House of Gods, page 14
“Do you yield?” she snarled.
His eyes were hard and uncaring. “I yield.”
She let her sword arm drop and turned away from him. “Anyone else? Anyone else I can prove myself to?”
Cordon took another step backward in deference. The rest of the gladiators were sprawled out in the sand. They were looking at her with awe in their expressions. Possibly even … respect.
“No!” Cordon yelled out.
Kerrigan turned too slow. She saw Myron had gotten to his feet, his sword swinging toward her too fast for her to block. She had humiliated him and then left him in the sand. She had thought him honorable. She had turned her back. Stupid.
Then, a sword rocked between them, catching Myron’s thrust before it came down on her. Evander’s sword was nearly the length of his massive body. His eyes were hard as ice as he pushed Myron backward and knocked him back to the ground.
“You yielded,” Evander snarled. “Have you no shame?” Myron opened his mouth to respond, but Evander cut him off, “She beat you in an open challenge. You stay on the sand, where you belong. You are finished.”
Myron’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes still told the story of hatred. She had made an enemy that day.
“What is going on here?” a voice boomed from the entrance to the yard.
Constantine stepped onto the sand, and the rest of the gladiators recoiled from the heat of his anger.
Kerrigan lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I bested your gladiators.”
Constantine looked down at Myron. “Myron?”
“All of them.”
He did a double take before meeting Evander’s still-furious expression. Evander nodded, slowly returning his sword to its sheath.
“She issued a challenge. Your men met her in combat. None survived,” Evander explained.
“All of them?” he repeated.
“All but Cordon.”
Cordon stepped forward then. “I did not need to engage to know that I could not best her.”
Constantine wore the same mask of shock as the rest of the gladiators. “What is the meaning of all this?”
“I’m a fighter,” she said, twirling the sword once more. “This is who I am. I have proven myself against your best. I will continue to prove myself against anyone who deigns to purchase me.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’m not for sale.”
Constantine’s hands went into fists. “You have already been purchased, and you will do what I say.”
“No.” She spat the word at him. “No, I will not. Tarcus is playing you. He’s goading you into this. You’re walking right into his trap, and it’s not even clever. Use your head for strategy. See exactly what he’s plotting. You think he told all those senators to back down so he could keep me for himself? Or do you think he intends to humiliate you and take me anyway?”
“Stop,” he hissed.
Kerrigan took a step forward, the sword still humming in her hand. “Then, don’t be stupid.”
The gladiators gasped in shock at her audacity.
“Father,” Danae said. She had slunk out onto the sand, and no one had even noticed her presence.
“Not now,” Constantine barked.
“She’s telling the truth.”
“She’s telling the truth as she sees it,” Constantine snarled. “It isn’t the same thing.”
Danae shook her head. “If you do not believe even me, then believe when I say that selling her to anyone is the same as what the Doma did to Mother.”
Constantine whipped backward, as if Danae had slapped him. “I have the right …”
“But will you ever forgive yourself?” Danae asked, tilting her head to read him the way she had done to Kerrigan. “Will you honor her memory?”
“Day …”
“Put me in the tournament instead,” Kerrigan interrupted. “I’ll win the whole thing. You can have the prize money. A hundred percent of the money goes to you. It’s more than what I’ll receive otherwise.”
“And what do you get out of this?” he demanded.
“The gift.”
“A Gift,” he said as if the word were in capital letters. “That’s as much of a curse as a blessing.”
“It will be mine to bear.” She flipped the sword from one hand to the other and held her palm out. “Win the tournament, take the money, and keep your integrity.”
“Evander,” Constantine asked.
He nodded. “Kurios.”
Constantine closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Blessed be.”
Then, he put his hand into Kerrigan’s, and they shook, solidifying their deal.
18
The Red Masks
ISA
Everything they had worked for had come to fruition.
Bastian—the Father—was the head of the Society.
The Red Masks ruled on high.
Isa had been able to come into the light.
And none of it mattered. Not a single thing had made a damn difference. Valia was gone. She was dead. Killed in cold blood by the Father to prove a point.
It didn’t matter that Valia had been working with Kerrigan. That she’d given up her life as a spy and double-crossed them all. That she had seen the evil in the world and finally, at the last possible moment, turned away from it to try to preserve what had already been there. Something Isa had never done—could never do.
Her sister had betrayed them. And she had paid the price with her life.
Now, Isa stood at the right hand of the Father. Her ice-white hair on display. The shadows she had always clung to disappeared as those assembled in the council chamber looked upon her features. The curse that was her birthright—her beauty.
She had always wielded it like a weapon. But wished more than ever that she could be rid of it. She wasn’t used to people staring at her. She was used to stabbing them. After all, she was the best assassin in Kinkadia.
“What do you plan to do now?” a woman asked over the chatter in the council.
Isa recognized her. She’d come to their side long ago, eager to serve, eager to bring the Fae to the front and silence the human and half-Fae majority in the city. Isa knew that she had enough money to help make that happen. And a husband who didn’t care about her dalliances with the human staff. Hypocrite.
