“Soren?” Azara asked, positioned right alongside Iliana. Onyx crystals glistened in the deep red of her hair, matching with the lacy, black gown that she wore.
Acacius was well accustomed to her expression, ever irritated and contemptuous. However, there was more of an edge to her demeanor this time, and her gaze was narrower and full of fire, its intimidation fermenting dread inside him. Just like Iliana, he imagined Azara, too, was displeased with his past behavior.
“So, you know the god,” Acacius said, treading lightly with his tone. He did not wish to quarrel with her.
“Ofhim, yes. The three of us all watched him defeat his predecessor under the guise of a cloak and mask. Since, he has kept to himself.” She referred to herself, Acacius, and Iliana. “Why would someone such as him want to frameyou?”
Acacius placed his hands in his lap to keep them still. “To draw attention off himself while he targets the Himura demigod.”
At the mention of the child, all eyes briefly flickered to Naia and then back onto him.
“It’s inevitable that things like this will happen, given the situation,” Azara continued, cold and detached, as if the demigod’s mother did not sit across from her. “The deities are unnerved by him.”
“Perhaps,” Acacius said, sensing the direction the conversation was heading, “but I do not enjoy unearned infamy, as you all know. If he continues to drag around my name, I am afraid I will be forced to act.”
Iliana and Azara shared a look, both contemplating which was worth dealing with—Acacius’s rash actions, or the Council getting involved.
Acacius smirked. He could do this. Marina was counting on him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolve her worries. Soren would get the punishment of grandeur that he deserved for betraying her, and it would serve as an example to all other deities of what would happen should they attempt to harm the demigod.
Iliana let out a breath. “Do you have proof of these claims?” Her condescending tone irked Acacius, an annoyance of his that she knew very damn well about.
He flexed his jaw, arresting the instinct to snap at her. “I have an entire organization of witnesses.”
“Members that are a part of the Himura witch’s organization cannot be trusted. Of course they’d side with the child.”
Bullshit.
Acacius held his sister’s baiting glare, the slight curve of her lips and lifted eyebrows stroking embers under his skin.
In his periphery, he could see Naia’s hand moving up to her mouth, casually positioning her fingers over her lips in an attempt to keep herself in line. She had to remain impartial, a servant of their kind, nothing more. The second she spewed emotion, Iliana and Azara would look down on her, and their plea would fail. The Council was a place of professionalism, and any sliver of bias would be met with consequence.
But this had nothing to do with her or her child or the politics surrounding them.
Iliana was angry athimfor the negligent decision to shirk his Councilor duties, for being a catalyst in Ruelle’s end. Ultimately, he was to blame for the Chaos amongst the deities. Had he not acted as a pawn in Ruelle’s game, Naia would’ve never needed to revoke her immortality.
Iliana had a right to be vexed with him, but this was no time for her petty grudges.
When they were children, she intentionally made his life harder as a form of punishment—withholding his dinner until he apologized for his tone or guilting him when he crushed her craft by accident.
This game with her was exasperating, and he no longer wished to dance for her forgiveness.
“I suppose I shall rephrase my intentions.” Acacius sat up in his throne, pinning an unyielding look onto Iliana. “There is a deity out there as we speak, impersonating my Daemons, in an attempt to harm or kidnap the demigod child. Imitatingmy Chaosshould be grounds for punishment. Imagine if your powers were the ones being implicated here.”
“You think highly of yourself,” Azara scoffed, turning her cheek at him, high and strong, like it could take a punch without shattering. It glittered with glamor. “Technically, the High God of Trickery and Mischief has done no wrong.”
Acacius slammed a fist down on the table. “Monsters are lurking in a major city, threatening mortal lives, all falsely in my name.”
Iliana regarded him with solemn disappointment, as if she expected nothing less from him. “We do not punish gods for inflicting harm on the mortals unless it affects the population drastically, to the point of shaping the world as a whole. Their inevitable retribution has always been losing the humans’ favor from their actions.”
“And threatening the child?”
Iliana nodded in finality. “He has done no harm.”
“Dammit, he will!” Acacius raised his voice. “That is why I am here, to try andpreventit!”
“We cannot punish a god for a crime they have not yet committed, Acacius!” His sister’s words grew to match his decibel.
Acacius glowered at her, the muscles in his forearms spasming as he constricted his fist on the table. “This is a decision we all must make, Iliana.Youare not the Council alone.”
