I spin on my heel to see Cassia hefting my sword with two hands. Or trying to. The tip never leaves the ground. Goran reaches her first and pries it from her stiff fingers.
“I’m not dying today,” she says in a shaky voice. “I’m not.”
I take the sword from Goran and point it at her chest. “Technically, you’re already dead.”
She winces. “I’m not dying twice today.”
My nostrils flare. She’s one more in a long line of girls. A mortal. She would’ve died in a handful of decades anyway. Maybe sooner given the war.
“Theodric?” Goran’s voice is laced with worry and shock.
I know if I look at him and see even a trace of victory I’ll change my mind, so I focus on the floor instead. “Take her to the house.” The words burn their way from my throat.
Cassia gapes at the gleaming blade as I step close to Goran. I slip the onyx ring off my middle finger and press the band into his palm, giving him a piece of what little power I still have. “Go down there. I want to know everything about her before the end of the day,” I whisper. “And watch your back.”
Goran opens his mouth to speak but shuts it in favor of a single nod.
I leave them, retracing my steps to the mansion in a blind fury.
This can’t be a coincidence. Granted, Kisk doesn’t have many options for a sacrifice, but the one girl I showed any interest in? The believers didn’t know me. They couldn’t recognize me. Not that they were paying any attention to us. Astra said she couldn’t hear what they were talking about before the woman attacked, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was this. Sacrificing Cassia. Somehow they were put up to this.
Ebris.
He can’t get me to stop the war by asking nicely, so he’s decided to play dirty. The high priest wouldn’t dare send an unwilling sacrifice unless he was influenced to. Desperate or not, it’s a slap in Drea’s face to steal a life, and the Kiskens can’t afford to offend her right now. Not when she could cut the heart from the island and let it die a slow, agonizing death.
A servant stands in the courtyard, raking footprints from the fine, black gravel. He freezes as I rush forward, the rake paused mid-swipe. “Move,” I say without slowing. He darts to the side and scrambles away from the house. I don’t see if he disappears into the outer wall; I’m already inside, slamming the door to the war room.
I toss the broadsword onto the long table covered in maps and grip the back of a wooden chair. A thin strip of blood shines along its edge. The more I try to calm my rapid breaths, the harder my lungs fight to inhale. What did I do? I shove the chair aside and snatch a paperweight from the desk, hurling it at the bookshelves.
The glass ball explodes in a shower of tiny, glittering black shards. I pant as it scatters over the floor. What didn’t I do? Whatever game Ebris is playing, he’s playing it well. And I’m playing right into it. I should march back to the temple and finish Cassia before it’s too late. Before she gets anywhere near the Wall or steps foot in this house.
But, it’s already too late. I panicked when I recognized her. I shouldn’t have but I did. Now the thought of killing her paralyzes me. Death is too permanent to leave unanswered questions. I need to know why I hesitated, but, sacrifice or not, I will maintain control over this war. I have to.
I burrow beneath a heavy blanket that reeks of dust and mildew. A hard lump in the mattress digs into my side. I roll onto my back, my head pounding. I blink heavy eyelids as a groan slips from my mouth. Strands of cobwebs sweep down from an elaborate rib-vault ceiling, making a design of their own. I blink again and memories from yesterday crash over me. The zealots. The drugs. The murder. My hand flies to the left side of my neck where the cut Theo gave me still stings.
But Theo shouldn’t exist because gods don’t exist. They’re fairy tales created thousands of years ago by people desperate for something to believe in.
I jump out of bed and my stomach churns so violently, I grab the uneven mattress for support. The wine. I had too much of it in the temple yesterday after the whole near-second-murder. The Asgyan—What is his name?—thought he was being kind as he spoke comforting words and offered something to calm me down.
I didn’t want to calm down. I wanted to scream and hit something, anything, including him. But I also wanted to forget what happened. So, when he poured a glass of ruby liquid, I snatched the entire bottle from him instead. The alcohol was more pungent than I expected, but it didn’t stop me from guzzling far more than I should have. Apparently I’m a lightweight because I don’t remember much after that.
