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The sudden change in subject wrinkles my nose. "I made that assumption, yes."
He clicks his tongue and nods. His eyes go unfocused momentarily, his tongue clicking in a pattern I can't quite grasp. When his tongue stills, he shakes his head and draws my attention again. "Yes, I suppose you would. Out of all my high priests, you've been the most useful."
Wow, how terrible were these previous priests?
"Well, I suppose, except Lucinda, but she was… special." He leans back in his chair, a wistful expression on his face. "But never mind her. I am impressed with your loyalty. As such, I'd like to let you know that I am officially returning my trust to you."
I blink. "I'm sorry. Your decision is that you trust me again?"
"Yes, aren't I generous? Your friend attempted to poison the city against me. You were lucky I spared you at all." His voice grows deeper and colder as he speaks. There are times when Himureal seems closer to fae than God, that maybe humanity lies under the surface. Others, like now, I can see the darkness that's coiled inside him, ready to strike.
"But," the God says, tilting his head to the side. A thick white braid falls off his bare shoulder. He favors a bare chest lately.
"But?" I ask hesitantly. "But what?"
"My trust comes with one condition."
"And that is?"
He reaches into the side of his pants and withdraws a knife from his waistband. It's got a thin, curved blade that is black as night. The handle appears to be made of ice, yet it doesn't drip or melt in the room's warmth. Himureal turns the blade over in his hand, and I notice tendrils of black trailing off the blade like shadows.
"Do you like my blade?" he asks, turning it over in his hands again. "I made it myself."
"It's spectacular," I answer honestly. "Viola would love it."
His eyes brighten and meet mine. "Do you think? Maybe I could make her one as a gift. A gift. Yes, I think she would like a gift."
Sighing, I scrub my beard with my hands. "What is your condition, Frostweaver?" I ask, bringing him back on track.
"Of course. The condition is that I read your blood, high priest."
My breathing has switched to manual, my body locking up at the implication of what he's saying.
In. Out.
I can't decline this. Of course, I can't decline this. If I do, he'll know I'm hiding something.
In. Out.
But when I do this, he will discover what we're hiding. What we're planning.
In. Out.
Who will protect Viola? Taegan? Cirrha? All ofthem will be collateral damage, taken out with a drop of blood.
In. Out.
Can I trick his magic? Is there a way to guide it away from the truth of the matter?
Of course, there isn't. He's going to read my intentions.
In. Out.
I'm fucked.
Chapter 6
Himureal, the Frostweaver
