The Forgotten Gods, page 18
part #25 of The Network Series Series
Baxter speaks very highly of you.
Hearing Baxter’s name in Ventis’ voice felt strange. All this time, he’d constantly joked about being the son of a god. Until this moment, it never seemed fully real.
“Baxter is . . . he’s wonderful.”
You two have formed a strong friendship.
He spoke with confidence, as if he had somehow sensed this truth himself. “Yes, I think so.”
Also with you is my granddaughter, Ava.
“She’s full of spirit.”
Like her mother, Christa. Ava and I have not formally met.
“So she’s mentioned,” I said wryly.
She doesn’t think highly of me. A note of regret lingered in his voice, woven around threads of something like amusement.
“No,” I murmured. “She doesn’t. I think she wants to love you, but she’d never admit it.”
Also like her mother, who sought refuge from life as a demigod in that small collection, with Ava’s Tama. It is not easy to be the child of a god.
“Baxter hasn’t had many complaints.”
Affection brightened his tone. Baxter is special. He always has been. His mother, Yamara, was the same way. Saw the goodness in everything.
“Was?”
Yamara has passed to the next world, where she continues to grow, though she misses our son.
His easily spoken words arrested my thoughts. The next world, where she continues to grow. Is that where Mama was now? Did she miss me as desperately as I did her? Undoubtedly. With the questions came a wave of surprise.
“I didn’t realize his mother was dead,” I murmured. “He never mentioned her, now that I think about it.”
The topic is a sensitive one.
“You still see Yamara?”
Always. Those I love are always with me, whether here or there.
The agony of losing Mama rippled through my mind in a wave. Did a god experience grief the same way as witches with each loss? For Ventis, Yamara wasn’t gone. Perhaps eternity wasn’t so bleak when one could see all.
Ignis provided a stark rebuttal to such a thought.
Mama’s eyes remained bright in my mind as I asked, “Do you love them? The women that bear your demigods.”
Each one.
“Is it worth it to love so many?”
Always.
The word expanded, rippling over the cavern walls in faint echoes. I tilted my head back, lost to the ringing.
“What is it like over there, on the other side?”
The wind stirred.
Better.
Longing welled up in me, and the sense of being a speck in great vastness. What I wouldn’t give to see Mama again. To know the other side, drawn like a dark curtain over this one. Ventis swept these thoughts away, bringing me into the moment again.
I apologize on behalf of my brothers for all that has befallen Alkarra. As soon as I heard the news that demigods may have been there years ago, I have attempted to learn more. Sending Baxter was a way for me to keep eyes on Tontes and his children.
The opening to get answers was a welcome one, though something cautioned me not to fully trust him.
“How did you know about the demigods going to Alkarra?”
My brother, Ignis. All of it originated with Prana.
Her name prickled coldly along my spine. “I’ve heard. Sounds like Prana is always creating trouble.”
A ripple moved through the cavern walls, as if Ventis made an mmm sound. I held onto a hammock when the ground shifted.
Indeed. Years ago, Prana came to Alaysia and spoke with Bram about magicless witches in Alkarra. His tone dropped into something like godly disgust. He eventually stole an amulet and went to Alkarra, which is when I learned of her involvement. You know the rest.
The puzzle pieces clicked more fully together. Prana’s appearance in the gardens at Chatham Castle. Her desperation to fix an error. Her reminder at the ocean. She wanted the demigods out of Alkarra so desperately because she had put them there.
A burning rage re-kindled deep in my chest. Though I’d known or surmised much of this already, Ventis had clarified the details. Until the intricacies were laid out, it had all felt nebulous.
“Prana,” I muttered.
The machinations of gods and goddesses, Ventis said, with warning, are not yours to judge.
The feeling of being chided, like a small child, set my teeth on edge. Did Ventis defend Prana? Ignis had warned me that life for goddesses and gods was different than witches expected. Their opinions and views are broader. I began to understand that now.
Tontes poses as your greatest obstacle for removing demigods from Alkarra.