Bastian waved his hand to silence the crowd. He sat at the head of the council chamber within Draco Mountain. In what felt like an endless stream of meetings to quash rebellion and bring the full Society under his mantle, he had been meeting with his followers and detractors alike. Buying out those who were reticent. Killing those who refused to bend to him. Cowing others with threats. It was exhausting work, and Isa had never considered having to endure it. She had been a blade at the throat. Not a diplomat.
Not that she was the diplomat here. Bastian handled everything. He’d been on the Society council for decades. The rise to the head of the council was his crowning glory. If only Isa could just stab everyone who offended him.
“I plan to bring the tribes to heel,” Bastian told the chamber calmly.
“How do you plan to do that?” the woman asked. “The tribes of Alandria have always flown under the Society banner. Now, there are factions refusing your reign. Are we to have civil war?”
“Nothing about what I plan for those who turn their back on their country will be civil,” Bastian told her solemnly.
A man in the front row shuddered. “There has already been so much bloodshed.”
“Change requires sacrifice,” Bastian said.
Sacrifice. Like Valia. Another person to get Father all that he wanted. The thing that made her hate him. Yet she stood at his side, as she always had. The end of this would be harder than a sharp blade and a quick death.
Alura sat straight-backed in her father’s council chair. Her onyx skin gleaming in the light. Her face a mask of composure. Lorian Van Horn had been another sacrifice for the greater good. The scapegoat the Red Masks had needed at the time to deal with Kerrigan Argon.
“What about Kerrigan?” Alura asked, her voice carrying.
Bastian never gave away how he felt about Kerrigan—the girl he had raised to be a symbol for the Red Masks. The girl who had everything a half-Fae could possibly have and did what was within her power to raise up others instead of burying them beneath her ambition. The girl who had gotten away despite their best efforts.
“We are still looking for her,” Bastian said.
Alura made a sound of disbelief. “You won’t find her.”
Bastian bristled at her tone of voice. “Do you have a better suggestion, Councilwoman?”
“Simply that none of this is safe until you have her in hand,” Alura said.
And she would know. She had trained Kerrigan during her dragon training. She had taken the girl to the Battle of Lethbridge. She had been injured in battle with her and lost the use of her legs. Now, she had a cane.
Not to suggest she wasn’t formidable. If she hadn’t been taken out within minutes of the initial Red Masks invasion, she might have been a real threat. Instead, when she had woken, she had joined their side. Isa doubted it was genuine. But Bastian was set on leaving the status quo as much as possible.
“We will have her soon,” he assured her.
“Because Tieran lives?” Alura asked.
Tieran was the only reason they knew that Kerrigan wasn’t dead. She and Fordham had disappeared in a cloud of black shadows. His dragon, Netta, had escaped captivity at Holy Mountain. Tieran was nowhere to be seen. He’d been under wards when Kerrigan disappeared. He collapsed shortly after, and they all believed Kerrigan was actually gone. But after moving him within the mountain, he revived. He’d taken down an entire section of the aerie with his fury and escaped.
It was her father’s biggest failure. They could have killed Tieran and ended Kerrigan. A dragon or rider couldn’t survive the other’s demise.
“Don’t worry about Kerrigan. Let’s focus on the tribes for now,” Bastian said, swaying the conversation back to the topic at hand.
Isa let the hours slip away. This had been going on for weeks. It would continue until her father had the entire island back under control.
She was jolted from her thoughts by the council adjourning. It was night again already. Her time to play.
“Isa,” Father said.
She nodded, falling into step behind him. She didn’t speak as they traversed the complicated hallways of Draco Mountain. When they were within his private chambers, he finally removed the blood-red mask that melded to his face and became her father once more.
He only showed weakness in her presence. Dropping the mask and sinking into a seat. His eyes were distant.
“You have to find her.”
She didn’t have to ask who.
“I will if that is your request.”
Bastian met her gaze, hardened as steel. “Find her and kill her.”
“As you wish.”
She would find Kerrigan Argon and finish what she had started so long ago. And then she would return with her father’s favor … and she would end it all.
19
The Amulet
CLOVER
“Tell me again how it worked,” Hadrian said.
He stared down at the amulet as if it were simply a chunk of metal. A circle the size of her palm, etched with the language of the ancient Fae. It was so much more than just a necklace Clover had been wearing since her parents’ demise.
Clover sighed heavily through her nose for the hundredth time. “We’ve been over this.”
She looked up at Darby, seated at the end of the table. Her focus never wavered on the necklace.
“Yes, but the mechanics still elude me,” Hadrian said.
“It’s not mechanics,” Darby said. “It’s heart. Right?”
Clover nodded. It was heart. It had always been heart with the three of them. Clover had fallen in love with Darby at first sight. Her majestic dark skin and long, shiny black hair. The dimples in her rounded cheeks. The light in her eyes. The sharpness of her Fae ears had never meant a thing to Clover.
