Page 9 of The Gods Order

I force my spine to straighten and with shaky hands, I wipe the bile from my lips.

“That was my father,” I mutter.

To no one. Everyone.

I figured silence would follow my obvious statement. Instead, voices rise in every direction. My men talk all at once. Our friends surrounding us ask and make comments I can’t respond to.

All of it crashes together into noise that’s too much and too loud. My body sways, but I lock my knees.

“I need two seconds of silence.”

The Assembly falls hauntingly quiet. I cherish it.

My men brush their thumbs in circles across my skin and my attention zeroes in on those spots, letting them ground me.

“We—”

Creed’s words are silenced as a flash of white light flares through the space. We each tense, then relax a fraction as soon as we recognize the power.

Guilt stares back at me as I drag my gaze up to meet Derivius’s. The tension between us hangs in the air long enough that my men shift even closer to me.

He already knows. He’s always known.

“I’m so sorry, little troublling.”

I swallow the saliva collecting in my mouth and grit my teeth.

“For what?”

“For what comes next.”

Another presence tears into the space the second the words leave his lips. Then another.

My gaze scans over my father, standing shoulder to shoulder with Meridamus. The serious, stoic emotions on their faces have my glare narrowing.

“That’s…wait. What’s going—”

I cast a glance over my shoulder as Yemi shushes Doren and holds on to his hands like she stopped him from moving forward. His wild eyes bounce from her, over my head, then at me. His mouth opens and closes repeatedly.

“Thayla, I swear I didn’t know.”

Didn’t know…

My attention pivots back to the three men standing before us.

Meridamus stands tall as my father squeezes his shoulder.

Reality—the reality I’ve known for over twenty fucking years—fractures right before my eyes.

From my scalp to my toes, everything vibrates as the barrier around Meridamus’s body dissolves. My tongue hums at a frequency so high, my teeth rattle.

“My name is Sumadirem. Beginning God of Consequence.”

“No,” I mumble. “Fuck no. What kind of game are you all playing?”

The denial roars in my mind, but it becomes less plausible the longer I stare into Meridamus’s eyes. The darker brown continues to lighten into a glowing, shining amber. His skin clears and seemingly ages backward.

I lean harder into the arms of my men who hold on to me like my life depends on it. All I can do is thrash my head from side to side.