face lit with relief when she saw me approaching.
"Thank the gods," she muttered as I reached her side. "If I had to listen to one more obtuse congratulations, I was going to start cursing people."
"You've been divine for all of an hour, and you're already abusing your power?" I grinned.
"Just planning ahead." She grabbed two glowing goblets from a passing servant, handing one to me. "Might as well."
I took a cautious sip. The liquid warmed me from the inside out.
"Better?" Marx asked.
I snorted. "Come on." I nodded toward a set of glass doors leading to a balcony. "Let's get some air."
We slipped outside, leaving the noise and the press of the celebration behind.
The moment we were alone, I became acutely aware of how careless we'd been before. With my new senses, I could hear conversations from three rooms away—the rustle of fabric, the whisper of breath, heartbeats drumming their private rhythms. If I could hear all this now, what had the Aesymar been privy to during our mortal days?
