And no matter how much his tendencies wept to tear into the Himura before him, he would keep his mouth shut, obey the fucking witch, and do whatever she asked of him.
He wouldnottake this moment from her.
26
MORTE
Acacius
Tiedto a rusted chair with his wrists bound behind his back in a snare of Ronin’s thorned magic, numbness nipped up Acacius’s forearms in a slow pursuit to his fingertips.
Marina sat in a similar seat at his side, her knee brushing against the fringe of his leg. He could hardly feel her touch due to the briar still wrapping his shin.
Acacius studied the Himura witch before them, leaning casually against the wall. His face held vigor and color—no signs of lethargy from his blood loss.
When Cassius fought him years ago, Acacius recalled his brother stating that the witch could only use his hematic cast for a certain length of time, given his mortality. It was a problem Ronin no longer seemed to have.
Theon rested at his side, a middle god of winter that Acacius had watched through the eyes of his Herald during its confrontation with Marina.
Acacius glanced over at her.
Since leaving the abandoned storage room, she’d hardly acknowledged him. Not when they arrived at the Blood Heretics’ compound, or when they were escorted through a side entrance into the small room they currently resided in.
He could sense her dread beneath her unbothered demeanor in the way she avoided him. After months of prying under her layers, she was starting to be herself more and more with him. And now, as she held back her stress, he knew that one look at him might provoke her emotions to show, something she wouldn’t allow in front of the others.
To distract himself from the resentment raking his insides, toward Ronin and the child and Naia and the entire situation, he swept his eyes over the distressed brick walls and wooden rafters. Magic seeped in the air, potent, like spiced bark that tickled his nose.
Naia and a broad-armed man stepped through the double doors.
Acacius stiffened at the sight of the two corked bottles in the man’s hands, luminescing a verdant green.
“Avi is going to administer you both a truth potion.” Naia stood in front of them, frowning. “I will then ask you a set of questions. Are you both okay with that?”
Not that we have much of a fucking option.
Acacius ground his molars to keep the words from spilling out and peeked over at Marina. All she had to do was show her discomfort and he would act.
But to his dismay, she acknowledged her sister with a soft nod. “I understand.”
Naia regarded him with a timid look, curling her plump lips inward, waiting.
His stomach was in thick knots. The history he shared with the High Goddess of Eternity was still a fresh wound. He still loathed her, regardless of working through his grief withRuelle. In the end, Naia was the one who took away a deity’s immortality, and he didn’t trust her in the slightest. At her whim, the life he dreamed about with Marina could be ground to powder.
“Um, Lord Acacius?” she asked after a beat, flicking her gaze around his face. Though, he didn’t miss how she avoided his eyes.
As the powerful goddess that she was, it was nice to know that he still unnerved her.
“Better get along with it then, Little Goddess, before my patience runs dry.”
She gave him a pointed look, clearly unamused from hearing the nickname Cassius had created for her.
The bulky witch approached Acacius and Marina.
“My name’s Avi. This is a telling serum.” He wiggled the vial filled with sage-colored liquid in the air beside his face. “It tastes like day-ripe bananas, so you shouldn’t have a problem getting it down.” The witch spoke in a friendly, animated manner, as if he were trying to convince a child to take their medication.
Nausea brimmed in Acacius’s esophagus, and he cut his eyes to Marina, brow pinching, silently pleading with her to let him teleport out.
She cut her eyes back at him, imploring him to behave.
