Marina shook her head, frustration coloring her cheeks from his sudden and intense questioning. “Morte. Why?”
“Fuckingidiot.” Theon hung his head, and his fingerless gloved hand dove through his pale hair, clenching the strands tightly. “He’s not a god of slaughter. Soren is the High God of Trickery and Mischief.”
Marina’s eyes widened, unadulterated shock warping her features. “But I…” her words fell quiet, lips remaining parted.
Theon dropped his hand from his hair and gripped his hips, glaring at Marina in disbelief. “He can make you see things that are not real, or manipulate the perception of those that are. And now, you have given him all the information he needs to infiltrate our city and organization, to take Ash.”
It all made sense now, how the creature resembled his Daemon, and why Acacius couldn’t find a single bit of information on the god after seeing him with Marina through the eyes of his creature.
The High God of Trickery and Mischief was a mystery to all. It was a custom of their lineage that the Council agreed to uphold by allowing their duels to be performed in draperies and masks, unrevealing their names. A way to shield them from the wrath of those who they inflicted misfortunes onto.
Acacius searched in the stock of his memories for the duel when Soren received his title. It would’ve been the most recent one between their lineage. Perhaps he could remember something of importance about Soren’s divine power.
Acacius would’ve been standing next to Cassius, bored and ready to depart, barely giving it his attention—unless something sinister piqued his interest. Though, it appeared nothing had, since he couldn’t recall Soren or his duel.
For fuck’s sake. He could hear Cassius’s lecture in his head.This is why you should pay more attention.
He watched the panic slowly warp over Marina’s features as she leaned her weight forward in her chair against the binds. “How would you possibly know who the High God of Trickery and Mischief is? Nobody knows that information.”
Theon rubbed at his brow, prolonging his reply as if he were in some sort of striking pain.
Naia looked between Marina and Theon.
Ronin and Avi exchanged confused glances with each other.
Silence mulled on, and the suspension in the room was like a hand around Acacius’s throat, slowly smothering his lungs.
He could no longer stand it. “For fuck’s sake, winter god, spit it out.”
Theon let out a stale breath and crossed his arms. “Soren is my brother.”
27
A GUILD OF ASSASSINS
Marina
The High Godof Trickery and Mischief.
Marina’s pulse ricocheted in her throat.
Ronin and Naia both blinked, bewildered by the information. Their reactions were enough for Marina to assume that they knew nothing of the winter god’s background. Just as she did not know the true title of her supposed friend.
“Your brother?” Ronin echoed.
He fucking lied to me.
Betrayal singed her insides.
Again and again.
How far back did his treachery go?
Frames of memories glitched in her mind: Soren playfully pulling the drawstrings of her hood before jumping off the edge of the building; his promise to help see her vow through; offering her his hand the day she failed to defeat the previous High God of Night; consoling her failure with meaningless fun.
“The Morte guild is a selected group of assassins, loyal to one end: themselves. It was founded by my parents.” Theonspoke low and refused to meet the baffled stares directed at him. “Soren is my eldest brother. He gained his title as High God nearly five centuries ago.”
Rage burned the edges of Marina’s vision as she glared at the floor. Her fingers curled into fists behind her back, straining the chains around her wrists.
