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"You could've asked."
Leaning forward, his face crossing the center of the table into my space, he grins widely. "But what's the fun in that? Come now, Shadowweaver, it's been so long since I've had someone fun to play with."
Shadow hisses at the God, and he looks at the snake with amusement as he sits back in his chair. My skin is crawling, and I want nothing more than to get up and leave, but we need this God. I push down the bile that threatens to rise in my throat. "I'm not sure I know what you mean by that."
Avidor waves his hand as if swatting my words from the air. "Someone who could match my magic is all. I think you'd be a fun challenge to conquer."
There it is again, that thinly veiled innuendo that seems to lace all of his words. It's just subtle enough that if I make a big deal of it, he could say that I misunderstood him entirely. But I know men like this. I've been around them all my life.
He's not a predator, but he's close. He's testing the waters in a way that he can pretend never happened, that I misunderstood, that I'm just a silly little woman who read into what he said, and he was just being nice.
They're never just being nice.
No one who has good intentions tries to make you believe that what you experienced is false. No one who has good intentions tries to rewrite your narrative.
He is charming, yes.
He is handsome, of course.
And he isoverwhelmingly powerful.
And all of those things are what makes him so dangerous.
I can see through these words. I can dodge them elegantly and not fall victim to his trickery.
But others may not be able to.
He drags his index finger across the top of the table, the nail scraping as he does. "You've always been drawn to my magic, even if it was through fear. I mean, look, you've even mated with someone who possesses but a breath of what I can accomplish."
I rise to my feet, unwilling to entertain this conversation anymore. "I think you need some time to get adjusted to the way things are now. You've been gone a long time, and you seem to have forgotten that speaking like that can get your teeth knocked the fuck out." I catch the slack-jawed expression on his face out of the corner of my eye as I turn. Walking to the door, I pause in the doorway, resting one arm on each side of the frame, and look over my shoulder as I slap a wide smile on my face. "Welcome to Rainworth, Harvest Lord. I'll send someone by to collect you for lunch. Until then, feel free to explore, meet people, or meditate."
Without a backward glance, I leave him behind, and the eerie film that coated me while I was near him evaporates.
Zeph is saying something that I am sure is of importance but I cannot focus on it. We have been sitting at this table in thisbarely repaired home for two hours now, and I am at the point where if I have to talk to anyone else, I may scream.
"Plume's messages to the towns seem to be working. I am picking up more and more devotion towards you lately," he says, hands curled around a steaming mug.
Pushing away from the table, I begin to pace around the room, trying to get the anxious energy from my encounter with Avidor out of my system. "Great, sounds good, I hope I don't let them down," I say absentmindedly.
"Shadowweaver," a sleepy voice says from the doorway. I look up and see Avidor leaning against the opening. He's still shirtless, with those pants slung low on his hips, revealing his slim and toned stomach. His lines of Decay traveling up his arms and neck are on full display. "Do you have a moment?"
Zeph rises slowly and nods to Avidor and then to me. "I'll take my leave. You know where to find me if you need me." Placing a hand on my shoulder, he bows his head slightly to me as he passes me on his way out the door. He slips past Avidor, who's still blocking the entrance, with a surprising grace for a man of his bulk. The Harvest Lord enters and stands across from me, a sheepish look on his face.
"I have to apologize," he says quietly. "It doesn't excuse the way I spoke to you, but fuck," he rubs his face with his hands, a gesture that reminds me of Mace. I angle my shoulders more toward God and cross my arms, curious about where he's going to go with this. "I have never met someone with my magic before. When I am near you, it is like the magic within me recognizes itsother part and pulls me towards you." His face is vulnerable, his shoulders drooped, and I cannot help but feel the same thing he does.
My magic sings with him around, sparking at my fingertips and begging me to let it out to play.
Sighing, I drop my arms and rub my hands on my thighs, brushing my fingers across the hilt of my blades. "I get that. Himureal immediately declared me his daughter and still hasn't let it drop."
"That's the feeling he gets?" Avidor says, confusion marring his striking features. I could not even attempt to guess Avidor's age, but when he looks at me with sincerity, I could believe he was the same as me. If we were both humans in the Lowlands, he'd be massively popular with the men and women of the village.
He is not at all what I expected of a God, but then again, I suppose Himureal isn't either
"Do you understand how powerful you are, Viola?" Avidor says, jolting me out of my thoughts. "My magic practically preens in your presence."
"Mace is an Autumn fae, and you turned down the opportunity to walk with him. If your magic drives your decisions, why not take that opportunity?"
"That is not my magic," he spits, taking a step back. "The magic of the fae is dirty. It's a bastardization of the devotion gifted to the Gods."
