As I stepped onto the tube, the ripple of familiarity ran through me. Turning my head left and right, I spotted Ig sitting at the end of the carriage and observing me. I suppressed a sigh and trudged down the aisle towards him.
My head was still spinning after Larkin’s confession and I wondered if the other Gods truly did not know what happened behind closed doors. I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t turn a blind eye if they thought it would save them. But Gods, like Ig, who seemed so deeply affected by those who stole his gift from him, seemed unlikely to let this pass so easily.
He scooted along the bench seat, allowing me to drop next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other.
“Less man-spreading would help,” I muttered, sitting my bag on my lap.
“I’m trying to blend in. Looks like I should take up as much space as possible.”
“Did you need something?” I asked. “Or is this an unhealthy coincidence?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Grayson.”
I sucked in a breath and dropped my head back. If I got off at the next stop, I would need to walk for some time before I got home. There was always the option of getting a cab.
“Quentin,” Ig prompted.
“You knew what he did.” I lowered my chin and turned my head to look at Ig. “You knew what he was capable of.”
“We would never have left him with you if we thought he was a threat.”
“Because it would have risked your existence.”
Ig looked away, embarrassed. They had no loyalty to me and I was tired of trying to convince myself otherwise.
“Elva was involved,” he admitted quietly. “They forced her against her will, but she still had blood on her hands.”
My knuckles turned white as I gripped the strap of my bag, wringing it relentlessly. “Gray wasn’t forced, was he?” The silence spoke volumes. “Did he send you here to do his dirty work?”
Ig snorted. “Do you think that’s Gray’s style?”
No. Grayson would crash into a situation and handle it himself, even if it meant making matters worse. He didn’t delegate. That was something he would need to work on if he planned on taking over Elysia some day.
“Quentin, it’s not something he’s proud of. Surely you can understand why he didn’t tell you.”
“I had a right to know.”
“Maybe you did, but it didn’t unfold that way. Things between you both are messy. When was he meant to explain it to you?”
“Before he confessed he loved me?” I tucked my legs in as more people stepped onto the tube.
“He’s been focused on keeping you alive.” His voice lowered. “I’ve known him for a very long time and I can tell you I’ve never seen him so distraught over the prospect of losing something. Someone.”
I fixed my gaze on my knees as they bounced with the movement of the tube down the tracks.
“How am I meant to love him when I know what he did?” I whispered.
Ig’s weight pressed against my left side. “Have you heard his side of the story?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should try that before you decide on what to do with him.”
I turned my head to find whiskey brown eyes staring back at me. “Can’t you just tell me?”
“He wouldn’t appreciate that and you wouldn’t be satisfied with it, either. You need him to talk to you. He’s your bound.”
Dropping my head into my hands, I blew out a breath and ignored the sting of tears. I hadn’t been this exhausted in years.
