This time all four of us whip around to face the most terribly beautiful being, floating naked in the air. I throw a hand up to shield my eyes from his brilliance but squint to peek through my fingers.
Liquid ribbons of vibrant red fabric whip through the air, draping over his shoulders and wrapping around his torso and legs. By the time his feet touch the ground, he is dressed in a resplendent, ruby-red robe.
“Because personally”—he brushes imaginary dirt off his shoulder and walks toward us—“I think it would be a bad idea.”
Gyun drops to his knees and presses his forehead against the ground, his dark, powerful voice unsteady as he says, “Lord Yeomla.”
The god of Underworld.
Chapter Forty-Three
Sunny
I drop to my knees, tugging frantically on Ethan’s sleeve. Even after absorbing his mother’s memories to learn the ways of the Shingae, he still lacks the healthy dose of fear and respect the rest of us bear toward the gods. At my continued urging, he places one knee on the ground, then the next, but he does not bow his head.
“The King Foretold, I presume.” Lord Yeomla directs a mildly interested gaze toward Ethan. “I suppose it is useful for the long-awaited king to have backbone.”
The god flicks his fingers in the air, as though chasing away a fruit fly, and Ethan falls to his hands with a grunt. His neck muscles straining, Ethan struggles to raise his head far enough to glare at Yeomla.
“And strong too.” The god of Underworld purses his lips with reluctant respect. “You are rather impressive, but I must teach you some manners.”
Ethan growls, but I cover his hand with mine and whisper, “This is not a fight you can win.”
“Yes, listen to your ...” Lord Yeomla pauses to consider me. “She is so many things to you, isn’t she? Your friend, your fated love, your queen, your ... ruination.”
“Enough.” I glare at the god, forgetting my own advice. “We are not here to play your games.”
“No.” He forces my head back down by crooking his pinky. “I suppose you are not.”
“Lord Yeomla,” Gyun intercedes. “The Realm of Four Kingdoms is in great peril. The Amheuk—”
“The one thing I do not understand is ...” the god of Underworld interrupts, tapping his chin with a long, elegant finger. “How did the Amheuk breach the Realm of Four Kingdoms? No dark magic, including the eternal darkness, could have withstood the Gray Void. We fueled its magic with thehanof the stranded—a force that grows even more powerful through suffering.”
“We?”I jerk my head up, the Yeoiju flaring in my chest. “You had a part in entrapping those countless stranded souls in there?”
Yeomla’s eyes widen with surprise, either over the glimpse of my power or over my insolence. Then, for the first time since his appearance, a hint of solemnity infuses the god’s expression.
“We four gods do not have the luxury of playing the hero,” he says. “It is our duty to protect the realms, and the Gray Void was the only way to stop the return of the Amheuk.”
“At the expense of all those souls?” I persist.There must have been another way.
“We did what we had to do.” He motions for us to rise, and our bodies obey before our minds can catch up. “Which brings me back to my question, how did our foolproof plan fail?”
“I destroyed the Gray Void.” Satisfaction flashes through me at the shock on Yeomla’s mind-bogglingly perfect face.
“Youdestroyed the only defense against the Amheuk?” He narrows his eyes on me, and terror floods my veins. “And what? You came here to ask for my help? To fixyourmistake?”
“It was not a mistake,” I declare, even though I’m far from certain I mean that.
If I had known my survival meant the destruction of the Gray Void, would I have chosen to die? Would I have left the stranded imprisoned in their endless suffering?
I’ll never know.
But what is done is done. The past cannot be changed. I can only move forward.
“Lord Yeomla.” I aim for a more respectful tone. “We do need your help.”
“I already did everything I can to help.” Disdain twists his beautiful lips.
