“How patriotic,” Finnian muttered before taking another sip. “And will you not be joining,Ruler?”
Cassian refilled his glass. “I have business to attend to. I assumed you would be happier to reunite with those you transformed into ghouls throughout the centuries.”
Before Finnian could come up with a witty response, Cassian turned around and lifted his topped-off drink, returning the snide gesture of a make-believe toast before taking another swig.
It took extra effort for Finnian not to roll his eyes.
Cassian strode back to the sofa and unclasped the center button of his suit jacket before sitting.
All of it grated on Finnian—Cassian’s proper posture, the gleam of his watch on his wrist as he swirled the dark brown liquor in his glass, and the perfectly groomed undercut of his hair. He wanted to reach down and yank out all the ugly within Cassian just to prove those parts of him existed.
Approach him with kindness.
Finnian relaxed his grasp around his glass and softened his features, intending to make himself look more approachable. “The origin of the God of Death and Curses is a mystery to me. You were the first of your lineage, as well as one of the first deities in existence.”
Cassian’s eyebrows raised, his drink hovering in front of his lips. “You are showing interest in me. How fascinating.”
“Some things you cannot learn in books.” Finnian sat up a little, as if he were genuinely curious. “Tell me the origin story of death. I amdyingto hear it.”
Cassian held his stare for a beat. “Why?”
Approach him with understanding.
Finnian stared back. “It must be tiresome being the Ruler of Death, and it occurred to me earlier that while we’ve played this game all these years, I do not know how you came to wear the crown.”
Something dark flashed in Cassian’s brassy gaze before he tossed back his head, emptying his glass.
He rose to his feet and stalked back to the bar cart for another refill. “Death was a personified being created by Existence itself. Just how Fate was. Nature, Night, the Moon.” This time, he was careful to avoid clinking the glass, making it easier for Finnian to hear him.
He rested back on the cushion, satisfied that his push to get Cassian to open up had worked. “Death was apersonified being? Like a skeleton with a scythe? You know, some mortals still paint you in such theatrical ways.”
“Yes, something along those lines.” With a fresh glass, Cassian walked to the window and peered out into the vastness of his Land. “The Grim Reaper.San La Muerte.Ankou.”
“And let me guess, you became one of the first gods in existence by challenging the embodiment of Death?” Finnian stared at the backside of Cassian’s solid frame.
“That is precisely what happened.” Cassian took a swig of his drink. “I was twenty, my brother Acacius was sixteen, and our elder sister Iliana was twenty-two when an unknown assailant took our lives.”
Murdered.
Finnian blinked, trying to picture the High God before him as anything but the divine being he was, fragile, veins pulsing with blood and beating mortal life into his heart. Finnian’s sense of victory quickly dissipated, leaving him with a perplexing pain in his chest.
“I refused Death for myself and my siblings,” Cassian continued. “Iliana called upon Existence and demanded it to revive us. Acacius called upon Chaos, pleading with it to wreak havoc on the world for what it had done to us. They told us they would grant our wishes and hand over their titles if we won in a duel.”
“How? You were mere mortals.”
Cassian twisted around to face him. He held his drink in one hand, his other stowed away in his pocket. The light shining through the window entered like a monochromic backdrop weeping around him. “It is amazing what rage and sorrow pushes a person to become. Existence, Death, and Chaos all fell, along with the other personified beings, and the existence ofdeities were born. My siblings and I were the first to walk out of its mouth. Iliana resides in the Land of Entity. Acacius’s realm is beneath mine, and his Chaos brews into Moros.”
The spring in the Serpentine Forest.
The siren song, calling him to violent calamity.
Shivers bit up Finnian’s spine.
He searched Cassian’s face for any traces of the wrath he spoke of. The first time they met in the apothecary, Cassian presented himself cavalier, until Finnian blew the countertop to smithereens and rejected his command to give up necromancy. Rage had left its mark on Cassian’s face, distorting its fine contours and leaving behind a hardened expression. Glorious, it was the last thing Finnian saw before teleporting away—a type of fury Finnian did not find threatening, but invigorating.
Lower your guard.
Finnian gulped down the last bit of his drink to numb the discomfort of inquiring about Cassian. “Do you regret it?”
