If Thayla’s okay with that.
I’m not sure she will be given the strained relationship she has with her parents.
“Amick,” she breathes against my back.
My shoulders straighten and I take a step forward.
The proper thing to do is for all of us to bow our heads and acknowledge the High Chancellor.
None of us can bring ourselves to do it.
Not even I.
It’s impossible to feign respect toward a being you hold so much hatred in your heart for.
“I see you all are doing well, but no wiser.”
You know nothing of wisdom.
I unfortunately keep that thought to myself.
“Very well,” he says sternly as he wipes the blade off on his robe. He holds it out, handle directed at me. “I expect to see great things from you, Amick.”
My hand is steady as my fingers curl around the leather-wrapped hilt. Every palm this blade has sliced today flashes across my mind and I can’t help my grimace.
This is so utterly vile and unhygienic.
These aren’t the only people this dagger has pierced, though.
My power swells as the tip of the blade splits my skin. As my blood pools in my palm, the atrocities committed with this weapon pile in my mind.
My gaze holds Harriseen’s the entire time I glide my hand through the creation of the Beginning Gods.
He gives me a cruel smirk, satisfied he will now have the secrets I hold.
To his complete shock, I return the gesture.
I, too, now hold his secrets.
The warmth from the essence of the Volreen crawls up my arm to my shoulder. There’s nothing I can do but allow it to measure me to its sacred content.
A velvety parchment forms between my fingers, and I release a subtle breath as I pull it free.
Unlike any of the other gods, I open my own truth.
I will know what it says before him.
The revelation that stares back at me rocks my entire soul. It shivers in my chest. Its responding half, the half that makes me whole, is immediate with its comfort, devotion, and…love.
She will—with her entire being—love me no matter what this parchment says. She will stand with me, proud no matter the decisions I make or truths I spill.
She will always have my back.
I know that better than I know myself.
“Rising—”
“Chancellor Ellian Akova,” I say, cutting Harriseen off.
