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I don’t think I even really hoped there was a way, but I find myself swiping at my eyes all the same.
This is how I am. This is how I’m going to stay.
As I reach the stable next to the Temple of Tranquil Skies, I can tell I did arrive ahead of the rest of our makeshift squadron. My pulse hiccups at the thought that they might have been waylaid after all, but one of the devouts emerges from the main temple building just as I’m dismounting.
“You separated from the others,” she says without any significant sign of concern.
I nod. “I had an extra errand to take care of. I don’t think they should be too far behind…”
She grins. “Not at all. Zevim’s been watching from one of the towers—he says he can see their lanterns about a half hour’s trek out.”
I exhale with a rush of relief. “Good.”
When I’ve left Toast comfortable in the stable, I emerge to find Casimir just crossing the yard. He hurries the last short distance to join me, his smile fond but his tone urgent. “How did the mission go? Is everyone all right?”
I lean toward him, grasping the front of his shirt, and he tucks his arms around me automatically. Even more tension unwinds as I rest my head against his shoulder, although nothing can budge the tightest knot that’s formed in my gut since my talk with Kosmel.
I force out my voice. “No significant injuries, seven accomplices rescued, and no one will be using that facility to make more clay bodies any time soon.”
Casimir hugs me a little closer. “Perfect. What was your extra errand, then?”
The devout must have passed on what I told her.
I swallow thickly. “I went to a temple of Kosmel to have a little chat.”
The courtesan hums. “And was it enlightening?”
“Kind of.”
I inhale, taking in his sweet sandalwood scent, and so much more I want to say fills my chest. Casimir has always seemed to have the closest relationship to his chosen godlen out of all of my men.
But what I want to discuss now, I don’t think I want to bring up within hearing of the devouts serving their godlen so avidly.
“I’m tired,” I say. “And I could use a bath. How about you practice some of that pampering skill on me?”
Casimir chuckles. “I’d be delighted to.”
He guides me into the temple to one of the smaller bathing rooms and starts the water running.
As he considers the limited selection of oils and soaps, I twist my hands together in front of me rather than starting to undress. “Casimir… do you ever get frustrated with Ardone? Have there been times when you felt like there was more she could do for you that you deserve, and for some reason she hasn’t come through?”
The courtesan turns to look at me. “I think it’s totally normal for any human being to have moments of frustration. But I don’t dwell on them. I know every godlen has a lot of dedicats to watch over—and what they want most is for us to thrive by our own abilities rather than relying on them.”
He pauses. “What did Kosmel tell you about the riven?”
The lump returns to my throat. I have to gather myself before I can go on. “If I believe the die’s answers came from him, he confirmed what Alek discovered. We were created to destroy the first scourge sorcerers. And they—they didn’t leave us this way on purpose. The gods can’t heal us.”
“Oh, Kindness.” Casimir walks straight to me and pulls me into another embrace. “At least you know that none of them see you as a monster, then. But it isn’t fair that you and others like you have to continue suffering the consequences of their misstep.”
“I don’t understand,” I mumble against his shirt. “Surely there was some way the godlen could have let people know that it wasn’t our fault, that we could use help.”
“Maybe they did, as well as they could. You’ve seen how stubborn people can be even when presented with facts. Once the idea became ingrained… Humans do like picking scapegoats so they have something concrete to aim their fears and angers at.”
They do. And maybe I’m doing the same thing with the anger simmering in me—aiming it at the gods when it’s really a huge mess of blame that I doubt anyone could pick apart.
I manage a rough bark of a laugh. “So you don’t think any divine beings are going to smite me for thinking some not particularly kind thoughts their way?”
Casimir strokes his hand up and down my back. “I think they’d see that anger as your right. We all need to be allowed some grace.”
