The muscles in his jaws twitched, but he nodded once. “Very well.”
He regarded Cassian with a look of unease. “Brother.” It left his mouth swiftly, a stiff goodbye.
Cassian kept his eyes trained on Ruelle, minding no effort to return his acknowledgement. Similar to Iliana, Acacius had a knack for deciphering Cassian’s thoughts and emotions effortlessly. Cassian was also aware of the sentiments Acacius held towards Ruelle, and he had done well this long without involving his little brother in their feud. Chaos would follow Acacius, like a breeze dipping into an oily flame.
A harsh hiss of his departure resonated in the air, followed by the batting of several small wings. Death’s-head hawkmothsfluttered above the table. One landed atop Cassian’s shoulder. He brushed it away.
As soon as they were alone, Ruelle’s angelic demeanor vanished. The look in her eyes glinted like steel as she inclined her head, the start of a smirk curving across her cherry-stained lips. “I’ve never seen you neglect a god in need of punishment before.”
Cassian licked his own lips, forcing himself to relax against the slab of his throne. Moths drifted between them, slowly following the others towards the dark corner of the room. “What gives you the impression that I have done such a thing?”
“The young god still roams free, performing witchcraft and harboringyoursouls. I find it quite satisfying, yet ironic. Do you not?” She raised her eyebrows.
Heed my warning.
Cassian squeezed his fingers deeper into his palms, resisting the urge to smooth down his lapels and meticulously inspect them for any specks of dust. Something else to focus on, besidesthe haunting memory that unfolded between them countless centuries ago.
“Is there a purpose to this delightful conversation we are having, Lady Ruelle?”
A light laugh sprung from her, contempt burning in her lustrous gaze. A hideousness hidden away in something beautiful. “You care for the young god, and your feelings for him burden your judgment. Because of it, you have become indecisive, which is why you have yet to curse him.”
Whoever yearns in your soul will be just in reach, but never able to fully grasp.
“This is the first deity born with magical abilities,” Cassian said in a level-headed manner. “A fact that I assume the young god isn’t even aware of. And since you cannot seem to keep your nose out of my business, let me assure you I’ve been watching him, as well as relinquishing the souls he’s taken. Lest you forget, Lady Ruelle,necromancyis sorcery. A practiced art. Any mage can replicate it, and before I curse the young god to insanity, I want to be sure I know as much information as necessary to prevent the situation from repeating itself.”
Ruelle huffed out another breathy laugh, rising from her throne. The lace material of her dress hugged her hourglass figure as she moved around the table. With every shift of her body, the lace shimmered against the bare skin of her hips.
With a smile of malice, she positioned herself next to Cassian’s throne and gracefully leaned down. Her sweet fragrance filled his nose as her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulder, lightly grazing his coat sleeve.
“Forgive my impertinence, Lord Cassian. I was only voicing my concerns because I can see the threads of each mortal and those who, unfortunately, will become tangled in the young god’s unhallowed ritual of raising the dead. You see, I do not have control over a soul once their thread is cut, as you are wellaware of, therefore the Fate of those mortal souls rests inyourhands. I do hope you will not take such a thing lightly.”
One day, when you know the kiss of love, all you will have left is regret.
A surge of nausea filled his stomach.
He held her eyes, allowing his silence to act as a response.
Ruelle brushed the back of her finger over his cheek, her touch stinging down to his blood.
“Farewell,” she hummed, and then she disappeared.
Cassian wanderedthrough the swaying lavender stalks, massaging his temples with his thumb and index finger. Deities did not get headaches, but his unsettling confrontation with Ruelle remained at the forefront of his thoughts, spurring dreadful anxieties that he had a tendency to turn over relentlessly in his mind.
The High Goddess of Fate wore many faces. To the mortals, she was enchanting and compassionate, the divine being who held their destiny in the palm of her small hands. To deities, she was alluring and gallant, the divine being who had ascended onto the Council for her reputable status among the Mortal Land.
Neither was the real Ruelle. She concealed her true layers, harboring hatred and a vendetta that she was determined to make Cassian pay for—all because of something that had taken place between them many years ago.
He’d ignored her and her centuries-long grudge. To keep his fate from the crosshairs of her meddling, he attempted toavoid any prospects of love, rendering her scheme for revenge powerless. If he kept his heart closed, she couldn’t take anything from him.
A lesson he mercilessly learned after losing someone precious to him because of her meddling.
She’d waited for another round of ammunition. Mentioning the young god had not been an accident. She knew Cassian was not one to delay tasks, and that he still had yet to confront Finnian and his necromancy.
Cassian dropped his arm down to his side and fixed his attention up at the periwinkle sky, the sunrise bursting through it like a budding bulb. The breeze fluttered by, infused with the scent of lavender, causing the wandering souls to pause, lift their heads, and smile. A look of healing that unraveled a bit of the knot in his chest.
“You seem to be in some sort of distress, my lord.” Nathaira settled in the spot beside him, overlooking the souls. Her company brought a welcomed stillness.
With hands in pockets, he walked and pondered on how to translate his feelings into words.
