Seduction

by Jaymin Eve

  “I’m here with an official summons from the Great and Humble Creator,” the server started.

  Coen waved his hand, and let out a low grumble. “We know why you’re here, Greg, so can you just get to the point?”

  “Greg is Staviti’s personal server,” Yael murmured close to my ear.

  My spine tightened and I let out an exasperated huff of air. I had a few things to say to the Great and Humble Creator, and it was very difficult not to let the venomous things spew from my mouth. No doubt Greg would take everything I said straight back to him.

  She cleared her throat again and started speaking in her mechanical way, as though she was a recorded message repeating to us. “The six of you will be required to attend a special games event in the Sacred Sand Arena in Blesswood, tomorrow night. You will face a chosen group of challengers. You will not be permitted the use of your powers during this event.” Her large eyes turned to look directly at me. “Except for you, Willa Knight: you will still remain armed with whatever vestige of sol-power you possess.”

  She turned then, as though that was the whole message, and she didn’t really need a response.

  “Stop.” The command in Aros’s tone was enough to have all of us pausing.

  Greg turned back to face him, waiting expectantly.

  “Our punishment did not include Willa,” he said. “She won’t be fighting in the arena.”

  The server swayed on her feet, before a low gasp rocked from her mouth. “Staviti gave the order.” She didn’t look happy at the evidence of another god disobeying Staviti.

  Siret crossed his arms and leaned back against a nearby pillar. “He has no control over Willa. She’s not a god.”

  Greg cleared her throat again, and nodded briefly—though the movement was more of a bow. “Staviti would like it known that if he is disobeyed on this order, he will ensure that no sols ascend to godhood ever again.”

  A harsh curse burst from Rome, followed by multiple curses from the other Abcurses—distracting me from my own horror. I had been thinking about the fact that if no more sols became gods, then I would eventually be ripped away from them when one of my accidents finally hit the mark. But there was something more here. Something bigger than just me.

  “What does this mean?” I asked Coen, who was closest.

  His jaw was rigid as he tilted his hard stare in my direction. “Staviti can’t just stop sols from becoming gods. That process isn’t something in his control, despite what he wants everyone to think. It is a magic beyond our knowledge—we only influence and strengthen those who carry enough of the magic required to evolve.”

  Siret added, “It means he plans on locking up the sols, weakening them, draining their gifts, so that none will ever take the place of the current gods.”

  “He’ll eventually kill all the sols,” Rome finished.

  “I’ll do it!” I blurted out, turning to Greg, who had been quietly waiting. “I’ll fight in the arena; you can tell Staviti.”

  Greg nodded, and then with a pop, she disappeared.

  My chest was rattling as panic filled me. How could Staviti consider killing off an entire race of people, just because a few gods and a dweller-sol hybrid refused to participate in an arena battle? The sols might have been arrogant, shiny assholes, but they didn’t deserve to just be wiped out on the whim of a single god.

  I was pulled from my panicked thoughts as the five Abcurses formed a huddle. “Whose turn is it tonight?” Siret asked, his eyes flicking between his brothers.

  Turn? What the hell was he talking about?

  “It’s mine,” Yael declared, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. “But I think it’s a bad idea for any of us to be alone with her.”

  Right, bed arrangements. Well, that was as good a distraction as any.

  The sun was very dim in the sky, so I supposed it made sense that they would start trying to figure out where to sleep. I still couldn’t stop the snort from escaping, though. Yael would never usually admit to a weakness like that, which meant that he was worried. But seriously, did he really think that two Abcurses in my bed tonight would keep things from escalating? Not freaking likely.

  After they finished quietly discussing who my second babysitter for the night would be, Yael and Rome broke away from the pack and led me into one of the marble rooms. The doorway had been hidden behind rose bushes, and the scent of sweet honeysuckle drifted in as we descended the stairs into the main room. There were no windows, since the residences had been set down into the platform, but it didn’t feel small or claustrophobic. The space was spread out and open, a roaring fireplace the only light, it’s warmth pleasant as it brushed across my face. The boys stopped on either side of a mammoth bed that was dressed in white linens, with lots of fluffy pillows at the head.