So where am I?
Hazy sunlight sneaks in around wooden shutters. I push myself upright, crossing the cool floor. One of the slats is broken. When I peek outside, all I see is a sky so blue it can’t possibly be real.
Panic thunders through me until I can’t see straight. Maybe I am dead and this is some sort of warped afterlife. It seems more realistic than gods. My fingers slide up the slatted window coverings until I locate rounded knobs through the hazy gray of the room. They don’t budge as I tug. The musty air is hot. So hot. The dark hues of the room close in on me. I clench my teeth to hold back a cry and throw my weight into the shutters. Pressure builds behind my eyes, but I ignore it. I haven’t cried since my parents died and I’m not going to start now.
A bulb flicks on overhead and I spin around with a yelp. My knee slams against one of the massive bedposts. I stumble back to the wall and breathe through the blazing pain as the Asgyan from the temple smiles in the doorway. Emotions flash in and out too fast for me to grasp a single one. Anger, fear, denial. Humiliation at what I may have done after blacking out. Hatred for what his country has done to mine, both now and for all the years they controlled Kisk as a colony, stuffing their way of life down our throats. But I block each thought as it sails to the front of my mind. He can’t be blamed for what his country did eight hundred years ago any more than I can be blamed for what my brother did. Plus, between him and Theo, he seems like my best chance at getting out of here in one piece.
“We do have electricity,” he says. “Unless you’re trying to air the room out, in which case you’ll likely need a crowbar.”
I rub the soft spot beside my bruised kneecap. “What?”
“A crowbar,” he repeats. “The windows haven’t been opened in ages.”
“Do you happen to have one?” So I can beat you over the head with it.
He smiles again, one side of his mouth lifting to reveal a dimple. “Not on me.”
“Shame.” I rub my nose with the back of my hand and take in the details of the eight-sided room for the first time. Half the space is taken up with stacked furniture: tables, chairs, dressers, a desk, other things I can’t make out, all pressed against one side of the bed. The rib-vaults are intricate; one line runs into another which loops around another in one seemingly endless line. The floor is rough, untreated wood, and gold wallpaper curls away from the wall. “Hey, um…”
“General Goran Marinos, Resident Adviser to the God of War.” He gives a slight mock bow. “But Goran is fine.”
“Right.” I hesitate. If I could remember more about yesterday, this might be slightly less awkward. “Is there a reason you stuck me in storage?”
“We don’t keep rooms ready for guests. This was the best I could do on short notice.” He scans the room. “I’m sorry.”
“So Theo wasn’t hoping I’d be crushed to death in my sleep and save himself the trouble?”
“No.” Goran steps closer, a glint of amusement playing on his refined features. “You can’t die here.”
I straighten, forgetting my aching knee, and stare at him. “Of course I can die. Theo was about to kill me yesterday.”
“You can’t,” he says. I open my mouth to call him a liar but he keeps talking. “You belong to the War God now. Only he can decide your fate.”
He says it with such a straight face that my breath sticks. “Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t belong to anyone.”
“The gods are ancient. So are their customs and laws. Try not to be offended. Instead, think of it as an honor to be in the high esteem of one of your creators,” he says patiently.
“An honor? High esteem?” A laugh spills from my gut, angry and erratic. “You’re serious? He doesn’t look very ancient to me. And maybe it’s time they rewrite the laws.”
Goran folds his arms across his chest. I catch a glimpse of criss-crossing scars on his knuckles. “Time is slower here. He’s both ancient and the equivalent of a seventeen-year-old.”
I laugh again. He can’t mean that—that would imply Theo was waging wars since childhood. When Goran doesn’t join me, I push away from the wall. The laughter gives way to a yawning chasm in the pit of my stomach. “Great. I get to live as the property of a psychopathic, mass-murdering deity. No, thanks.”
