The war deity’s lips pulled back in a snarl.
Mine split as well, in a grin, as my speech reached its climax.
“I’ll remain at her side in the lifetimes that follow. I’ll play my part in this prophecy. On one condition.”
The babble of disquieted whispers and muttered objections were expected. But this was the nature of compromise. Everyone loses.
“I return to my human, and in return, none of you touch her. Not in this cycle. Not in the next. Never. You, your people, your gods, will not bring harm to my human.”
The hush was cord-taut as they waited for the inevitablebut.
I adopted Tzipporah’s cool, smiling apathy.
“If harm befalls her at your behest—if you or anyone in your realm orchestrates pain, torture, death, or the cruelty you’ve attempted to lure me out of my kingdom and back into her orbit—I will kill you.”
The uproar was instantaneous. Gods on their feet. Raised fists. Incoherent shouts.
I waved a quieting hand but didn’t wait for the full cooperation of their silence. My apathetic smile cracked, a white row of teeth shining as I stripped emotion from my voice, save for calm, assured amusement.
“I will kill any god, any servant, any fae, any one of your faithful. I will smite them on your soil. I will watch them die, and there is nothing—” The cries of outrage nearly drowned the speech, but my cool certainty kept the corners of my mouth turned upward. I raised my voice, but there was no anger in my yell. The loud, booming threat clashed with my unsettling smile. “And before you leave, you will press your consent to this treaty to our scroll. All who participate have made an ally in Hell, and no harm will befall you, as long as you don’t lay a hand on my human.”
A sizzle from one end of the stadium sliced the veil as three goddesses slipped out of the symposium, making a show of their non-compliance. A swirling black crack in the world allowed a few more to escape. Dozens departed. Thousands remained.
The moment my father stood, he commanded the room. I held fast, anchoring myself to the axis between pantheons as he gave his final decree.
His wings flared once more, all eyes on the tall, regal freedom fighter in a simple, silver crown. They watched the deity whose act of rebellion began a civil war that would ripple through the world.
“I will add an addendum to the treaty. Gods will not be responsible for favoring or protecting this human. They will not be punished for natural mortality, nor for the actions of godless humans acting outside of the will of the region’s deity.”
Semantics.
“You may stay, you may feast, you may drink Hell’s finest wines and luxuriate in palace suites reserved for gods. Discuss what you must with me and my retinue. Before you leave, touch your finger to the treaty. Sign and have an ally in my people from now until the prophecy between my son and his human has been fulfilled.” The King flicked his wrist and a scroll hovered inches above his upturned palm. “Stay as long as you’d like and read, reread, study, and make your decision. Your regional entities known for wisdom and counsel are welcome, and Hell’s veil will remain open, should you call them in to examine the treaty. For once you’ve agreed to it, the contract cannot be broken.”
From the upper corner, still snarling, a guttural voice spoke to the King rather than me.
“We’re supposed to sign a binding contract that allows him to kill our gods at will?”
It was the King’s turn to smile. “You avoid hurting an individual every day. Jarovid, is it? Tell me, have you ever harmed, or have you commanded a friend or worshipper, to harm Perun?”
His question was laughable. Had the Slavic god of anger ever tried to murder the highest god in their realm? Their tales were still too fresh and sacred for their people to put their legends to paper, but their pantheon’s supremacy was without question.
The King didn’t wait for an answer. “No? So, it seems you’re already an expert at avoiding killing a single entity. Simply…continue doing that. If you cannot comply, you are free to leave.”
Jarovid split the air beside him, but before he stepped through the veil, I commanded the floor once more.
“Tell them.”
Rippling muscles, full beard, and a ferocity for the ages stared me down.
I leaned toward him, one foot in front of the other, challenging the god of rage, war, and fire before the convergence of deities. “Confess to every god and goddess sitting in Hell’s stadium today the role you played in this blood oath.”
The veil remained torn at his side, but he returned my threatening posture, leaning into my threat. “I didn’t lay a finger on her.”
“How many missionaries had reached your mountains? Three? The faith we battle wasn’t even a threat to you. Not yet. Not when you captured her. Not when you tortured her. Not when you tied her wrists and ankles and sent your horses in four directions.”
Words like tumbling gravel, he snarled, “I. Didn’t. Lay. A?—”
“Mastislav. Yaropolk. Zbiginew. Vojin. Your men. Your faithful. They wore your sigil as they invaded her home in the night. You ensured the beer flowed freely that night as they passed her around. Her death was a welcome relief after what was done to her in your name.”