  “Would you like to clean up?” Yael asked me, his eyes looking darker than usual in the muted lighting.

  I found myself unable to speak. There was an intimacy and tension ricocheting between the three of us, and it had something tightening low in my gut. I knew they were waiting for an answer, so I quickly nodded my head. Not speaking at all seemed like the safest option.

  Rome was the one to stride to a darkened wall and open a door I hadn’t even seen there. “The bathing room is in here; I’ll help you with the controls.”

  Swallowing hard, my feet were moving before my brain even registered what he’d said. Yael followed close behind me, for once his overly-brash arrogance tucked completely away. Stepping into a large and brightly lit room, I noticed that there were small illumination domes on the walls, and I watched Rome stop beside a huge, rounded shape on the floor as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. My brow furrowed as I crossed to him and stared down into it.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  He smiled, an actual real smile, and it was so shocking that I stumbled forward and almost fell head-first into the big bowl.

  “This is a bather, we can fill it with water and you can relax in there.”

  I gave the bather another suspicious stare. “Where does the water come from?”

  Rome lifted his head and stared at the ceiling: I followed his gaze but couldn’t see what he was looking at. Then water started to fall, like rain, sprinkling the bottom of the bather. Glancing back at Rome, I noticed his hand against a panel on the wall.

  “It’s all controlled from here,” he told me. “But you don’t have to worry, I’ll set you up and then you can call when you’re ready to get out.”

  I nodded with enthusiasm; suddenly, I could think of nothing better than crawling in and letting the water wash over me. “It’s like climbing into a well while it’s raining, just … smaller,” I decided out loud. Which was lucky, because I couldn’t swim.

  Yael chuckled. “Yes, but this is warm, and the water has natural minerals to help clean and refresh your skin.”

  “Not drowning is probably the main benefit,” Rome concluded.

  Shaking my head, I ducked down and grabbed my right shoe as I started to hop around in an attempt to pull it off. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t drowned even once, and I’ve fallen into at least three wells.”

  It had been close that last time: Emmy had been forced to loop all of our bed sheets together to get me out—but they didn’t need to know that part. “So, you don’t have to worry about me,” I finished, hopping a few more times before losing my balance and tumbling over.

  Yael had me up and off the ground in a fraction of a click. “Why do I not believe you, Willa-toy? Something tells me there will never be a time where we don’t have to worry about you.” He deposited me on a small chair I hadn’t noticed in the corner of the marble room. “Foot!” he demanded, holding his hand out.

  I lifted my right leg, the red dress riding up even further so that my new, Siret-fashioned underwear was very clearly on display. Yael’s eyes briefly moved up my leg, but he didn’t say anything as he caught my ankle in his firm grip. He rested the ball of my foot against his abdominals, befo
re sliding his hands down to the top of my boots. Fingers brushed against the skin which showed between my dress and boots.

  I shifted in my chair then, forcing myself not to reach out and pull him to me. With slow movements, he slid the top of my boots down, before lifting my foot completely. My mouth was dry by the time he finished the second boot, and I was starting to think that he had done it to me deliberately.

  “Bather is ready,” Rome said, and I sprang to my feet.

  Somehow, I managed not to trip and slam into Yael, who still stood close by, and I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved by that. I was one big ball of tension by the time I crossed the bathing room. The bowl was about half full, and water still trickled in gentle streams from the ceiling. “Do you need help with the dress too?” Yael grinned darkly. He was still holding my boots in his hands.

  I shook my head quickly. “No … I’m good.” I probably wasn’t. Siret fitted everything so firmly to my body that it was nearly impossible to get it off without help, but I would be damned if I ended up naked in front of them again this sun-cycle. There was only so much a girl could handle.

