“You will not touch him,” Arcasia growls, a hint of her fabled beast form coming to the surface.
“Calm down, beast,” Drayven scolds. “I will not touch your child and I will not curse him either. But I will tell you what Truth is too afraid to say.”
Taura stands, backing away from the kings who now stand toe-to-toe, each poised to unleash their deadly wrath at any moment.
“Your son will be forged in battle, molded in blood, and crowned in shadows.”
A gasp ripples through the crowd. Nobus raises a hand to strike but the dark god disappears in a flash of black. Thunder claps and Drayven reappears against the back wall. He lounges with casual ease, swiping something invisible from the shoulder of his black dress suit.
“How dare you threaten your prince!” the God King roars.
“He’s notmyprince. It is not a threat; it is the truth. Tell him, Taura.”
All attention turns to the raven-haired goddess who trembles slightly at my side. “It is as he says, my King,” she whispers.
Nobus stiffens, emotions warring in his golden gaze before a wicked smile blooms on his face.
“Well.” He chuckles. “It seems even the Under Realm will bow. A ruler who wears two crowns. What father wouldn’t be proud of that?”
His sinister tone makes the hair stand on my arms. Whatever half-truth Drayven chose to share, he has spared the child for now.
But as Taura has told me many times, fate is not written in stone; it is written in the shifting sands of time.
Nobus will keep the boy alive until he is able to determine how to change the fate proclaimed here today as truth. He will focus on the dark god and spend his days plotting how to overthrow the king of the Under Realm, biding his time until the little princeling has enough power to take the dark throne.
And if his attention is on Drayven, it won’t be on Mikais.
CHAPTER 6
SELENE
No one parties like a god— especially when the party is orchestrated by the God of Revelry himself.
Wine sweeter than nectar flows freely from the tiered fountain in the center of the courtyard where the afterparty is in full swing. Poured from too-full goblets into open mouths, tongues lap and lips caress as the intoxicating liquid is passed from god to god.
The air smells of fruit and sins of the flesh. Half-dressed deities dance wildly under the light of the full moons, swaying in near trance-like states to the melodic swell of the orchestra. Strings, horns, and woodwinds play in perfect harmony as the Goddess of Song serenades the partygoers, her melody releasing the last of their inhibitions.
Bastin’s power grows with every offering, and the post-ceremony party will only descend deeper into debauchery as the night stretches on. What remains of their clothing will soon be shed and their partners will soon be shared. More gods will flex their magic, driving them all further into madness and pleasure.
Every god seeks one thing tonight: escape.
Escape from their duties and from the war that brews around them. They have no aim but to be lost so thoroughly that only the rising sun can lead them home again.
I wander through the moonlit gardens, letting my fingers trail across the delicate petals of the blooming flowers in search of my own escape. The party doesn’t interest me, but the god lingering at the edge of the hedge maze does. Funny how I seem to always be able to find him, even in the darkness he loves to cling to.
“That was some show you put on.” I smile, but Drayven doesn't acknowledge me. He broods, silently surrounded by his comforting shadows as he stares off at the horizon.
“You knew.” My statement comes out like an accusation. “You knew about the prince’s eyes and that’s why you sided with the Wolf.”
Drayven finally directs his attention to me, the full weight of his cold gaze nearly knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Stop,” he commands. Pushing off the hedge he reclines against, the dark god stands to his full height. “Stop trying to see something in me that does not exist.”
“I’m not trying to do anything. I am simply stating a fact.”
“You want facts, Selene?” Drayven steps forward, his large hand gripping me forcefully by the chin. The silver rings adorning his fingers press into my skin. “The Wolf promises me offerings. I do not care about the child or who sits that cursed throne. I am here to collect the souls of dead gods, nothing more.”
“Liar.” I spit the word at him. “You care what happens to him because his fate is tied to you.”
