The room fell stiffly quiet to the tension between them. The birdsong and the low, consistent chime from the white light that glared through the windows all grated Acacius’s ears.
His pulse drummed manically in his chest as he held Iliana’s wrathful stare.
She could say he was impulsive and reckless all she wanted, but he wasn’t the one allowing his emotions to interfere with his judgment. Chaos brewed amongst the deities. Soren targeted Ash, but he was only the first god to do so. In the future, there would be an accumulation. How would the Council handle such qualms then?
Their decision now would define what was yet to come. The deities were watching.
If Cassius were here, Iliana would’ve asked him what he thought, and if by some damn miracle their brother agreed with Acacius, Iliana would’ve given in. His own words, though, never seemed to reach her.
Iliana tore away her gaze and let out a sigh, massaging her temples. The flowing sleeve of her chiffon blouse fell into the crook of her elbow. “All in favor of punishing Soren for impersonating the Daemon, show of hands.”
Naia raised her arm.
Mavros’s hand came up as well.
Acacius lifted his rigid fingers, keeping his elbow propped on the table.
He glowered at the new High Goddess of Fate.
Solasta, in response, cast her eyes downward.
He’d have been willing to give her a chance, but her cowardice filled his mouth with revulsion.
The vote was a tie.
Acacius set his jaw.
His sister rose from her throne, her body language hostile. “Ties rely on the founding members to make the terminal call. Consider this topic, and this meeting, adjourned.”
With that, she swiftly exited through the ivy-covered threshold.
Acacius was on her heels. “Iliana.”
He stormed after her down the marble corridor of her palace.
She whipped around, eyes blazing like two distilled infernos. “We willnotpunish Soren for a crime he has not committed. I won’t allow it. Who next, after him? Who else would be chained for thepossibilityof transgression? It’s not how law works, Acacius.”
It made no sense. They’d punished gods for far lesser crimes than this. Order, justice—it was the Council’s duty. Without it, pandemonium would transpire. Iliana knew this. She’d listened to him back when they ascended to their roles. It was the reason why they’d established the Council. Chaos left unchecked would devastate the world, and he needed her to level those scales. Why wasn’t she listening to him now?
“Just because Cassius is no longer with us, do not think you can exclude me from this Council’s founding.”
Iliana shoved her finger in his face. “The Council has beennowhereon your priority list for the last eight months. Do not think I will reward your carelessness. You are only here because you need something.”
Fury surged up his neck and into his ears. “I am not a child, Iliana.”
“Then grow up and stop acting as one!” She seethed as she spat the words.
Her pointing out his childish behavior was nothing new. And the longer he searched her face, arranged in ugly anger, the louder her demands rang in his ears.
She was adamant on keeping the Council out of this situation. Why?
A dark, cynical chuckle left him as he stepped in closer, towering over her. “Your stress is palpable, dear sister. The fuse for ruin grows shorter each day amongst the deities, and like always, you look the other way to avoid watching it set fire.”
Cassius and he had always been the ones to stare into the blaze, unremorseful when it came to dirtying their hands.
As a Council, they did what had to be done, not what won them the favor of their kind.
Iliana’s mouth twisted, and she narrowed her eyes up at him. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