“You don’t get to change your mind,” he says quietly.
“You’re suggesting this was a choice I made?” My heart threatens to beat through my chest. “It’s no wonder people stopped believing in all this cruel, barbaric nonsense.”
“The Gods have never been cruel, Cassia. Strict but not cruel. People want to do right by them, or they used to.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I’ve never had to have this conversation before. I’m obviously doing it wrong.”
“You mean the welcome-to-eternal-servitude speech?” I grumble.
He takes a deep breath. “I understand the truth is new and confusing. While I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling, I can try to make things easier for you. Theodric isn’t as bad as he seems, but there are a lot of dynamics at play right now. You complicate his situation. But, between you and I, I’m laying a good portion of hope at your feet.”
“Mistake number one,” I say. There’s no reason someone like me, with no war experience, should give him hope for anything.
“Perhaps.” He smiles again, his spirits renewed. “If you can stop being angry for two minutes, maybe you’ll find a bit of hope yourself.”
“Hope for what? You just told me I’m a prisoner.”
“You’re not a—” He releases a sharp breath. “Forget I said you belong to Theodric, all right? Think of yourself as a…special house guest.”
“House guests can leave,” I say from between my teeth.
“You’re welcome to explore anywhere you’d like. My suggestion is to stay out of the Wall, but I’m not your keeper.”
No, you’re not. But a spark of curiosity keeps me from saying so. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Should I stay out of the Wall?”
He blinks slowly. “There are roughly three hundred men living there. And, while they were honorable enough to have sacrificed themselves to Theodric, I can’t speak to each man’s character.”
Curiosity squashed. “What am I supposed to do then? Scrub floors? Polish boots? Because I promise my cleaning skills are sub-par.”
He cocks his head and stares at me. “You don’t know anything about how sacrifices work?”
“No. Well, maybe.” I scowl as I try to remember everything I learned in mythology class. The painting of a two-headed buffalo with a thirst for blood is hard to forget. Blood was mentioned a lot, actually. But if everything they taught was true, Theo would be flying around on a chariot made from the swords of fallen soldiers. “I didn’t pay much attention,” I admit.
“Of course not,” he says, more to himself than me.
“I didn’t know I’d be in this situation,” I snap. Besides, other things were more important than school at the time. My brother was arrested a week before classes began, and the trial lasted throughout the year. If we hadn’t been bombed to smithereens, I would’ve repeated all my classes. “So, you’re right,” I add. “Of course not. Why would I pay attention to stupid stories when I needed to concentrate on things that actually mattered?”
He holds his hands up. “You’re being difficult on purpose.”
I walk across the room and poke him in the chest. “Screw you.”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I growl. A flush of anger sweeps through me, but I’m directing it at the wrong person. Theo did this. He singled me out last night. He’s the reason I’m here. Then why did he look so surprised in the temple? I shake the thought away. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
I put my hands on my hips and dig my fingers into the gauzy fabric. “Don’t play stupid. You know who I’m talking about.”
“Theodric is busy preparing for—”
“I’ll find him myself.” I squeeze by Goran into a hall with green wallpaper and clear blown-glass wall sconces. My breath echoes in my ears as I barrel down two floors on a spiral staircase of black wrought iron. Once I reach a grand entryway with dark wooden paneling and a tan marble floor, I pause to catch my bearings. There are only four interior doors, two across from me and one behind. The last is directly across from the front door. Hallways branch off on either side. Time seems to slow as I realize how long this could take on my own.
“Theo!” I call.
Goran sprints after me. “What are you doing?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.
“What does it look like?” I ask. “I’m getting answers.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors.”
“Theo!” My voice echoes through the entryway. “We need to talk,” I call. Goran pleads silently for me to stop, his eyes wide and glistening. I look away. “Theo!”