“He’s not my obstacle,” I countered, “as much as he is yours.”
Oh? His voice curled in a way that I couldn’t possibly fathom. Do enlighten me.
“If you allow Tontes to continue attacking Alkarra, then your goddess sisters will get involved. Witches may not know all of Alkarran history, but I know enough to surmise you don’t want that to happen again.”
A wild bluff, mostly, based off what little Ignis had said. Posturing at its finest. Whether or not Ventis had reason to fear Deasylva, I wasn’t sure, but it felt obvious after all Prana had said. Prana feared Deasylva, so it stood to reason her brothers might as well. Not to mention the fact that Ignis actively wanted me to reject any form of allegiance to the goddess.
That meant something.
The only truth I clung to was the one I felt most certain about: trust no one.
Tontes has his own ideas of risks and rewards, Ventis mused. The rest of us don’t always follow.
“I find that hard to believe,” I said lightly, “considering that Ignis allowed his children to rise in an attempt to take Alkarra.”
And yet, he parried with a sharpness of tone, you still collude magic with him.
A crack of water slapping rock startled me. On the patio, a boulder rolled across the ground, water gushing behind it. The sea retreated, and the rock remained. Though I hadn’t moved, it felt as if the world flipped around beneath me.
I mentally backed down, duly reminded of my position in Ventis’ own Rostina.
The gods are touted as selfish, Ventis continued, but my sisters are equally so. Don’t let Deasylva fool you, Bianca. She desires your ability and loyalty as much as Ignis. Your status as a living amulet is not so much a question of magic, but a question of allegiance and power.
“Ignis has stated as much.”
He is wise, if not occasionally reckless.
Silence settled over the cavern while I absorbed what he said, broken by the whispers of water. Could I trust Ventis? Not wholly. Marten would never hail me as an Ambassador because alacrity wasn’t my forte, but I knew sincerity when I heard it. In regard to the magicks, I felt what Ventis said was true in my bones.
These two magicks couldn’t thrive in close proximity forever.
Although subtle, the god magic grew hotter daily, a gradual expansion and bullying. Goddess magic inched farther and farther away in response. I lifted my hands, peering at my fingers. A symbol of our ability as witches. The harnessing of magic to change our world. My throat dried like hot sand when I noticed that my fingers trembled.
“What happens if I forsake Deasylva?” I whispered.
Then you will be of the gods, he said brightly, and have all at your feet.
“I don’t want Alaysia.”
His tone lowered. Who said that you must settle for Alaysia?
I scoffed. “You think the goddesses would allow me to remain in Alkarra with god magic?”
If you are preventing the destruction of the land and another war of gods and goddesses?
The question had been drawled like a lazy yawn. With it, an assumption that the only path to save Alkarra was this one. I frowned at the implications. Living as a god magic amulet amongst witches. Able to do magic but . . . distinctly different.
Untenable.
By the good gods, though, it would be effective. Wouldn’t such a special ability make the most powerful Sisterhood in all the world? Matthais’ disregard for me doing the work of Protectors would fade into time and disrepute. He’d have no outdated opinion to stand on because I would be far more mighty than him.
The thought of such power used as a force for good through the Sisterhood—and for Alkarra—made me burn with hunger.
“Why would you let me save Alkarra?”
The question rang in the quiet for a moment.
Because it is yours to save. Tontes may desire another enemy and worthy foe, but we do not.
A sense of not having the bigger picture made this conversation feel like grasping at pieces in the dark. Assembling a puzzle by feel instead of sight. Why should I trust Ventis?
Could I afford not to?
The choice of your loyalty is not as simple as which god or goddess to accept, but whom will you save? If you want to save the land of Alkarra, you will remain with Ignis. Tontes will not back down from a fight. Competing god magic is all that stands between his domination of Alkarra and your freedom. Ignis has created an interesting weapon in you. You are, perhaps, the only weapon to stay Tontes.
“Goddess magic isn’t strong enough?”
