See, Mother, I can show emotion too. Fuck you.
Her frame seemed frailer, as if she’d lost a few inches of height and shed weight. The fat silver braid over her shoulder lacked shine. Coiling out from underneath the layers of her gown at the sternum was a blush-toned carnation, fully blossomed andlilting toward the hazy streaks of sunlight piercing through the skylights.
A touch from Father.
There was a twinge of something in her gaze, flitting away from Finnian and over those congregating in her hall, like a bolt which had come loose and trembled under stress.
It must’ve hit her hard when Naia broke her own curse. She could’ve easily employed witches and assassins to collect Naia, but the likelihood of their success was slim. Between Naia’s title as a High Goddess, her husband and child with their Himura blood, and the Blood Heretics, Mira had enough common sense to know she didn’t stand a chance.
Aware of the triplets glaring daggers at him, he shifted his focus onto each of them. A replica of the same face—cat-like eyes, button nose, round cheeks—framed by the same nickel-colored strands as Mira’s.
The last time he saw them was in Alke Hall the night of his charity event, paralyzed and covered in Ronin’s blood. Finnian had taken his time to repay them for when they’d ambushed him and his apprentices in the cemetery by allowing his ghouls to feast on them in their petrified state. Only after a few hours of the torment did he use Malik’s cleaver to gut his insides, one organ at a time.
Once they regained control of their bodies, they were quick to flee.
Marina stood at Mira’s other side, donning her black attire and sullen disposition. Her dark gaze leveled him, emotionless and intimidating as his own.
Out of all their siblings, Finnian’s appearance favored hers the most—a fact he despised. They both shared the same indifferent nature and dark hair. Each held an appearance that favored Father. And while Finnian had only crossed paths with her a handful of times because of their nearly four-hundred-year age gap, his hatred for her lived deep in his core from the heartache she’d inflicted on Naia.
“Mira, High Goddess of the Sea.” Iliana, the High Goddess of Life and Balance, addressed her formally.
She was positioned in the center of the line with her back to Finnian, luminescence feathering around the back of her long, black strands. The High Goddess hid her true identity with a chasm of white light over her face. Though, Finnian suspected all the Council members hid their true features with some sort of glamor.
“The Council stands before you today because Freya, a middle goddess of the sea, has called to challenge you for your title,” she finished.
Finnian had watched interviews on the news of sailors claiming the middle goddess had guided them through a hurricane. A couple claimed it was she who answered their prayers when they became lost at sea, changing the current and washing their sailboat back to land.
“Do you accept this challenge?” The High Goddess of the Sun stood with a firm posture, her stature strong, expression steeled, emitting an aura that made her unapproachable.
There was a brief pause. A snag. It was quite unlike Mira to falter in a situation that would typically entice a disturbing excitement within her. “I accept.”
She descended the platform, her heels clinking along the crystal. Her pace was unhurried, far from her typically ambitious strut.
Finnian barely recognized his mother.
Taking the final step, she scrutinized each of the Council members. Finnian had seen her stand before them many times with her pretentious ego on display—so condescendingly confident of her own power, obvious that she believed she could crush a deity of their caliber if they were to get in her way.
Now, though, Finnian could see it in the way she lifted her chin and shoved out her chest. The effort to appear more threatening than she actually was.
“Freya. Please come forth.” The High Goddess of Fate rotated with an outstretched arm, the sequins of her dress reflecting with the movement, like the way light hit a seashell.
The flimsy material exposed the valleys of her shimmering hips and shapely breasts. Warm, buttery locks cascaded down her back. She’d always presented herself in entrancing ways, but how much of her appearance was nothing more than glamor? Finnian imagined her to be a bony hag underneath it.
Freya emerged from the crowd, a buoyant cheer to her step as she took her place in the circle across from Mira.
Under the current of freckles on her sun-kissed cheeks, Freya wore a lively smile that Finnian knew would only provoke Mira. If that failed, her chipper aura of what felt like an optimistic child definitely would.
“The victor of this duel shall go forth as the High Ruler of the Sea.” The High God of Chaos and Ruin’s deep voice resonated through the hall. “Whoever loses must accept their defeat.”
Welcome to hell.
He suppressed another shudder.
“I accept the terms,” Mira said.
Freya bowed her chin in acknowledgement. “It is an honor to be in your presence, Lady Mira. Allow me to formally introduce myself.” She placed a hand on her chest. “I am Freya, daughter of a middle goddess of fertility and a middle god of wind. I, too, accept the terms. May you be blessed by the High Goddess of Luck today.”
Mira’s eyes hardened—two pools, bleached and chilled.