Footsteps thunder down the same steps I just came down. A pair of black boots come into view. I shuffle back as Theo rounds the staircase wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt. I don’t know how I failed to notice how different he was in Kisk—maybe I did but didn’t understand what I was seeing. It’s more than his ridiculously good looks that make him intimidating. It’s the overpowering way he carries himself. The untouchable arrogance and supernatural superiority. It wraps around me like vines, squeezing. My courage folds in on itself and, at the sight of the sword swinging from his hip, evaporates.
I lock my knees to keep myself standing and clasp my hands behind my back. He can’t see how badly they shake or know how badly I want to vomit if I’m going to gain any sort of advantage.
“What is this?” he growls at Goran.
Goran steps between us. “She—”
“I don’t need anyone to speak for me.” I smack the back of my hand against Goran’s chest and push him out of the way. “What am I doing here, Theo?”
Tiny crinkles form between his brows as he squints. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “If you want to leave, I can finish what I started in the temple. It would be a quick death.”
My nerves spark and, before I can stop myself, I slap him. I gasp and clamp a hand over my mouth. I’ve never hit anyone before. This probably isn’t the best time to start nor is he the best person to start with. However much I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be dead dead more.
His hands flex, balling into fists, and the rest of his body grows eerily still. I need to apologize but can’t remember how to speak. My chest heaves with each breath as we stare each other down.
“Theodric?” Goran’s voice is strained, his movements jerky in my peripheral vision.
Whatever held Theo back snaps and he advances. Each step he takes, I take one back, until my lower back smacks into a wooden credenza. The rich scent of soap and cool metal reaches my nose as he towers over me. I hold my breath, refusing to look any higher than his wide shoulders. No part of me wants to see the look on his face, and I can’t let him see the fear on mine.
“Never touch me again,” he breathes.
“Says the guy that tried to decapitate me.” I bite my tongue to hold back a groan. What’s wrong with me? Stop talking.
His shoulders rise with a deep breath. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. Stay out of my sight unless you want me to rethink the decision.”
I take a shaky breath. “You
’ll never have to see me again if you send me back.”
An angry laugh slips from his lips. “If only I could.”
“You’re a god. You can do whatever you want.”
The air grows heavy, weighing me down from every direction. I don’t move and neither does Theo. My anger at him, at the zealots, my brother, at being murdered and waking up here, simmers when I look up to see my fury matched in his expression.
“Tell me, Cassia.” My name is nothing more than a hiss against his tongue. “What do you hope to accomplish here?”
“Unwilling sacrifice,” Goran says quietly behind him.
I shoot Theo a sarcastic smile. “What he said.”
He leans closer, his nose an inch from mine, and flares his nostrils. “Yes, but now that you’re here, what would you have me do? It’s your right as a sacrifice, isn’t it?”
Is it? The reason I was killed hasn’t crossed my mind—why doesn’t matter. I loved Kisk once; it was home. I had a family and friends and a life; I tried not to blame the others for hating me, because they lost the same things I had. I even held onto hope that after the war, when things got better, I could find a way to fit in. But Nessa said the entire city agreed to the sacrifice. They turned on me when I did nothing to them. I suppose they thought the person that got Kisk into the war should get them out. Too bad that someone swung from a noose over a year ago. An old sliver of resentment splinters open. Vengeance leeks out, swirling and twisting around me until that’s all that fills me.
“Nothing,” I whisper. “I’d have you do nothing.”
His pupils dilate. He stays close, his gaze traveling over my face, and my pulse slows. My fingers relax at my sides and I exhale slowly. The crisp metallic scent of Theo is still there. His jaw is set and his body is held tight, but I’m not afraid. Well, not as afraid. Maybe he’ll kill me, but I doubt it. I don’t know why, given the way he’s staring at me, but there’s a change in the gap between us. A calming in the static.
When Goran fakes a cough, Theo steps back and mumbles to his adviser before disappearing around a corner at the back of the mansion.
Fragile Chaos Page 4