“What?” I say. “Lord—or whatever he is—or not, I refuse to bow and scrape for him. He infiltratedmy mind.” I’m still angry. “Is that a common trait? Canyoudo that?”
Seniia turns to Vilder. “You haven’ttoldher?”
He shrugs.
“Seriously, Vilder. We agreed to help her, remember?”
“From what I saw today, she seems perfectly capable of helping herself.” He takes a sip of his beer.
I glance between them. I’m clearly missing something.
Seniia leans across our small booth table, her mane of pale pink hair spilling over her shoulders, her brow furrowed with worry. “No, the C’elen cannot read minds. But he is not a lord, Laïna. Void, I don’t even know if there are any Rean lords. ‘Mi ne,’ it means...” She searches for the right word.
“My king,” Vilder finishes for her. “Or that’s as similar as it gets.”
“Aster is aking?” Dread crashes over me. I stabbed a king? I could get executed. Die.
“No, Laïna,” Seniia says with an exasperated sigh. “He is not a king. He is agod.”
Vilder nods. “He is one of the seven, meaning he is lesser god, but a god nonetheless.”
I freeze, the mug of beer hovering inches from my parted lips. My gaze jumps between Seniia and Vilder. Surely, they must be joking. “I...” My throat constricts, a knot forming as I struggle to find my voice.
A god? Aster? What does a god want with me?
The familiar claw of anxiety squeezes around my chest, making it hard to breathe, and my breath comes out in shallow gasps. Bracing my hands on the table, I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness hits me, but even with my eyes shut, the world keeps spinning.
Seniia moves to sit next to me, gently wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Hey, Laïna,” she says softly. “Just breathe.” Demonstrating, she takes a deep breath and guides me to do the same, breathing with me. She places one hand on my chest and the other at the back of my heart. I cherish the warmth emanating from her palms, melting the anxiety away. “Nothing happened. You’re going to be all right.”
“I’m not sure ‘nothing’is the right word,” Vilder mutters.
I glance toward him where he sits nonchalantly munching on a roll. For some unknown reason, he still seems rather amused. Noticing my gaze, he shrugs. “Don’t worry, Laï. You’ll be fine.”
Gradually, the grip of anxiety on my chest begins to loosen, and I rest my head on Seniia’s shoulder, savoring the delicate aroma of flowers that surrounds her.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
For several long moments, we sit in silence. My breathing steadies, but my hands still tremble slightly as I reach for my beer. I take a small sip, letting the cool liquid ground me.
A god. I stabbed a god.The implications of my actions cause cold sweat to prickle at the back of my neck again, and I shut down the thought before I have another anxiety attack.
I debate telling them about the dreams and my meeting with Aster in Bowen but quickly decide not to. The dreams are too personal. Too intimate. As if they’re mine and... his. I sigh. He doesn’t even have to be around to infiltrate my personal space. He’s already deep under my skin, and I’m sure he knows it too. But why?
“Oh, just forget about it, will you?” I say as I notice the worried glances they keep sending me.
“Kind of hard to forget you getting pinned to the ground by a god,” Vilder says dryly, “or how you stabbed him in his shoulder...”
I grab one of the buns from the basket and throw it at his face. He grabs it with his teeth. Ridiculous reflexes indeed.
“You actually stabbed him?” Seniia looks so shocked I can’t help but laugh.
“I don’t know what he said to her, but you should have seen her, Seniia. She went feral.”
I kick him under the table, earning a low growl from Gray where she lies at his feet.
“I don’t know what is happening,” I say. “I’ve basically spent my entire life braced and subdued, but lately I can’t seem to control... well, anything.” I shake my head at myself.
Vilder smirks. “Explains a lot.”
