Page 15 of Godsbane
What have I done to be so egregiously cursed? It’s not enough for the gods to simply force this magic upon me. No, they have to send me omens.Dark signs of certain death that are incredibly clear now in the light of this revelation.
In light of my connection tohim.
Crazed, half-maniacal laughter echoes through the trees and it takes me several seconds to realize that it’s coming from me. My magic knew he was important before my mind could piece together the puzzle that seems idiotically obvious.
I see it all clearly now, the images from my nightmares replaying in a loop.
Water dripping from tendrils of onyx hair.
The Amethyst Throne burning.
A loud hoot startles me and I turn to find a large horned owl, the symbol of the King of the Gods himself, resting on a tree branch directly overhead.
“So it’s decided then?” I yell at the bird. “I’m just supposed to follow him to my death? Is that all I was made for?” My voice trails off as hot tears break loose from my eyes. “Did I ever have a choice?”
I openly weep into the forest floor, mourning the loss of a future I had only dared to dream of.
There is no question in my mind that the Dark God of Death waits for me in Amale. And the Captain of Corinth, a man whose shadow is rumored to be a reflection of the soul reaper himself, is his harbinger.
“Fine. Have it your way,” I boldly declare to the sigil of Nobus, wiping the tears from my cheeks, “but if I’m going to die, I’m going to take them all down with me.”
Captain Murphy looks up from the small fire he’s built in our makeshift camp. My eyes have to be red and puffy, but if he notices he doesn’t mention it. I have no doubt that he probably heard my wailing, but he doesn’t draw attention to my moment of weakness.
We wordlessly stare at each other across the fire until the loud hoot of an owl breaks the tension. It’s only then that I notice that Murphy still hasn’t found all of his clothes.
“Did something happen to your shirt, Captain?” I ask, unceremoniously dropping the few measly twigs I collected so that I didn’t return empty-handed.
“I didn’t want it to snag on the firewood I had to collect or to get wet while I caught dinner.” He motions to a large bass lying dead on the log beside him.
“If you think you’re going to sit there while I cook it for you,” I start.
“I don’t,” he interrupts. “I know how to cook, but you’re going to help me.”
“Help you?”
“Yes, princess. Help me.” Placing two large hands on his knees, the captain stands and starts towards me. “I saw you earlier. The problem is, I can’t tell if you were staring because you wanted to put a knife through me or if you wanted to?—”
“Yes,” I quickly interject before he gets the wrong idea. “Fond of sharp things, remember?” I tap the dagger sheathed at my side for added effect.
“In that case…” He places the handle of his own dagger in my hand.
I examine the sharp point and look up to find him staring at me, eyes ablaze. “I’m hoping you’ll gut the fish instead, but it’s your choice.”
“You’re under the assumption that I want to stab you, and yet you willingly hand me a blade?” I ask incredulously.
“I’d have you on the ground faster than you could raise that blade. But like I said,” he says, palms raised, “I’m hoping you’ll gut the fish instead.”
“Awfully trusting of someone you barely know.” I sit down beside the flat rock that will be my cutting board. “Bring me the fish.”
Captain Murphy’s eyes take on that storm-cloud quality again, flashing briefly like lightning as he smirks. I’m hyper aware of his movements—every stride of his powerful legs, every flexed muscle across his obsidian tattoo, every still-wet strand of onyx hair.
He drops the fish atop the rock before moving to kneel behind me.
“What are you doing?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“Helping, princess. Unless you’re intimately familiar with gutting fish.”
His breath is hot against the column of my neck as he nearly whispers the words. The world around me spins and I nearly lose my balance in his orbit.