The moment the words escaped me, I felt their foolishness. Didn’t I already know this? Demigods with god magic were stronger, faster, more powerful. God magic was frighteningly easy—how well I knew this.
Ventis only chuckled.
His words curled like burning paper in my chest, ashy, hot, smoky. This conversation felt like a declaration of war. A warning. Prudence pushed me closer to caution than posturing.
“Perhaps I should pay more attention to what Ignis says,” I murmured lightly, despite the proverbial knife I felt hovering at my neck.
It is all, he whispered, that we ask.
Surreal disbelief fueled the next hour of my life.
Alaysia moved like a dream around me as I contemplated my conversation with Ventis. A vague, distant paradise with sharp teeth. At the conclusion of our conversation, the wind had ushered me out. Baxter had been waiting outside his father’s doors, he’d wrapped me in his arms, and brought me . . . here.
His . . . castle within a castle.
With a hand on the small of my back, he ushered me into a broad room, large as the banquet hall. Soaring ceiling. Stained glass windows. Chiseled designs of playful wind curling up the walls, coy and flirtatious. Flecks of broken coral lingered in the sandstone walls, adding a sheen of color to the room.
I stopped, arrested by the swelling size, the daunting beauty. Caverns of rock, magic, and sand.
He paused, his breath a hitch.
“You all right, B?”
“Fine,” I whispered, not to disturb the reverence of such a place. He put a hand on my arm. I drew from deeper ruminations with a jerk. Concerned, grassy eyes peered at me. I sighed.
“I’m fine.”
He enveloped me in his arms until I felt the thud of our hearts mingling. My eyes closed. I swayed closer to him, breathing deep a musty, sweet smell. His body felt like the only true anchor I had. In mere moments, the rooms didn’t exist anymore, just the molding of the two of us. He held me tight, as if he sought the same stabilizing power. I sent aside thoughts of Merrick to focus on Baxter.
Sweet Baxter.
After my heart slowed, my courage returned. I pulled away to gaze into his worried eyes. The tip of his finger brushed a lock of hair away from my cheeks, tucking it behind my ear.
“You survived my father?” A wry smile reassured me that Baxter remained the Baxter I knew from Alkarra. I laughed softly.
“He was surprisingly approachable.”
A knock on the door rang into the room. He frowned.
“A moment, please.”
I nodded and he left with an irritated breath.
With life back in my body, my heart an easy plod again, I whirled around to contemplate these dauntingly majestic rooms. Hallways bled away from this space like life-giving arteries. Further elegance was hinted at between the interplay of shadow and light. Sheer curtains. Simplistic, plush furniture. Golden edges and murals with subdued, classic color palettes.
My feet itched to explore.
Instead of venturing into unknown territory that wasn’t mine, I drew closer to the wild. A balcony larger than the Upper Bailey at Chatham Castle sprawled outside. The wind played with my hair as I crossed to the side to peer at an endless skirt of water. The Rostina lu Lune sprawled to either side, impossibly endless. Instead of exulting in the adventure and glory of such a thrilling land, I thought of home.
Letum Wood.
Leda.
Marten.
Had Scarlett announced the new High Priest? And if so, who had she chosen? What topics had Hiddleston attempted to debate with Leda lately, if any? Such thoughts comforted me, as if I could keep my friends close by rumination. No letters had arrived, though I had only sent one myself.
Concerning, on many levels. Did the gods block the magic that brought letters?
Or had my friends forgotten me?
No, I doubted that.
Merrick’s intense figure lurked in the recesses, a shadow that I desperately wanted to think about, but held in reserve. Emerald eyes. Sandy hair. Quick smile set in chiseled features. Merrick and I had parted as friends. Yet despite attempts to turn thoughts of him away from my time here, he returned again and again.
A touch on the small of my back, and then a warm body at my side, drew me back to Alaysia. Thoughts of Merrick fractured into a thousand pieces when Baxter stood next to me, smiling wide. Falling daylight highlighted his handsome features, cutting shadows across the hollows of his cheek.
