“There were strange scars on his back. When I asked him where they’d come from, he refused to tell me. In the weeks that followed, intimacy between us declined. He would not let me touch him. And then he began to cover up, eventually donning the cloak he now wears. He grew mute, often not speaking for weeks.” Her eyes glisten in remembrance. “One particularly stormy autumn, Astraeus again took his son away. When they returned months later, Eurus had wings.”
My mind struggles to make sense of it. “How—?”
“Experiments,” she clips out. “Conducted by his own father to twist Eurus into some beastly creature. Eurus tried cutting them off—multiple times. But the wings always grew back.”
I can only sit there, tongue slack, mind encased in a white fog. “Why would his father do such a thing?”
“I’m not sure. Eurus never spoke of it.” The goddess taps the toes of one bare foot against the table. “But it changed him.”
What does it mean that my heart aches for him? “Is it true that the Council of Gods refused to intervene?” That is, after all, what the East Wind claimed. One of the reasons he plans to enact his revenge.
Something flits across Demi’s lambent gaze. It is gone before I have the opportunity to decipher it. “As I said, the Council of Gods does not intervene in private affairs on principle. Their duty is to uphold the realm. And in the City of Gods, there is no law against a father punishing his child.”
Punishing?“We are talking about abuse,” I whisper, horrified.
“I never said this world was kind,” Demi replies, her gaze hardening. “Remember that you are mortal, Min from Marles. But the divine?” She shrugs. “That is just how we live.”
I’m woken by thethunkof a lock, the creak of hinges. Low voices, muffled beyond the walls of the guest bedroom in which I now sleep.
“No, you can’t see her,” Demi hisses. “Come back tomorrow.”
“Itistomorrow,” Eurus snarls with an aggression that could only belong to an incensed predator. “Midnight has come and gone! The second trial begins at noon.”
“And?”
“And I require her presence, seeing as she is my assistant.”
I roll my eyes only an instant before I hear the goddess snort. Too stubborn, this god. “I believe you are confusingcaptivewithassistant. Min did not choose to work for you. She told me everything.”
Drip, drip, dripgoes the quiet, like a wound bleeding out.
Pushing upright in bed, I peer toward the soft glow coming from beneath the bedroom door. This flimsy slab of wood, all that stands between the East Wind and myself. “What did she tell you?” Eurus demands.
“Shehas a name, and it is Min.”
An unexpected rush of gratitude warms me. It is not Demi’s duty to shield me, but she has stepped in when I sorely need it.
The East Wind sighs, a sound of surrender. “What did Min tell you?”
“That is for me to know and for you to never find out. Let me be clear: the council has no interest in the affairs of a mortal, but I certainly do. If any harm comes to her, there will be hell to pay.”
“So, you finally grew a backbone.” Despite the words, there is little heat behind them, almost as if the fight has gone out of him. “Tell me, Demi. Where was the council whenIneeded them? How am I to know you will not harm her to get to me?”
Fisting the blanket, I draw it up to my shivering chest as the goddess scoffs. “I would never lay a hand on her. She is good—too good for you, as far as I’m concerned.”
When the East Wind speaks, it is slow, stilted with shame. “You are probably right about that.” Then he swears. “I know it may not seem like it, but I am doing my best to protect her.”
My palm lifts to cover my heart, which skips a beat. It is the strangest thing, but I believe him.
“Maybe you are,” Demi concedes, “but what happens if you perish in the tournament? What will happen to Min then? You know the council will not allow her to stay.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. I intend to win.” His wings stir with a delicate clatter of scales beyond the bedroom door. “Tell Min to meet me at the arena following breakfast.” A beat of silence passes. “Please.”
“I will. And Eurus?” There is a pause. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
He responds, almost too quietly for me to hear, “I know.”
The door shuts, and I roll onto my back, staring up at the darkened ceiling. I feel my pulse behind my eyelids, in the roots of my teeth. The East Wind belongs to this darkness, and I’ve the maddening notion to burst through the door and call him back. There is comfort in his presence. But there is a danger, too. Because sometimes, I yearn for things I dare not name.
