Fury, resentment, it all muffled to the disturbing amusement rising in his throat. Silvery notes of laughter chimed out.
A flash of shock rippled through the vicious animosity of her expression.
“Look at you.” He gestured to her with a wave of his hand. “The beloved island father created now worshipshim.Naia’s name has spread among the mortals and she now has true power. You are stuck in a kingdom that is no longer yours, a prison you will never be free from.” He let his head fall sideways, smiling at her mockingly. “Youare nothing. A middle goddess of the sea who simply once was.”
Her slap stung across his cheek. The sound sliced through the empty hall.
“You both are abominations! Disgraceful children who take afterhim!” She snarled, face contorted in an ugly rage. “One day, I will break out of this cage and force you to repent for what you have done!”
The taste of copper filled his mouth. He swiped his tongue across the cut on the inside of his lip.
Know your place.
The hum rang louder in his skull.
The edges of his vision frayed. Behind her stood the thirteen-year-old version of himself—ashen complexion, staring down at the back of his mother’s head, a madness swirling in his black eyes.
Finnian blinked and the younger version of himself was no longer there.
Hallucinations.
He refocused on Mira and her hideous face, warped in anger.
You are not losing your mind. Not here.
He propped his elbow on his bent knee and shifted his attention onto his hand, curling his fingers into a loose fist. “Do you know what black hellebore does to a person?” He did well to keep his tone blank, pretending the icy fear in his veins was just another fabrication of the curse. “I would assume so, given Father was the High God of Nature.”
Finnian conjured his magic and unfolded his fingers. In the center of his palm was a saucer-shaped blossom, its nodding petals velvet-black. “It makes a wonderful ingredient for potions and poisons for the myriad of symptoms it can cause—emesis, catharsis, bradycardia, anaphylaxis…” He cut his eyes over onto Mira. “Are you familiar with such terms?”
“Do not spout your witchcraft?—”
Finnian snapped his arm out and rammed the pad of his thumb into the center of her forehead. “Deglutire nigrum flore.”
Mira gasped. A hex mark burned over her forehead, an onyx triangle with blossoms at each point, vines connecting them. A rune appeared in its center, slowly eating into her flesh like rot.
Her chest bellowed in uneven strides as she fought to breathe. She pawed at her neck, mouth split apart. The veins inher forehead protruded and her breath sputtered, like a stone caught in her throat.
Foam pushed out of the corners of her mouth—just as it had with Alke that day. Down his beak, over his feathers.
Mira fell over, thethudof her skull hitting the edge of the stair. He imagined it to split apart like a yolk, but it didn’t. He watched her writhe and stare blankly up at the vaulted ceiling through bloodshot eyes. Frothy trails ran down her cheeks into her ears.
Her body convulsed one last time, and the awareness in her eyes wilted.
She lay on her back, chest no longer rising and falling. Not dead. Only treading the line that all deities could not cross.
“You will wake,” he said, knowing she could hear him. “And suffer this same fate, over and over again with nothing but the silence of your own thoughts. Enjoy wasting away in your cage, Mother, for you will never lay a hand on Naia ever again.”
Finny, don’t do this!
The voice was Naia’s, shrieking in the walls of his skull.
He swallowed the acid in his throat and rose up.
What have you done to our mother?
Finnian stepped over Mira and started up the stairs where Freya and Cassian awaited.
She will suffer.
