“No, the second. Not that he’d be opposed to a good campaign of conquest. I’ve just told him that Wesha wouldn’t let them through the Gates even if the gods did agree on something for once.” Taran surveyed the food, then used tongs to remove some pink slices of fish edged in caviar from the robes of Marit’s ice statue.
“But is sending a giant wave to teach us a lesson entirely off the table?” I asked unhappily.
“Yes,” Taran said, tone light. “Marit doesn’t have the power to manage it anymore.” He added prawns to the plate with a dollop of sauce. “Have you ever had these shrimp things? Are they any good? I can’t remember.”
I ignored his question for a change.
“And Death?”
“Death is not going to come and snatch you in the night, little priestess. As I’ve told you, I’ll keep you far out of his way.”
“How can you say that, if you don’t know where he is or what he’s planning?”
Taran scrunched up his proud face in distaste at my repeated demand for basic information about the god who’d spent three years trying to murder me.
“Why should I keep track of him? If he’s back, there’s no reason to think he’ll do worse than pound on Wesha’s door to insist on his marital rights, which is all he’s done for centuries. Honestly, they deserve each other.”
At my wounded look, Taran rolled his eyes.
“Wesha’s well capable of defending herself, likely because she never bothers to defend anyone else. Certainly not you, my darling. So please forgive me if I choose to reserve my protection for those who merit it.”
I gnawed on the inside of my lip, wrapping my new cloak more closely around myself. He had undeniably done that, despite his enormous deception. Kept me and the young acolytes safe. Genna hadn’t asked him to do that—probably would not even have approved, since he’d been sent to bring us back in line. Perhaps he’d done the best he could under Genna’s command.
“Teuta told me what happened with Marit. With his priests,” I said tentatively.
“With his priests?”
“How you saved them. Even though you had to kill your friend.”
Taran paused before answering. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
I was very alert to the caution in his voice, what he wasn’t saying.
“Isn’t it true? Teuta told me—”
“It’s true. I did kill him, though he doesn’t remember that half the time.”
The little evasion there was obvious to me.
“You mean you didn’t try to save the rest of his priests?”
With a little shrug, Taran popped a prawn into his mouth. “It’s against the Allmother’s laws to interfere with another Stoneborn’s priests, so I couldn’t have done anything for them even if I’d wanted to. Genna was angry at me for letting Marit out of the well, and I was strongly urged to clean up my mess before he destroyed her palace too.”
He said it with total unconcern, but I marked the way he looked away and kept his expression bland.
“You’re lying.”
All the gods damn him, I’d made him promise to answer my questions, but I hadn’t made him promise to answer themtruthfully.
I was never going to survive this place. I was like a toddler in a foundry, wandering around with arms outstretched. My chagrin must have showed on my face, because Taran almost smiled.
“Am I? Oh fine, you caught me.”
If I had to live in this world, with all these merciless gods, I wouldn’t reveal it either if I had a soft spot for mortal lives. I clung stubbornly to the hope that Taran had failed to put down the mortal rebellion because of it.
“Why did you kill him?” I asked again. We were alone in the big banquet hall, with echoes muffled by the high coffered ceilings. Maybe he’d tell me the truth.
Taran shrugged uncomfortably.
