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"How are you still supporting Himureal, Zeph?" When I turn my head to look at her, I don't see judgment in her eyes. I see sadness, fear, and worry—all of the emotions someone would want another person to feel for them in this fucked up situation I have found myself in.
We're still very public, walking down the main street of Ytopie, so I pull us towards my home. "We'll talk in private." Cirrha doesn't fight my pull, and within ten minutes, we're up the stairs to my top-floor flat.
"Zeph," she says tentatively, "why did you bring me here?"
"It wasn't safe to discuss this openly. Drink?" She nods, and I grab a bottle of wine shoved in the back of one of my cabinets. After I pour her a glass, I sink onto the plush couch. "I have a lot to tell you."
So I do.
I tell her every ugly detail, from planning to announce the truth of the Race to beating up Mace, kidnapping Tulip, lying about Mace killing Stone, working with Himureal, planning thetournament, and pretending like I didn't care that Loris died.
When I lay all my transgressions out like a merchant's wares in front of her, I expect her to be disgusted with me. I expect her to put her glass down, shake her head, and leave, never to speak to me again.
But Cirrha has been a continuous surprise, and she shakes her head. "And how are you going to fix this?" is all she says.
That begins the second spiel, the plan with Taegan, the realization that I am Viola's high priest, what Himureal believes and has planned for Viola and Kon. By the time I finish, Cirrha has placed her glass on my table and crossed one long leg over the other. She rests her elbow on the knee and props her head in her hand, thick lips pursed.
"How can I help? Let's take this fucker down."
"Can Air get a message if it doesn't know the destination?" I ask, cutting right to the chase.
"Theoretically," she taps her finger on her chin before sighing. "However, there is a high risk of the message being intercepted, and maybe it will not get to the person at all. There's no real way we'll know."
I run my fingers through my auburn hair and throw my head back against the sofa. "Well, we need a response, so I think we'll know."
"You cannot possibly expect a response back!" Cirrha shrieks. "Anyone in Ytopie could intercept it!"
"We don't have a lot of choices here, Cirrha," I sigh. "The Shadowweaver cannot escape without knowing where her companionsare."
She drags her hands down her face, groaning low in her throat. The sound tightens my skin in a way that's entirely inappropriate for how dire of a situation we are in. "What if we leave the city? Go to the winner's village or something to send the message? Hopefully, then, it won't be intercepted." She uncrosses her legs and slumps back on the couch. "This is a huge risk, Zeph."
I place my hand on her thigh. Her eyes flit to it briefly, but she doesn't say anything. "I know. But as high priest of the Shadowweaver, I have to do what I can to get her out of here safely so we can get the other Gods back. We have to overpower Himureal. He is…" I suck in a breath, closing my eyes briefly. "He's deteriorating, Cirrha. He's rambling, repeating words, stuttering. He is an icicle hanging precariously above our heads."
Her long, slender fingers wrap around mine. The rich, dark skin is soft against mine, and the contrast in our skin tones is strikingly beautiful. "Then we will go to the village."
I've been discretely digging through the bookshelf in the corner of my office for at least an hour when I hear the door behind me open.
"High priest!" Himureal's cold voice calls. "You have not come to see me today."
I straighten my back,plucking a random book off the shelf to hide my erratic search. "Frostweaver, my apologies. I have had many petitions to approve today." I gesture to the pile of paperwork on my desk.
There is always paperwork.
I can sign fifteen requests, and by the time I look back, there are twenty more to take their place.
No wonder my father was always in a mood when he got home at the end of the day.
Himureal grabs a sheet from the top of the stack and peers at it. "This is what the citizens of Ytopie deem worthy of bringing to the attention of their leaders? A Bayal is petitioning that Nereids not be allowed to live in the same housing block as them because it 'dampens their powers'?" He puts the paper back down on the desk. "This can't be serious."
"Unfortunately, it is," I say, grabbing a pen and declining the petition with prejudice. "But it won't go to debate with the Patricians. It's garbage."
Himureal perches himself on the edge of a chair, and I sink into my own behind my desk. He looks oddly eager. Being around him makes my skin crawl. Now that I've seen Viola and how the magic lives within her, I want nothing to do with his. Pretending to be his high priest feels like blasphemy.
"Zeph, I know we've had our differences as of late," Himureal begins, steepling his fingers, "but I want you to know I have reconsidered things and have made a very magnanimous decision."
"Oh?" Irespond, resting my chin in my hand. "What decision is that?"
"I have had countless high priests; did you know that?"