“So,” he murmured. “I want to apologize for not being with you when you were called to Father’s side. I had no idea that—“
I pressed my fingers to his lips.
“Not your fault,” I whispered. “I could have woken you, but you seemed tired. Gio said you wouldn’t be admitted, anyway.”
Curiosity stole across his features when my hand dropped. Brows lifted, he asked, “Dare I ask what Father said?”
My lips parted, then closed. I sighed. Ventis set out the terms of god magic quite clearly, but none of the words to summarize our conversation flowed. One thought looped around instead.
To whom do I belong?
The thought of Tontes overtaking Alkarra in a storm built in my mind. Lightning setting the forest on fire. Thunder so loud it would drown out reason. I could fight for Alkarra better with Ignis as my magic, and that’s what I didn’t want to admit.
Ventis was right.
Except for one if that lingered in the background.
Deasylva.
An unknown goddess, with quiet acclaim and a hidden presence in the land. Apparently, I knew of her. Perhaps through the forest. But I didn’t know her at all. The gods wanted me to make an impossible decision.
Choose their magic, their life, or a goddess who had never revealed herself. By sheer willpower, I kept my response to Baxter from wobbling like a drunk Guardian.
“I don’t know what to think about Ventis, honestly.”
“Was he kind?”
The blunt question startled me. I turned to face him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”
Baxter leaned his forearms on the bannister and gazed out. His eyelashes fluttered, busy with thoughts. “My father is a good god,” he murmured, “but he’s not perfect. I never know what side of him will come out.”
Is he a good god? I wanted to ask, but dismissed the thought. My darker side said no, there were no good gods.
“We all have demons,” I murmured to be gracious.
Baxter shifted, leaning his palms back on the railing. The effect of sunset on his skin made my breath catch in the back of my throat. The heat of his touch on my spine renewed in a flash of memory, then faded.
“Are you comfortable telling me what you discussed?” he asked. “Your conversation is yours. You have no obligation to me.”
But I did. Whether rooted in our friendship or the new, possibly romantic waters, I couldn’t be sure. My affection for Baxter was genuine, yet it wasn’t breathtaking, the way it had been with Merrick.
Expecting the two experiences to be similar sounded like madness itself, yet . . .
“Of course I’m comfortable with you.” I held my arms across my middle as I stared back into his apartment, the ocean behind me. Bowls of burning sand flickered inside. Sand spilled outside one, dropping into narrow lines that raced along the walls and illuminated the entire room with flames. The rock danced with shadows. A sweet fragrance reminiscent of sage floated past.
“I think I expected more arrogance.” I chucked Baxter in the ribs with my elbow. “Kind of like his son.”
He grinned, his teeth a flash of white against the growing darkness.
“Son of a god,” he murmured.
My amusement sobered as I gave him the best summary I could manage with my thoughts cast so far here and there. He listened intently, murmuring a question every so often.
“He basically said that I have a choice,” I finished with a heavy breath. “I can save Alkarra from Tontes by giving Ignis my allegiance . . . or I can choose goddess magic, and by extension Deasylva, and allow Tontes to take over Alkarra. Whether I believe it’s true that Tontes could defeat his sister so easily . . . I’m not sure.”
Baxter frowned. “Likely quite true, unfortunately.”
“Are the goddesses so weak?”
“It’s not necessarily about weakness, but more their differences. All of them have had two thousand years to prepare for a sort of re-match after the goddesses banished them. To my eye, Deasylva has prepared. The other goddesses? I wouldn’t know. Tontes has, certainly. He has the most active amulets, you noticed? Besides, the way the gods have structured their magic makes it faster, more versatile.” His brow rose. “You know how true this is, of anyone, right?”
I reluctantly nodded. Oh, how well did I understand.
Consternation filled his features as he fell into a long, vacant stare. A curl dropped on his forehead and I brushed it away. He blinked, peering at me with a little smile. I moved closer.
“But how god magic is used is also inherently weak in different ways,” I murmured to the thrum of the waves below. “Ventis can take your amulet at any time, can’t he?”