Everything Clover had wanted and known she could never have. How could a Fae this stunning ever look at a street-rat human and see beauty? Clover’s parents had been killed in the Red Masks raids so long ago. She’d been raised in the Laments church before its demise and then taken in by Dozan Rook, the ruthless king of the Wastes. She’d worked in his halls as a card dealer until Kerrigan stumbled into her life and upended it wholly.
She didn’t deserve someone like Darby. Let alone Darby and Hadrian.
At least Hadrian had been gutter-born in the same way she had. Fully Fae and taken off the streets at a young age with his unusual blue hair, too-quick mind, and sharply pointed ears. Hadrian and Darby had been Kerrigan’s closest friends until Clover joined their little group. She and Hadrian were at each other’s throats until Darby was yanked away from her. Then, everything made sense. They hated each other only because they loved each other. They were so similar. And when it had been clear that she wanted them both, Hadrian hadn’t balked. He only wanted what was best for her. He wanted everything for her.
So, she had them both.
Unfathomable.
Almost as unfathomable as the amulet before her now.
Clover reached in her pockets, patting herself down to find the loch cigarettes that sustained her. It was an illegal substance on the streets of Kinkadia and becoming increasingly more difficult to find now that the Red Masks were in charge. While most lochheads were depraved addicts, Clover had a chronic illness. The loch kept her from debilitating pain at all times of the day.
Hadrian brushed a hand back through her cropped black hair and pulled a cigarette from behind her ear. “Here.”
She took it with a wicked grin, bringing it to her lips and leaning forward. He had just enough fire magic to light it.
She inhaled deeply, letting her eyes flutter closed. “That’s the stuff.”
Hadrian’s pupils dilated at the sight of her. He snatched up the cigarette and brought his mouth to hers. She exhaled into him at the first touch of their lips fitting together.
“No fair,” Darby whispered.
Clover took another hit on the cigarette before sinking back into her seat next to Darby. She blew the smoke above them and then claimed Darby’s mouth next. Darbs had never liked the smoke, but she hardly complained as their tongues touched in the space.
A throat cleared at the door. “Not to interrupt.”
Darby jerked backward. Propriety was something that had been too far ingrained in her. Clover put a finger under Darby’s chin and kissed her once more. Just a peck. Just enough to remind her who she belonged to.
If her cheeks could have flamed red, they would have in that moment. Clover loved it.
“Hey, Thea,” Clover said, turning away from her girlfriend and to the head of the RFA.
Rights for All was the main arm of the rebellion against the Red Masks. Their focus was exactly as their name suggested—helping humans and half-Fae have equal rights with Fae. That had started with a say in the government, courtesy of Kerrigan. But that had all gone up in flames, just like all their other plans. Just like Kerrigan.
“Hello, you three,” Thea said. “Any luck on the amulet?”
She came farther into the room and gestured to the necklace still sitting motionless before Hadrian. Her bald head was fully on display, and she had changed into the robes of the Laments church, where she had worked before starting RFA. Thea had known Clover’s parents before they died. She’d been the one to push Clover to finish what her father had started.
Because Clover’s father hadn’t just been a clockmaker. He had been creating illicit amulets made out of pure Tendrille and carved with ancient Fae so that humans could have magic too. She still had no idea how the thing worked. Only that she had gotten it to work at the best possible moment. When the world had come crumbling down in the arena, the amulet had burned brilliant white. She, Hadrian, and Darby had disappeared and landed here in the midst of the RFA headquarters. The amulet hadn’t done a single thing since.
“We’re still working on it,” Hadrian said diplomatically.
“Indeed,” Thea said.
Thea wanted to hand it off to the inventors she had working on a similar creation since Clover’s father had been killed, but Clover couldn’t part with it. Just having the thing off from around her neck made her feel sort of sick.
Her father had been making it for her after all. He’d wanted a way to cure her illness that no Fae healer had been able to discover. It still didn’t do that, but if they could make it work, it might give them a shot against the Red Masks.
“Are you sure we can’t bring my inventors in?” Thea asked.
Clover had already let her make sketches of the circular necklace and even take a mold out of clay for the designers. She’d looked in on what they were making and let them see the necklace while she was wearing it. But her mother had told her to run and not to trust anyone. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she gave it to the inventors, she’d never see it again.
“No,” Clover said at once.
Darby put a hand on her arm. “It would be helpful to have more eyes on it.”
“I don’t trust anyone else.”
Thea sighed. “I know that, and I apologize.”
“You certainly didn’t help the matter,” Clover said.
She knew she sounded snippy, but Thea had lied to her. She hadn’t told her about her connection to her parents. She’d purposely kept it back to draw her into the RFA.
“I didn’t, but I would do it again,” Thea said with bravado. “This is too important. Without Kerrigan, we are at a loss as to how to stop the red tide flooding our people. I will do anything to stop it.”
