Page 113 of The Gods Order

If we were honest, the truth is, Vullie’s afraid of everything. He’s very introverted and would be perfectly content never leaving his chime tower or speaking to another soul. Just his plants and concoctions. And if his father found him, he’d lock him up—maybe even try to get him thrown into Hell.

I can’t allow that.

Also, I didn’t give him a choice about being my friend, and I’m his number one customer.

A faint whistle drifts toward us, snapping all of us silent. A fierce line forms between my brows as I spot a being in the distance…raking leaves.

Kyzen and I peer at one another, asking the same question neither of us can answer.

The melody fades as the god notices us, but nothing in his stance becomes defensive. My nostrils curl.

Ugh. Another blond. He better not be as bad as the others I hate.

“Fix your face,” Kyzen murmurs through his breathtaking smile.

“My face is perfect,” I whisper.

The strange god strolls toward us with a smile. I judge his attire immediately. Baby-blue button-up, black dress pants.

Absolutely ridiculous for yard work.

“Well, this is quite the confusing surprise. I didn’t expect—or hope—to have guests way out here,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask, and Kyzen huffs.

“Forgive my brother. We’re just shocked to see you. My name is Kyzen.”

“I’m aware,” he says, shaking Kyzen’s hand. “I’m Prath, God of Shadows.”

Well, shit. I sort of saw that coming but was hoping I was wrong.

I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear he’s shaking hands with one of the men who murdered his predecessor.

“I hope you haven’t come to kill me like you did my uncle.”

Oops. Seems like he already knows.

A giggle bursts from me before I can stop it. No matter how tight I press my lips, the sound escapes.

“Did you forget to mention that?” Gladian asks, scowling.

Well, duh. We can’t admit those kinds of things.

We also didn’t tell him about his dead brother like our Binder told us to…

Creed’s taking the fall for that.

“I haven’t the first clue what he’s talking about,” I say innocently.

Prath grins.

“Riven,” he says, holding his hand out to me.

I don’t like that he knows who I am.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself, thanks.”

He nods, eyeing me in a way that makes my skin crawl.