Hearing Baxter’s name in Ventis’ voice felt strange. All this time, he’d constantly joked about being the son of a god. Until this moment, it never seemed fully real.
“Baxter is . . . he’s wonderful.”
You two have formed a strong friendship.
He spoke with confidence, as if he had somehow sensed this truth himself. “Yes, I think so.”
Also with you is my granddaughter, Ava.
“She’s full of spirit.”
Like her mother, Christa. Ava and I have not formally met.
“So she’s mentioned,” I said wryly.
She doesn’t think highly of me. A note of regret lingered in his voice, woven around threads of something like amusement.
“No,” I murmured. “She doesn’t. I think she wants to love you, but she’d never admit it.”
Also like her mother, who sought refuge from life as a demigod in that small collection, with Ava’s Tama. It is not easy to be the child of a god.
“Baxter hasn’t had many complaints.”
Affection brightened his tone. Baxter is special. He always has been. His mother, Yamara, was the same way. Saw the goodness in everything.
“Was?”
Yamara has passed to the next world, where she continues to grow, though she misses our son.
His easily spoken words arrested my thoughts. The next world, where she continues to grow. Is that where Mama was now? Did she miss me as desperately as I did her? Undoubtedly. With the questions came a wave of surprise.
“I didn’t realize his mother was dead,” I murmured. “He never mentioned her, now that I think about it.”
The topic is a sensitive one.
“You still see Yamara?”
Always. Those I love are always with me, whether here or there.
The agony of losing Mama rippled through my mind in a wave. Did a god experience grief the same way as witches with each loss? For Ventis, Yamara wasn’t gone. Perhaps eternity wasn’t so bleak when one could see all.
Ignis provided a stark rebuttal to such a thought.
Mama’s eyes remained bright in my mind as I asked, “Do you love them? The women that bear your demigods.”
Each one.
“Is it worth it to love so many?”
Always.
The word expanded, rippling over the cavern walls in faint echoes. I tilted my head back, lost to the ringing.
“What is it like over there, on the other side?”
The wind stirred.
Better.
Longing welled up in me, and the sense of being a speck in great vastness. What I wouldn’t give to see Mama again. To know the other side, drawn like a dark curtain over this one. Ventis swept these thoughts away, bringing me into the moment again.
I apologize on behalf of my brothers for all that has befallen Alkarra. As soon as I heard the news that demigods may have been there years ago, I have attempted to learn more. Sending Baxter was a way for me to keep eyes on Tontes and his children.
The opening to get answers was a welcome one, though something cautioned me not to fully trust him.
“How did you know about the demigods going to Alkarra?”
My brother, Ignis. All of it originated with Prana.
Her name prickled coldly along my spine. “I’ve heard. Sounds like Prana is always creating trouble.”
A ripple moved through the cavern walls, as if Ventis made an mmm sound. I held onto a hammock when the ground shifted.
Indeed. Years ago, Prana came to Alaysia and spoke with Bram about magicless witches in Alkarra. His tone dropped into something like godly disgust. He eventually stole an amulet and went to Alkarra, which is when I learned of her involvement. You know the rest.
The puzzle pieces clicked more fully together. Prana’s appearance in the gardens at Chatham Castle. Her desperation to fix an error. Her reminder at the ocean. She wanted the demigods out of Alkarra so desperately because she had put them there.
A burning rage re-kindled deep in my chest. Though I’d known or surmised much of this already, Ventis had clarified the details. Until the intricacies were laid out, it had all felt nebulous.
“Prana,” I muttered.
The machinations of gods and goddesses, Ventis said, with warning, are not yours to judge.
The feeling of being chided, like a small child, set my teeth on edge. Did Ventis defend Prana? Ignis had warned me that life for goddesses and gods was different than witches expected. Their opinions and views are broader. I began to understand that now.
Tontes poses as your greatest obstacle for removing demigods from Alkarra.
“He’s not my obstacle,” I countered, “as much as he is yours.”
