Page 8 of Godsbane
“If you two are finished, I have actual things to do before dawn. Things that do not in any way involve the Captain of Corinth.”
I pull them both into a hug that lingers past our normal goodbyes. I have no idea if I’ll ever see either of them again and I’m not ready to let go just yet. “Promise you’ll take care of this place while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Quinn says as Miles adds, “Give them hell, Ivy.”
I smile, planting a loving kiss on each of their cheeks before stepping back. “I wouldn’t dare give them less.”
And I won’t.
CHAPTER 3
My footsteps echo in the empty hallways of the governor's manor. The leather strap of the traveling bag catches on the broad sword sheathed at my back, both thumping against me as I march towards the courtyard and the captain waiting for me.
It’s always quiet in the hours before sunrise, but even more so today. Bundled in cloaks of green to fight the chill of the late winter air, every other noble in the Emerald Region has traded in their comfy beds for the plush pews of the Grand Temple.
Sunrise on the twelfth day—the only time the Golden Pantheon deems their worshippers worthy enough of their attention—is a required day of petitioning. But I have no time for prayers that consistently go unanswered or gods who turned their backs on me years ago.
The bell tolls announcing the six o’clock hour and the start of their sacred service. With each ring, dread washes over me in a wave, causing my steps to slow. Somehow I know, deep in the recesses of my soul, that the woman who returns won’t be the same one who leaves today.
If I return at all.
The Captain of Corinth stands across the deserted courtyard beside two saddled mares, his focus on the temple that looms outside the manor walls. I move slowly, assessing him before he notices my presence.
Sunlight peeks through the clouds, the first light of day ringing his head in a regal, god-like glow. He tightens the straps of the leather pauldrons that span his broad shoulders. There’s a slight tremble to his hands as they skate down his sides, visible even from here. His lips move in a soundless, murmured prayer as he turns to face me. Magic tingles under the surface of my skin, the weight of his gaze heightening the power within me.
“Morning, Captain.” I hold my head high as I step out from the overhang and make my way towards my horse. “No desire to go to temple before we leave?”
“I have little love for those gods,” he answers matter-of-factly. “From what I hear, neither do you.”
“I have little love for those who take away the choices of others. It makes no difference to me if they're kings or gods.”
“I know you didn’t choose to follow me…” he starts.
“Follow?” I scoff. “I think you have the wrong impression of this dynamic, Captain. I don’t follow you.”
“Maybe not yet, my lady, but it’s a long road to Amale.” The corner of his lip hitches up in a smirk.
“We’ll see who follows whom, Captain.”
I pluck a dagger from the saddle bag and casually flip it before sliding it into the sheath strapped to my thigh. I’ve dealt with plenty of men like him before, and it’s best to show yourself as a formidable opponent early on, asserting dominance like you would with any dog.
I pull myself up with the saddle pommel, swinging one leg over and mounting the caramel-colored mare “Oh, and drop the‘my lady’bullshit. As you pointed out, it’s a long road to Amaleso let’s not pretend that you’ve been ordered to respect me by a Lord General who certainly doesn’t.”
His eyes narrow at my directness, a quality that the other rulers of Corinth don’t possess. But political niceties matter little when everyone already hates you and I much prefer to see the shock on their faces than waste time with fake pleasantries.
“What would you have me call you?”
“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure of it,” I shrug.
Bitch. Poison. Cunt.
I’m not going to recite the ever growing list of names that people find synonymous with mine. He seems more than capable of picking one on his own.
“You seem to have a fondness for sharp things.”
He points to the broadsword strapped to my back before lifting a knuckle and quickly rapping the side of my boot. Steel knocks against the round knot of my ankle and I have to swallow the reflexive bite of pain. Amusement gleams in his storm-gray eyes. “Are you trying to send a message?”
“Never underestimate the power an appearance holds, Captain.” I smooth my sweaty palms down my leather corset, the faux boning within concealing thin blades. An appearance is something I know how to wield even better than a blade.
