“Demigod.” She held her stein up to her lips, keeping her voice low. “Five years old. The Himura.”
“Consider it done.” Soren didn’t miss a beat.
Marina set her mug back down next to the gift box. “Name your price.”
The bartender popped the cap off a large glass bottle and handed it to the god. He took the mead and returned to his table.
“For a loyal customer such as yourself, consider this one on the house.” The friendly ire grew in Soren’s voice. “You can do the same for me one day.”
Marina let out a sound of disapproval under her breath. “Don’t be ridiculous. I will not owe anyone a favor.”
“Fine.” He ran a hand over his mask and down his jaw. “Then how about just for an old friend?”
“I don’t have it in me to argue.” Marina receded for the sake of her mental energy. Not that she would let him have his way, though.
Soren scoffed, lowering his hand back to his lap. “That’s a first.”
She shot him a look. “Idohave it in me to slice your lips off.”
A chuckle shook out of him. “Still as feisty as ever, I see.” He ran his thumb over the condensation of his mug.
“I am counting on your skillset.”
“My skillset, huh?” he teased, then got quiet. “Or you could simply count onme.”
She didn’t miss the flirtatious lilt to his words. Though, she wasn’t foolish enough to lean into them, no matter how lonely she felt at the moment. Soren was just as cunning as she was. “Rule one: Don’t put your trust in an assassin. Especially when unpaid.”
“You have a point.” He scratched his chin through his mask, his eyes glimmering from what she assumed was a smile. “It’s nice to see you, Marina.”
“I can’t say the feeling is mutual.” A corner of her mouth lifted, proof she was capable of teasing back at him.
He popped his hood back over his head and dipped his chin. “I will be in contact.”
Before Marina could respond, a smallthunksounded against the wooden booth. Above his half-empty pint, the air filled with floating particles that glittered like velvet snow.
6
A TRUCE IN BERRIES
Acacius
Marina stoodat the precipice of the broken bridge leading into Acacius’s fortress. Floating masses of earth surrounded the mainland, once a giant continent that separated the day he awoke with his new title.
Crumbled rock and cyclones twisted around the islands, spitting chunks into the basalt spires and towers at the top of the fractured castle. A relentless chorus of destruction echoed through its cracked walls.
Unlike Cassius, Acacius never felt the need to keep deities locked out of his realm. While his brother avoided confrontation and punishment, Acacius itched for it.
And as he stood at the entrance of his home, watching Marina’s figure grow closer, a wicked anticipation tingled in his chest.
The wind kicked up the hem of her scarlet gown, tossing her long, wavy hair around. Underneath the grim, opaque sky of Tavora, she strutted, her blank expression absent of fear.
Acacius’s eyes drifted to the velvet box in her grasp, the ends of the satin ribbon fluttering about.
A present?
He grinned, amused by her efforts.
Oh, this ought to be good.