Oh? His voice curled in a way that I couldn’t possibly fathom. Do enlighten me.
“If you allow Tontes to continue attacking Alkarra, then your goddess sisters will get involved. Witches may not know all of Alkarran history, but I know enough to surmise you don’t want that to happen again.”
A wild bluff, mostly, based off what little Ignis had said. Posturing at its finest. Whether or not Ventis had reason to fear Deasylva, I wasn’t sure, but it felt obvious after all Prana had said. Prana feared Deasylva, so it stood to reason her brothers might as well. Not to mention the fact that Ignis actively wanted me to reject any form of allegiance to the goddess.
That meant something.
The only truth I clung to was the one I felt most certain about: trust no one.
Tontes has his own ideas of risks and rewards, Ventis mused. The rest of us don’t always follow.
“I find that hard to believe,” I said lightly, “considering that Ignis allowed his children to rise in an attempt to take Alkarra.”
And yet, he parried with a sharpness of tone, you still collude magic with him.
A crack of water slapping rock startled me. On the patio, a boulder rolled across the ground, water gushing behind it. The sea retreated, and the rock remained. Though I hadn’t moved, it felt as if the world flipped around beneath me.
I mentally backed down, duly reminded of my position in Ventis’ own Rostina.
The gods are touted as selfish, Ventis continued, but my sisters are equally so. Don’t let Deasylva fool you, Bianca. She desires your ability and loyalty as much as Ignis. Your status as a living amulet is not so much a question of magic, but a question of allegiance and power.
“Ignis has stated as much.”
He is wise, if not occasionally reckless.
Silence settled over the cavern while I absorbed what he said, broken by the whispers of water. Could I trust Ventis? Not wholly. Marten would never hail me as an Ambassador because alacrity wasn’t my forte, but I knew sincerity when I heard it. In regard to the magicks, I felt what Ventis said was true in my bones.
These two magicks couldn’t thrive in close proximity forever.
Although subtle, the god magic grew hotter daily, a gradual expansion and bullying. Goddess magic inched farther and farther away in response. I lifted my hands, peering at my fingers. A symbol of our ability as witches. The harnessing of magic to change our world. My throat dried like hot sand when I noticed that my fingers trembled.
“What happens if I forsake Deasylva?” I whispered.
Then you will be of the gods, he said brightly, and have all at your feet.
“I don’t want Alaysia.”
His tone lowered. Who said that you must settle for Alaysia?
I scoffed. “You think the goddesses would allow me to remain in Alkarra with god magic?”
If you are preventing the destruction of the land and another war of gods and goddesses?
The question had been drawled like a lazy yawn. With it, an assumption that the only path to save Alkarra was this one. I frowned at the implications. Living as a god magic amulet amongst witches. Able to do magic but . . . distinctly different.
Untenable.
By the good gods, though, it would be effective. Wouldn’t such a special ability make the most powerful Sisterhood in all the world? Matthais’ disregard for me doing the work of Protectors would fade into time and disrepute. He’d have no outdated opinion to stand on because I would be far more mighty than him.
The thought of such power used as a force for good through the Sisterhood—and for Alkarra—made me burn with hunger.
“Why would you let me save Alkarra?”
The question rang in the quiet for a moment.
Because it is yours to save. Tontes may desire another enemy and worthy foe, but we do not.
A sense of not having the bigger picture made this conversation feel like grasping at pieces in the dark. Assembling a puzzle by feel instead of sight. Why should I trust Ventis?
Could I afford not to?
The choice of your loyalty is not as simple as which god or goddess to accept, but whom will you save? If you want to save the land of Alkarra, you will remain with Ignis. Tontes will not back down from a fight. Competing god magic is all that stands between his domination of Alkarra and your freedom. Ignis has created an interesting weapon in you. You are, perhaps, the only weapon to stay Tontes.
“Goddess magic isn’t strong enough?”
The moment the words escaped me, I felt their foolishness. Didn’t I already know this? Demigods with god magic were stronger, faster, more powerful. God magic was frighteningly easy—how well I knew this.
