“Close,” he finishes. “We were close.”
Close.
Centuries of drama are packed into that single word.
“Then she used my winds for her storms and gave me nothing in return. She made promises she had no intention of keeping. She wore my devotion like a crown and discarded it when it no longer suited her purposes.” His hurricane eyes lock onto mine, swirling with so much anger that I can practically see the hate inside of them. “I’ve spent centuries avoiding anything connected to her.”
I should probably keep my mouth shut. After all, he’s a god. I’m a half-trained witch who proved his point about lack of control by nearly drowning everyone I care about, who was gifted magic by a goddess who’s apparently his mortal—well,immortal—enemy.
Unfortunately for me, my brain-to-mouth filter is garbage, especially while I’m standing in front of possible death disguised as a seven-foot weather system with a grudge.
“So, what now?” The words come out before I can stop them. “You kill us? Add us to your list of ‘things connected to Tempest that pissed you off?’”
“I considered letting the Lost Islands swallow your bones,” he says with zero shame. “Tempest’s champion, destroyed by her lack of control, in waters her goddess couldn’t bother to protect.”
My lungs tighten, as if he’s already drowned us.
“But that would be too kind. Too quick.” His lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his swirling eyes. “She’d never know what happened to you, and she’d spend eternity wondering.”
“So... what?” I cross my arms impatiently. “You’re going to torture us instead?”
“Nothing so crude.” He turns the bag over in his hands again, and the howling inside gets louder. “I’m going to help you.”
I wait for the punchline, but Aeolus simply watches us, waiting for our reactions.
Kieran flips his freshly sharpened blade between his fingers, a lazy rotation that catches the light before his grip closes around the hilt again.
“And what will your help cost us?” he asks.
“It will cost you nothing.” Aeolus’s eyes gleam, clearly enjoying this. “I’m helping you because stepping in to save Tempest’s champion sends a very clear message.”
“What message?” I ask.
“That I don’t believe you can do it yourself.” His smile sharpens. “That I had to clean up her mess because her precious chosen one couldn’t handle her own power. That I’m better at protecting what’s hers than she is.”
The sinking feeling in my chest twists into anger.
Because he’s not helping us to be kind.
He’s helping us to make a point.
“That’s petty,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Yes.” Aeolus tilts his head and smirks. “Magnificently, gloriously, vindictively petty. Does that bother you?”
Yes. Being used as a pawn in an ancient grudge match between gods bothers me a lot.
But it also bothers me that I almost killed my boyfriend and friends twenty minutes ago, that our compass is dead, one of our masts is broken, the stars can’t decide which constellations theywant to be, and that we’ll run out of food and water if we can’t find land soon.
“No. It doesn’t bother me,” I lie, forcing myself to my feet. “Help us however you want. We’re ready.”
Surprise flickers across Aeolus’s face. “Practical,” he says slowly. “I didn’t expect that from one of Tempest’s chosen. They’re usually all passion with no sense.”
“I guess I’m full of surprises,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself as I suddenly realize how cold I am.
He studies me for a long moment.
Then, he holds out the bag.
