“So what you’re saying is that your word means nothing.”
The goddess opens her mouth, closes it. A bell chimes, signaling the start of dinner.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, all but tripping in my haste to escape the study.
As guests begin moving toward the dining room, I search for Eurus. Our eyes meet across the parlor. His wings flare slightly, forcing others back.
He is one stream, and I another. We carve our paths, meeting beneath the large, glittering chandelier. As he takes my hand, his wingscurve at my back, helping to cloak me from passersby. “What’s wrong, bird?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter.
He glares at something over my shoulder. Demi, I assume.
“We should take our seats,” I say. “Is everything prepared?”
“Everything is as it should be.”
My belly roils at that.His decision, I remind myself. In the end, I control nothing. It is his life, not mine. Even if the thought of a world without the divine leaves me drenched in sweat.
The dining room boasts a long table surrounded by no less than one hundred chairs. Each seat is marked with a place card. Eurus and I sit next to each other somewhere near the middle, with a clear view of the lightning god, who sits at the head.
The first course is served. Then: wine, sloshed into jeweled chalices. The divine drain their goblets, signal for more. My eyes flick to the place cards, then to the individuals seated around me. Seeing as Eurus did not warn me against it, I assume it is safe to eat, and to drink.
Throughout the meal, conversation builds and wanes. What does Eurus think as guests gulp glass after glass? Demi is on her third drink, I believe. Not that she deserves my concern.
At some point, the lightning god pushes to his feet, his chalice lifted. “To the victor.”
The attendees follow suit. “To the victor!”
He turns to appraise the East Wind, who stares back at him calmly. “Congratulations on your accomplishment,” he says. “Of over one hundred competitors, you alone triumphed. It speaks of your diligence, your unflagging perseverance. I cannot think of anymore more deserving.” He lifts his glass. “To Eurus.”
“To Eurus!”
Glasses clink. Once the commotion has died down, the lightning god continues. “As you know, the reward for winning the tournament is a favor of your choosing from the council. This is not granted lightly. We will do our best to accommodate your request, should it be within our power to do so. Have you considered what favor you would like?”
Demi looks to Eurus, then to me. I glance away, fighting an odd sense of guilt.
“I’d like more time to think about it,” the East Wind says, “if you are amenable?”
I wipe my mouth, having already resigned myself to a sad, lonely night. Then I frown, replaying his response. Wait… What does Eurus need to think about, exactly? Reversing the banishment was always the plan.
The lightning god appears intrigued, as does the rest of the council. Asking for an extension is likely unprecedented.
“Very well,” the lightning god says. “I will give you until the end of the month, by which time you must decide on your favor.”
With that, everyone returns to their meal. Dessert is served. The plates are cleared. People begin to amble back into the parlor for another drink.
Meanwhile, Eurus rises to his feet, and I scramble upright as well, accepting his offered arm as we return to our suite. There is much I might ask of him, but I hold my tongue. An echoing passage is not ideal for private conversation.
Once we’ve returned to our rooms, I pull away from him. “What was that?” I demand.
“What was what?”
“Why didn’t you ask the council to reverse your banishment?”
He strays toward the sofa and settles into its cushions, his back to me. “I need more time to think about it.”
Moretime? “But you’ve had many hundreds of years to consider this.” Possibly more. After all, I do not know how long the East Wind has been exiled from the City of Gods.
