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Kon waves his hand as if to dismiss my words. "Of course, you are, sweetheart. But not a full God." He steps back again, away from the heavier effects of the slag that coats the bars of my cell. "The way you survived the Race this year was impressive," he says begrudgingly. "Everyone in the city knows your name. You made quite the impression. The man, the one whose throat you slit, who was he?"
I grit my teeth. "That was Amio. I had met him briefly beforethe Race."
"Right, right," he mutters. "You fucked him. That's what he said."
"It left a lot to be desired," I deadpan.
Kon laughs, and the sound of it grates my nerves. "You're a live one, Shadowweaver, I'll give you that."
"Why are you here, Kon?"
"I'm here to put you on notice. You may be the daughter of Winter, but when you leave this cage, you will be mine." He stalks towards the cell bars again, and I stand, mirroring his movements. If not for the bars, we'd be toe to toe, nose-to-nose. "I'm excited to get you home with me. I'm going to have so much fun breaking you."
Kon leaves abruptly, and with him, he takes any piece of me that may have been sympathetic to Himureal. He promised me to this disgusting man? He doesn't know that Zeph has told me, and it will kill me not to bring it up next time I see him, but I must keep it to myself.
Getting out of this cell depends on it.
Zeph slides a tray through the small door in the cell and settles himself at his regular place against the wall. Our relationship has changed since discovering he was my high priest.
Maybe I forgave his transgressions too swiftly. But I think of those stories Himureal told me about the priests who had their drawrejected, and I soften. I may not have explicitly rejected Zeph, but I did reject him. Could the magic that lives within me be the cause of his unfortunate break with sanity?
"Is magic still loud to you?" Zeph asks me as I spoon some stew into my mouth.
"How would I know?" I ask around the food. I choke down a too-big bite. "Only magic I've been around is my own and Himureal's. I can't hear his."
"Me neither," Zeph says, humming.
"Have you always heard it?" I ask, biting into a rock-hard piece of bread. I take a huge gulp of water to soften it.
He shakes his head, bending his knee and propping his elbow on it. His auburn hair looks freshly trimmed and glows in the flamed sconces' light. "Nah, I only started hearing it shortly after my parents died. Less than thirty years or so."
I set my spoon down and stare at Zeph. "You mean, maybe twenty-eight years ago or so?"
His bright green eyes lock on mine. "Shit. Wait."
"I'm the only other person you know that can hear magic, right?"
He nods, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. Everyone has always thought I was losing it when I mentioned it."
"No one but you and I can hear magic. And you started hearing it probably the moment I was born."
"That's a stretch, Shadowweaver."
"Is it, Zeph? Is it really a stretch? All of these weird coincidences, everything that has happened to us that feels like it isorchestrated, and this is a stretch?" I shake my head, my hair falling around my face. "No, I don't think it is. I think this is the draw. Everyone has been saying that I awoken latent magic when I picked up that Witch's Ladder. What if that magic was more than we suspected?"
He pushes to his bare feet, light tan trousers dirty on the bottom. "You're saying that I can hear magic because you can?"
"Can you think of a better explanation? My question is not why we can hear it, but what it means that we can." I tap my fingers on my thigh, using the familiar gesture to ground me in my body as my mind whirls through my past experiences.
"All of this is bigger than us," Zeph says quietly, slumping his back against the cells despite the drain on his magic. "I mean, of course, it is because we're dealing with Gods and potentially a change to life as we know it if we don't succeed. But," his hands rake down his face. I reach through the bars and rest my hand on his shoulder. He stiffens for just a second before relaxing under my touch. "I can't help but feel like we never had a choice in this."
"Maybe we didn't. Maybe there are others out there with draws to humans with Godly magic that never awoken. Regardless, this is our lot. Fuck knows if we're the right people for this job."
He laughs, shaking his head. "I mean, probably not. We're fucking messes, Viola."
"Yeah, we are." My laugh is small and sad. I know I am not the best person to save the world from a megalomaniac of aGod. But I am the only person who can. Me, my high priest, and the people who have decided that I am worthy of their belief and faith. "Do we know what we're getting into here, Zeph?"
"A war."
