Aria was quick to reply. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“This has everything to do with me. I’m as much of a God as you are.”
“You’re half the God that I am.”
There was a clash of gold and white, but I wasn’t about to let them have it out. It took a few moments, but eventually a thick tendril of my aura struck out and knocked Aria off her feet. My divinity was still recovering from being poisoned, as it didn’t pack as much of a punch as I’d hoped.
“Make another move like that, Aria,” I warned her. “And I assure you, it’ll be the last thing you do.”
When I turned back to Quentin, I was surprised at what I saw. A multitude of auras splayed out in front of her in a sickeningly rainbow bright shield.
Quentin had spent time in lower Elysia. She had built bonds and made connections. I’d misunderstood how deep it all ran. How the minor Gods must have looked at her, the first demigod in decades, and felt the caress of nostalgia. They took her as an embodiment of their lost ones. As their chance of redemption for not being able to save those they lost in the last war.
“All of this,” Quentin said, eyes searching the faces in the crowd, “can’t be for nothing. What is it you all want for Elysia?”
Archer tipped his head up. “Things need to change.”
“You can’t listen to him. He committed treason!” Aria was up on her feet, face red from fury and embarrassment.
“Oh, as if I’m the only one who wanted him dead,” Archer commented.
I resisted to the urge to roll my eyes. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t helping his case either. Had he killed Hunter? I didn’t know what unfolded after Hunter had stabbed me. The strangebond they shared was built upon lies, and I couldn’t imagine Archer taking kindly to being used.
“How do you expect change to happen?” Quentin asked. When she tried to walk towards him, I caught her hand and kept her by my side. She was still being shielded from any potential attack.
Archer, despite his position, smiled. “We want a fair trial for all that happened and then we can discuss terms.”
I clenched my teeth, trying to understand how he still had the upper hand when he had caused all these problems.
“Is that possible?” Quentin asked me softly.
“Yes. It means opening old wounds for Elysia, but yes.”
“Will you do it?”
There was a part of me that demanded to be stubborn and obstinate. I had promised to never talk of that time again, and I wanted to stick to my word. But I was no longer Hunter’s little brother. I no longer lived eternity solely for myself.
“To bring balance back to Elysia, we don’t have much choice,” I told her before turning back to the crowd. “You’ll have your trial. It will begin here tomorrow at dawn. Tell the others, if they wish to witness it, to be here. Until then, we should try to repair the damage that has been done and answer prayers. Do not forget your responsibilities.”
The gentle hum of conversation echoed through the chambers again as Gods began to move.
This would be a chance to clear my name and show them that Hunter pulled the strings, but that didn’t mean they’d accept it. Truth or not. Tomorrow would be a long day.
The council chambers emptied apart from a few Gods who stayed behind to clean the mess here. Pillars had been reduced to dust. Deep cracks ran through the floor that was visible under the debris. Thrones had been upturned. The aftertaste of anarchy would linger even once the repairs were made. Bitter and sharp. It was not meant to be palatable. Not meant to be forgotten. The damage the Gods had achieved in such a short time had left its impact. That much, I was sure of.
“I’m going to head home and make sure Sloan and the kids are okay,” Erik said quietly. “I’ll find Andreas and the others who found solace elsewhere.”
“Thank you, Erik.” Gray clapped a hand on his shoulder, but Erik pulled him into a crushing hug.
I knew I hadn’t processed a single thing that had happened over the last few days, let alone the last few hours. And I thought that might have been a consequence of being part mortal, but the way Erik clung to Gray taught me it was nothing to do with being mortal but rather just being. Loss and grief were as universal as joy and love.
His red aura flickered into life before it took him away from the chambers.
Gray turned his attention to me and I broke eye contact first. It was too overwhelming to look at him. A maelstrom of emotions stirred in my chest—relief and love, yes, but also shame and regret. I’d almost lost him and my stubbornness had played a factor in that.
“Quentin.” Gray’s voice was soft.
“What were you thinking?” I asked, staring at his shoes. “You agreed to the plan and then you?—”
