But that was impossible without scorching Quentin. I refused to risk her, no matter how much my ambition pushed against my skull and sparked hot in my veins.
“Careful, brother,” I said, letting the anger shift from red-hot to silent and black. “It’s sounding like lower Elysia has more say in affairs than those on the council. We wouldn’t want them getting any ideas.”
His lip twitched at the comment. Attacking his ego always worked.
“She can rot for all I care,” he spat.
“Then why let her be trained at all? If you’re so determined for her to fail, why hand her to a God who would be desperate for her to succeed?”
“Because this time when she fails, which she will, Archer will have no one to blame but himself.”
I knew I needed to leave before it escalated into a fight where I lost control. The way he disregarded the prospect of her succeeding when it was her gift made me furious.
“Mark my words, Hunter, you’ll regret this decision,” I said, rising from the chair. “He can’t be trusted.”
“And neither can you.”
When Archer said that lower Elysia was less refined than its counterpart, he wasn’t joking.
The few memories I had of upper Elysia were bright and beautiful. Lush green grass, cobbled streets, white stone buildings. It was the picture of perfection that made something deep within me ache, like it was a missing piece I hadn’t realised was gone. A familiarity that I craved for my entire life.
Although lower Elysia was beautiful, it didn’t carry the same charm as the higher heavens. The residents were less composed and debauchery awaited around every corner. Casinos. Bars. Brothels.
Classical sins were only punishable if you were mortal. The Gods indulged with no concern for the consequences.
Over the course of the week, Archer escorted me through the streets of lower Elysia as he prepared for my gifting ball. No amount of reluctance from me got him to change his mind. Archer was planning to celebrate with me as the unwilling guest of honour.
The few trips we’d taken resulted in curious stares and whispers behind hands. For the first time in my life, I walked with my head down to avoid the crushing judgement that crowded in from every angle. It had worn me down and I decided it was better to pick my battles than be brash towards every single being I crossed.
When Gods were brave enough to approach, Archer became a physical barrier, telling them they would all be properly introduced at the ball. It begged the question of why he brought me out in the first place. He was a child, dragging me along like some prize that he coveted but refused to share.
“This is hardly keeping a low profile,” I said to Dionne as we walked to a boutique to pick up the dress for the evening.
Archer relinquished his duties to ensure the last of the party plans were on point for the evening. This was his gesture, and it needed to be perfect in the eyes of everyone he invited.
“I didn’t think he planned on introducing you to everyone in such a grandiose way,” she grumbled.
“Do any of you understand the term low-key?” I muttered under my breath. The only gifting ball I’d experienced was baby Cato’s, and if that was anything to go by, then this would be a lavish affair. “You’ve told Bexley about this?”
“As soon as I found out. She said she would pass on the information.”
I left the questions at that, unwilling to implicate the others by asking after them. The disappointment continued to swell at the thought of being rejected by Gods who had posed as my friends. A deep sense of abandonment accompanied me throughout the days. Dionne only ever mentioned Bexley, a Goddess I’d never spoken to. The rest of the elite remained silent spectres.
We avoided all the dens of sin and temptations, stepping into the glossy boutique. The stares I attracted on the streets were intensified in the small space. Dionne handled the talk and took the garment bag that held my dress for the evening’s festivities, before we returned to Archer’s home.
My steps were hurried, as I avoided the curious glances that were shot in my direction. Perhaps immortality didn’t require manners. Or maybe it was divinity. After all, who did the Gods answer to?
The outside of Archer’s grand house was elaborately decorated in shimmering streamers of deep green that fluttered in the gentle breeze. I lifted my hands, unbound by the cuffs, and tugged at one of the satin ribbons, ripping it down and then dropping it to the floor. It curled up on the ground like a snake and I pushed away the urge to continue tearing down the decorations, satisfied with crushing it under the sole of my shoe. The minor act of vandalism made me feel like I was fighting back, even if it was a completely ineffective gesture.
Dionne hurried me up the stairs to my room. The distinctive hum of chatter followed us as the ground floor filled with guests, but the host of the evening remained out of sight.
“What am I meant to expect from tonight?” I asked as she pulled the dress out and motioned for me to get out of my clothes.
Things had been frosty between me and Archer in the morning. He continued to slather on the charm, but there was a tension behind his words, and his smile was tighter than usual. At least he tried, which was more than I could say for myself. My politeness had withered away, replaced with abrasive irritation.
“A lot of peacocking.” Dionne shrugged. “Everything up here is a dick measuring contest.”
I huffed a breath out of my nostrils. “That’s not exclusive to Elysia.”
