Phoelius nods. “Very sure, and they weren’t cryptic at all.”
“Dangerous.” The God of Treachery exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He signs the parchment nonetheless, then passes it toward Delun.
“I’m not signing that.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Phoelius says.
“You two and the old man are fools. Allowing the God of Death to step out from underneath his father’s rule gives him more opportunity to do as he pleases.”
My head cocks to the side as a buzz skirts across my senses. My power of Accord is trying its hardest to relay something to me, but I can’t quite grasp it.
“I don’t pass judgment on potential. I pass judgment on whatis.”
On what is…
Understanding dawns on me and I desperately want to shove Creed’s sword through his heart. I refrain. Barely.
“You don’t want to sign because it isn’t only Creed you’re leveraging. You don’t want anything to change around here andyou know if you sign that, things will, and you’ll lose whatever it is you’re gaining from the God of Obliteration.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
“Then correct me.”
Silence answers.
The buzzing in my mind sharpens, then settles. It threads together, and somethingclicksinto place as I hold his gaze.
I take a slow step forward, not closing the distance entirely but enough.
Enough that this isn’t a conversation anymore.
It’s a line.
An agreement.
Phoelius stills beside him, and Barir goes quiet in a way that feels…attentive. Sevryn, Gladian, and Mara don’t move to stand beside me, but they inch a little closer.
“You’ve built something here. A system that works in your favor. One that only functions as long as he stays in the exact position he’s in.”
Delun doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
“And you think him being freed from this agreement made on his behalf takes that away from you?” I ask.
“It does,” he grits out through his clenched teeth.
“We agree on that.”
I nod once. A flicker of confusion crosses his face. And I smile. Not wide. Not kind. Certain. The hum in my head deepens into something that feels less like assuming and more likeknowing.
“When this place shifts, remember that you chose this.” I step back, breaking the tension myself. I roll the parchment between my fingers, then starshoot it back to the house. “I don’t need or want your signature, but I appreciate you letting me know whether you’d stand on the right side of what’s coming.”
“You presume—”
“I know!”
His face falls blank as my shout echoes through the space surrounding us.