  Eleven

  As it turned out, Siret hadn’t just moulded the ridiculous dress to my body—he had finished off the design without a single fastening. No zips. No buttons. He was trying to keep my clothes on by making them impossible to take off. Unfortunately, that also made it impossible for me to clean myself. I considered my options as the sound of slowly-trickling water drew me to the bather. I could call one of the guys in again, but things were already tense enough without me asking them to rip the dress off my body. I might have accidentally flashed them a lot, but I wasn’t going to deliberately torture them. Not when they had made the girl-brother pact to keep the dynamics of our group intact. I could feel the lines slipping already, but I could also see how uneasy it was making them. I almost suspected that they were each torn between wanting to act before anyone else did, and wanting to maintain distance so that the others would do the same.

  As for my feelings … I didn’t even know what they were. I didn’t want to mess up the dynamic of our group either, but I completely lost all cognitive function whenever one of them touched me. I wanted them. All of them. Equally.

  “I’m aware that’s physically impossible,” I told the bather, since the water chose that exact moment to stop trickling and it seemed like a sign. “I didn’t mean at the same time.”

  The bather didn’t respond, which was hardly surprising, and then I was back to my original conundrum.

  How to get the dress off.

  I started pacing by the side of the bather, but then stopped to try and concentrate, placing my hands against the dress.

  “Chaos,” I whispered. Nothing. “Fire Chaos?” This time it was a question, but still, nothing happened. “Gods-dammit.”

  I closed my eyes and thought back to what Leden had said about Chaos being in the intention, instead of the word.

  “I intend to set my dress on fire,” I muttered, and then I visualised flames crawling over the tight material for good measure.

  The tickle of warmth was the only indication that I had succeeded, and I opened my eyes to the image of material flaking away from my body in smouldering pieces. My mouth dropped open as I watched the little embers float around the room. It was strangely beautiful, and not at all what I would categorise as chaotic … until one of the embers landed on a stack of fluffy-looking white towels, and then suddenly there was a real fire.

  “Shit.”

  I rushed over to a fancy pearl-toned bowl that was sitting on a little side table—it didn’t seem to serve any purpose other than decoration—and quickly knelt down by the side of the bather. I filled it and leapt toward the towels, dumping water onto the flames. Once the small crisis was averted, I returned to the bather and slipped into the water, luxuriating in my small victory. I was so busy luxuriating that it came as a jarring surprise to me when I stepped out half a rotation later and realised that I had nothing to wear.

  I also had no towels.

  The flames hadn’t caught onto all of them, but the pile was a soot-smudged, sopping mess. I walked to the door and opened it a crack.

  “Rome?” I called.

  He appeared a moment later, his brows lowering in suspicion. “Why are you showing me a single eyeball right now?”

  “I was just wondering if I could borrow your shirt.”

  “Why?” His expression grew dark, his huge arms folding across his chest. He actually looked like he would refuse me on principle. I wasn’t sure what the principle would be.

  “Did you see that dress?” I faked a light tone. “It was ridiculous.”

  His mouth twitched. Just a little bit. “Siret likes to abuse his power.”

  “You all do. You’re all regular power-abusers.”

  The dark expression was back. “There’s nothing regular about us.”

  “Okay yes you’re very special. Can I please have your shirt now. Your special shirt.”

  He reached back over his shoulder, grabbed a handful of material and pulled it up and off, holding it out to me. I tried not to stare at all of the bare, golden skin that he had just put on display.

  “I don’t appreciate the tone.” He pointed a finger at my face as I took the shirt. “But it is a special shirt, so try not to burn it.”

  “Liar.” My voice was muffled because I had already pulled the shirt through the opening and was tugging it over my head. “You don’t think it’s special at all, you just don’t want to see me naked again.”

  “Not the words I would have chosen,” he mumbled.

