The High Chancellor cuts Creed off with a flick of his hand.
“Thayla will be taken into my custody for thievery. She may not have had the missing relic, but she was in possession of a priceless statue that was stolen from the Athenaeum.”
Priceless…this arrogant ass.
“As we are all well aware, stealing from the Gods Athenaeum is a punishable offence.”
I control the panic rushing through my blood as I gulp. My gaze wanders to Gladian.
He delivered my last punishment.
I’ll be damned before I allow that to happen again.
“She didn’t—”
“I will not hear any excuses. None of you will take the blame for her. It was found in her room, in her possession, therefore she will face the consequences. It has been recorded. Gladian.”
Before the God of Strength can even respond, my Valtrue calls their power up fierce and ready. Time slows to almost nothing.
“Thayla,” Kyzen shouts.
He shoves through whatever Derivius is doing to hold them back and takes a single step toward me.
Then…time catches up to us, and they’re slung to the opposite side of the dining room.
“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t do anything rash right now.”
Derivius spreads his arms out at his sides and his power intensifies. All five of us glance at him in disbelief. The apology in his eye doesn’t mean shit to me right now without an explanation of why the fuck he’s doing whatever he’s doing.
The God of Strength steps forward, tilting his head to Harriseen as though not even a millisecond passed.
“Sir?”
“Take Thayla to the healing villas.”
The wrinkles in Gladian’s forehead smooth out.
What the fuck is that look? Relief?
“Yes, sir.”
My men attempt once again to charge forward, but the wash of power slicing between us keeps them from moving more than a step. They bang and bellow at whatever invisible block is keeping them from me.
“Guys,” I breathe, casting a pleading glance from them to Gladian’s hand that replaces the Dark Gods, to Derivius, back to them.
“We’ll figure this out,” Kyzen roars.
I hate the tremble in his voice.
He needs to lace his fingers through mine before he shoves them in his pockets.
Red has crawled past Amick’s neck. His ears are even crimson. I wish more than anything I could walk over there and rub his earlobe like he does me.
I’m surprised Creed can see with how bright his eyes are shining white. The way his soul strokes mine is vastly different than the rage on his face.
Riven…the guilt reflected at me tears my chest apart.
“Best gift ever,”I mouth and his face crumbles.