Ventis only chuckled.
His words curled like burning paper in my chest, ashy, hot, smoky. This conversation felt like a declaration of war. A warning. Prudence pushed me closer to caution than posturing.
“Perhaps I should pay more attention to what Ignis says,” I murmured lightly, despite the proverbial knife I felt hovering at my neck.
It is all, he whispered, that we ask.
Surreal disbelief fueled the next hour of my life.
Alaysia moved like a dream around me as I contemplated my conversation with Ventis. A vague, distant paradise with sharp teeth. At the conclusion of our conversation, the wind had ushered me out. Baxter had been waiting outside his father’s doors, he’d wrapped me in his arms, and brought me . . . here.
His . . . castle within a castle.
With a hand on the small of my back, he ushered me into a broad room, large as the banquet hall. Soaring ceiling. Stained glass windows. Chiseled designs of playful wind curling up the walls, coy and flirtatious. Flecks of broken coral lingered in the sandstone walls, adding a sheen of color to the room.
I stopped, arrested by the swelling size, the daunting beauty. Caverns of rock, magic, and sand.
He paused, his breath a hitch.
“You all right, B?”
“Fine,” I whispered, not to disturb the reverence of such a place. He put a hand on my arm. I drew from deeper ruminations with a jerk. Concerned, grassy eyes peered at me. I sighed.
“I’m fine.”
He enveloped me in his arms until I felt the thud of our hearts mingling. My eyes closed. I swayed closer to him, breathing deep a musty, sweet smell. His body felt like the only true anchor I had. In mere moments, the rooms didn’t exist anymore, just the molding of the two of us. He held me tight, as if he sought the same stabilizing power. I sent aside thoughts of Merrick to focus on Baxter.
Sweet Baxter.
After my heart slowed, my courage returned. I pulled away to gaze into his worried eyes. The tip of his finger brushed a lock of hair away from my cheeks, tucking it behind my ear.
“You survived my father?” A wry smile reassured me that Baxter remained the Baxter I knew from Alkarra. I laughed softly.
“He was surprisingly approachable.”
A knock on the door rang into the room. He frowned.
“A moment, please.”
I nodded and he left with an irritated breath.
With life back in my body, my heart an easy plod again, I whirled around to contemplate these dauntingly majestic rooms. Hallways bled away from this space like life-giving arteries. Further elegance was hinted at between the interplay of shadow and light. Sheer curtains. Simplistic, plush furniture. Golden edges and murals with subdued, classic color palettes.
My feet itched to explore.
Instead of venturing into unknown territory that wasn’t mine, I drew closer to the wild. A balcony larger than the Upper Bailey at Chatham Castle sprawled outside. The wind played with my hair as I crossed to the side to peer at an endless skirt of water. The Rostina lu Lune sprawled to either side, impossibly endless. Instead of exulting in the adventure and glory of such a thrilling land, I thought of home.
Letum Wood.
Leda.
Marten.
Had Scarlett announced the new High Priest? And if so, who had she chosen? What topics had Hiddleston attempted to debate with Leda lately, if any? Such thoughts comforted me, as if I could keep my friends close by rumination. No letters had arrived, though I had only sent one myself.
Concerning, on many levels. Did the gods block the magic that brought letters?
Or had my friends forgotten me?
No, I doubted that.
Merrick’s intense figure lurked in the recesses, a shadow that I desperately wanted to think about, but held in reserve. Emerald eyes. Sandy hair. Quick smile set in chiseled features. Merrick and I had parted as friends. Yet despite attempts to turn thoughts of him away from my time here, he returned again and again.
A touch on the small of my back, and then a warm body at my side, drew me back to Alaysia. Thoughts of Merrick fractured into a thousand pieces when Baxter stood next to me, smiling wide. Falling daylight highlighted his handsome features, cutting shadows across the hollows of his cheek.