  I shook out the shirt so that it fell comfortably around my legs, and then I pulled the door fully open, leaning against the door jamb and folding my arms over my chest. Rome’s eyes slipped from my face, taking in the sight of his shirt falling to my knees, and then he pulled me from the opening. One hand was planted on my shoulder, steering me back toward the main room. Yael was standing in front of a low table that had two armchairs on either side of it, arranged before the fireplace. The entire surface of the table had been covered in food, and I was too hungry to even question where it had all come from. I rushed over, fell to my knees, and started stuffing grapes into my mouth. There was a lot of fruit on the table … and wine. I paused, pulling back a little as I finished chewing the grapes. There was some sort of cooked bird on a platter, decorated with spikey herbs.

  “This is the most stereotypical meal of the gods that I’ve ever seen,” I stated blandly.

  “Didn’t know you dwellers had theories on what we eat.” Yael was loading a plate and pouring wine at the same time, his eyes focussed on the task.

  “The gods are pretty much the only thing that the dwellers talk about,” I informed him, accepting the plate that he handed me. “They think about what you’re eating while they have hard bread for the seventieth life-cycle in a row. They think about where you’re sleeping while they curl up on the floor. They think about what you’re wearing while they scrape for enough tokens to mend a shirt.”

  I started to load my plate up while Rome sat silently in one of the chairs, his eyes flicking between me and Yael. Yael had stopped everything, and was now just kneeling there beside the table, staring at me. Eventually, he reached for the goblet that he had been pouring into, and took a long swig.

  “That’s depressing as fuck,” he finally noted.

  “You wouldn’t know.” I shrugged, sitting back on the floor and attempting to speak between bites of food. “The gods only watch the sols—and the dwellers around the sols. Nobody watches the dwellers in the outer rings; nobody cares about them. They’re just a living server-farm for Staviti.”

  Yael winced, but Rome remained stony-faced, and we finished eating in silence. My thoughts were drifting back to Emmy, wondering where she was and what she was doing. She was tough, and smart—I wasn’t too worried about her safety—but I hated that I wasn’t there for her. She was still trying to deal with Atti’s de
ath and I had disappeared again.

  “The Mortal Glass,” I said, breaking out of my thoughts and glancing up to find Yael seated in the chair across from Rome. “Can I use it to see Emmy?”

  “Was wondering when you’d ask,” Rome stated, standing from the chair and walking to a small table beside the bed.

  I recognised the gilded frame, and the glittery black stone set into the oval. He handed it to me, and I gripped it tightly, closing my eyes and thinking of Emmy with intention, just the same way as I had manifested the fire to burn my dress.

  “What the hell?” An all-too-familiar feminine shriek filled the marble room, and I jerked back from the mirror.

  The guys moved behind me and we all huddled forward again, watching Emmy’s image manifest into the glass. She was sitting up in her bed, the sheet clutched to her chest, her hair tousled around her shoulders.

  Cyrus was standing in the doorway.

  “What the hell?” I echoed, only a few decibels quieter than Emmy.

  “I didn’t realise you would be sleeping.” Cyrus sounded too formal, and he looked like he wanted to back out of the room and close the door, but he stood his ground.

  “Who … who are you?” Emmy was scrambling out of bed, her eyes wide in fright.

  She could clearly see that Cyrus—with his striking looks and white robes—wasn’t a dweller. She still reached for the lamp beside her bed and held it out before her like a weapon.

  “I am Cyrus,” he replied, eyeing the lamp in almost-amusement. “The current Neutral God.”

  “Current?” She hastily set aside the lamp, and then started attempting to straighten up her sleep clothes. “I thought gods couldn’t die?”

  “A conversation for another time. I am here to inform you that Willa is with Abil’s sons in … a secure location.”

  Emmy dropped all pretences of trying to be presentable and polite in front of the god that had stepped into her bedroom. She slumped down to sit on the side of the bed and let out a groan, her head falling into her hands.

  “She snuck back into Topia again, didn’t she?”