He reached for his weapon. If I hadn’t been frothing with hate, I might have laughed.
“They’re dead now, of course. Along with a handful of your spirits, cryptids, and what is it thatyoucall demons? That’s right. Aitvaras. They serve you by haunting your enemies in the afterlife, right? Well, served. Good luck finding a single Aitvaras in the mountains you’ve cursed.”
I’d spent a long time topside—enough to know how this information would land on human ears—but I’d been with gods before we conceded to the mortal concept of time. As such, news of a god harming a mortal garnered little reaction fromthe deities intently listening, save for a few soft gasps from the tender-hearted.
Maybe they didn’t care that an immortal being had tortured a human.
But theywouldcarewhy.
“You chose her because you knew she was mine.”
This had the stirring effect I’d been expecting.
“You didn’t even have a quarrel with Heaven. Hell was nothing to you. You’d heard of the woman with the opal aura, and in a pissing contest between realms, you took something that didn’t belong to you,simplybecause you believed you could send a message to a god.”
The murmurs swelled. The remaining members of his pantheon had their backs to me as they’d fully turned to stare at the perpetrator.
“Did it work, Jarovid? Do you feel powerful now? Do you feel safe?”
His face changed as he looked into my eyes. Fight turned to flight, and no parting battle cry could cover the truth of his disappearance. Jarovid stepped through the veil, disappearing from the stadium. A coward, running from the consequences of his actions.
He’d made a powerful enemy.
And I was on the precipice of receiving permission to act on my wrath.
Mokish, the Mother Earth of their realm, got to her feet. She straightened her dress. Cleared her throat delicately, then addressed the King.
“And if we sign this treaty, then someone”—she cast a glance to the empty space where Jarovid had been only moments prior—“violates it, is our entire realm at risk?”
My father turned to me for the answer.
“Only the perpetrator and those they used to facilitate it, Goddess,” I said. “You’re binding yourself to non-retaliation, so you cannot call for vengeance if I kill the god who murdered my human. Her life for theirs. If you’ll allow the indiscretion: I’m pretty confident saying that if Jarovid harms her, I’ll toss his head into the snow, and leave the rest of your gods, your people, and your land in peace.”
The skin around her eyes crinkled with her smile. “In that case, I’ll be the first to sign your treaty.”
Many left.
Many stayed.
Many signed.
Many didn’t.
Hell gained unimaginable allies, though their terms left something to be desired.
They didn’t agree to battle on our behalf. We weren’t to call on them for aid in battle. But those who remained swore to stand firm against Heaven. They would not touch my human. They would stand with Hell, should Heaven bring bloodshed to their soil. They were no longer strangers, and certainly not our enemies.
The mass of oath-wary heavy-hitters left semantics for future negotiations.
Even some of the deserters didn’t quite set us up for battle-ready caution. They could return and sign the treaty at any time. They could refuse to sign it and still know better than to harm my human if she was on their soil.
The toppling stones of destiny had put things into motion long before my compliance. After today’s formal declaration, global eyes were on me, for better or for worse.
Despite how hard I’d fought against it, despite how much I’d loathed grandstanding before lords and ladies as they waited for promises I was unwilling to keep, despite the reaction when I’d calmly promised death to beings, mortal and immortal alike, I left the night with one, lone certainty.
Come the infernal sunrise, I would head to the surface, and I would find my human.
Chapter Sixteen