“So,” he murmured. “I want to apologize for not being with you when you were called to Father’s side. I had no idea that—“
I pressed my fingers to his lips.
“Not your fault,” I whispered. “I could have woken you, but you seemed tired. Gio said you wouldn’t be admitted, anyway.”
Curiosity stole across his features when my hand dropped. Brows lifted, he asked, “Dare I ask what Father said?”
My lips parted, then closed. I sighed. Ventis set out the terms of god magic quite clearly, but none of the words to summarize our conversation flowed. One thought looped around instead.
To whom do I belong?
The thought of Tontes overtaking Alkarra in a storm built in my mind. Lightning setting the forest on fire. Thunder so loud it would drown out reason. I could fight for Alkarra better with Ignis as my magic, and that’s what I didn’t want to admit.
Ventis was right.
Except for one if that lingered in the background.
Deasylva.
An unknown goddess, with quiet acclaim and a hidden presence in the land. Apparently, I knew of her. Perhaps through the forest. But I didn’t know her at all. The gods wanted me to make an impossible decision.
Choose their magic, their life, or a goddess who had never revealed herself. By sheer willpower, I kept my response to Baxter from wobbling like a drunk Guardian.
“I don’t know what to think about Ventis, honestly.”
“Was he kind?”
The blunt question startled me. I turned to face him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”
Baxter leaned his forearms on the bannister and gazed out. His eyelashes fluttered, busy with thoughts. “My father is a good god,” he murmured, “but he’s not perfect. I never know what side of him will come out.”
Is he a good god? I wanted to ask, but dismissed the thought. My darker side said no, there were no good gods.
“We all have demons,” I murmured to be gracious.
Baxter shifted, leaning his palms back on the railing. The effect of sunset on his skin made my breath catch in the back of my throat. The heat of his touch on my spine renewed in a flash of memory, then faded.
“Are you comfortable telling me what you discussed?” he asked. “Your conversation is yours. You have no obligation to me.”
But I did. Whether rooted in our friendship or the new, possibly romantic waters, I couldn’t be sure. My affection for Baxter was genuine, yet it wasn’t breathtaking, the way it had been with Merrick.
Expecting the two experiences to be similar sounded like madness itself, yet . . .
“Of course I’m comfortable with you.” I held my arms across my middle as I stared back into his apartment, the ocean behind me. Bowls of burning sand flickered inside. Sand spilled outside one, dropping into narrow lines that raced along the walls and illuminated the entire room with flames. The rock danced with shadows. A sweet fragrance reminiscent of sage floated past.
“I think I expected more arrogance.” I chucked Baxter in the ribs with my elbow. “Kind of like his son.”
He grinned, his teeth a flash of white against the growing darkness.
“Son of a god,” he murmured.
My amusement sobered as I gave him the best summary I could manage with my thoughts cast so far here and there. He listened intently, murmuring a question every so often.
“He basically said that I have a choice,” I finished with a heavy breath. “I can save Alkarra from Tontes by giving Ignis my allegiance . . . or I can choose goddess magic, and by extension Deasylva, and allow Tontes to take over Alkarra. Whether I believe it’s true that Tontes could defeat his sister so easily . . . I’m not sure.”
Baxter frowned. “Likely quite true, unfortunately.”
“Are the goddesses so weak?”
“It’s not necessarily about weakness, but more their differences. All of them have had two thousand years to prepare for a sort of re-match after the goddesses banished them. To my eye, Deasylva has prepared. The other goddesses? I wouldn’t know. Tontes has, certainly. He has the most active amulets, you noticed? Besides, the way the gods have structured their magic makes it faster, more versatile.” His brow rose. “You know how true this is, of anyone, right?”
I reluctantly nodded. Oh, how well did I understand.
Consternation filled his features as he fell into a long, vacant stare. A curl dropped on his forehead and I brushed it away. He blinked, peering at me with a little smile. I moved closer.
“But how god magic is used is also inherently weak in different ways,” I murmured to the thrum of the waves below. “Ventis can take your amulet at any time, can’t he?”
