Page 21 of Unlikely Omega

“Have you been watching me?” I take a step back. “Look, I’m tired, Dreon.”

“Tired? Has he worn you out?” He’s holding a spear, the weapon that almost hit me as I’d turned around. The gleam in his eyes isn’t new but it’s brighter tonight. It’s not a good gleam. “What else has he taught you? Share with a friend. I also want to go up in the ranks.”

“The ranks? He’s only shown me Nyx’s rituals.”

“What for?”

His guess is as good as mine, but I only shake my head. “He needs an assistant. He’s a doubly claimed priest. That’s all.”

“You want me to believe that? Why would he choose you as an assistant when there are so many of us perfectly trained and ready to assist, so many of us who…” He trails off, chews on something more.

So much better than me, is what he really wants to say.

It’s started sooner than I’d anticipated. I need to stave it off, buy some time. Caught between Councilor Kaidan’s suspicions, fueled by Councilor Mazarine, and High Priest Elegos’ fury, having to deal with disgruntled acolytes could finish me, especially when I’m drained by these accursed cramps.

Dreon moves toward me. Lifts the spear. “Come on. Spar with me.”

“I need to sleep,” I tell him. “Please. I’m not your enemy.”

“Fight me,” Dreon says. “Show me you’re as good as Priest Finnen seems to think and I’ll shut up. Leave you alone.”

But he won’t, I know that. He won’t be satisfied until he’s the one favored. It’s how minds work. What being human means.

Jealousy. Envy. Desire.

“Dreon.” I take another step back, lift my hands. “Think about what you’re doing. I swear to you there’s no benefit to me from this turn of events.”

“This alliance, you mean?” He twirls the spear. “There’s always benefit from an alliance, Ariadne.”

That’s probably true, though in this case it doesn’t look like it. “I didn’t ask for it. I don’t have time or energy for more rituals. Priest Finnen only stepped in because High priest Elegos was hitting me for being useless. You’re right, I’m not as good as you are, Dreon, and everyone knows it. Don’t—”

He swipes the spear at me. “Then why?”

“To protect me!” I jump back when he swipes at me again. “Stop it.”

“Why should he protect you? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. What did you do for him? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” My back is almost to the wall. When he swipes again, I duck under the arc of the spear and run toward the door, but he’s there in two strides, blocking my way. “Lay off it, Dreon. What are you trying to do, kill me?”

“Incapacitating you should be enough,” he says coldly, and it’s worse than anger. He’s spent time thinking about this.

“And then what, you’ll volunteer for the position?”

“Why not? I’d sure as all hells make a better assistant. Unless he’s fucking you. Are you spreading your legs for him? Is that what this is about?”

“How dare you?” I hiss.

“Your scent has changed. Are you awakened, acolyte? Are you using your guiles to ensnare our priests? If so, I’ll report you to Elegos.”

“I’m not awakened,” I lie as calmly as I can manage, keeping a wary eye on the spear. “And I don’t sleep with anyone. I’m Artume’s faithful follower.”

The spear swipes at me again—and suddenly I’m being yanked back and someone steps between me and Dreon.

“Is there a problem here?” Finnen asks, muscular arms folded over his chest, glaring down his nose at Dreon—or so it looks like, at least. He sometimes gives such a good impression of seeing that you forget he’s blind.

And oh no, he’s just made matters worse.

I grab at his sleeve, tug. “We’re good, Ata Finnen. We were just sparring.”

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