Page 248 of Season Warriors & Wolves

Nia threw her a glare and the old queen nodded. “He is…as they say…a-adorable.”

Visha quietly put a small wooden bird and a piece of paper on the table next to my plate. “Golgotha left these for you before retreating to Hellas.”

I took the little sculpture, running my thumb over the immaculate details.

Four wings.

A lightning mark trailing down its head and down its long tail.

Four claws.

A thunderbird.

Like the prophecy. You were just as exquisite. Perhaps the only rebirth I will ever witness in my eternal life. Let us not see each other again, guardian. You remind me why I thrive on chaos, the excellence of it. I wish to desire no more. My creatures are happy and alive. I’ve learned those few days I remained between you that perhaps that is all that matters.

The wind was sweet despite the weather shifting further into winter. It was the sweetest on the roofs of Taren castle overlooking my peaceful city sitting and taking a breath after all they had been through. It was the best way to celebrate survival. We had not won much, and we’d lost too much. Over the three weeks after the war, we had realised that perhaps not won at all. There had been no winners. Only those that had lost a little less than the other side.

“What will you do if they reject what you have to say?” Alaric asked from where he stood beside me, observing the face of the city that was glistening under the sun.

“When has slighting me become a smart choice?”

“They are gods, kid. They might not even deign you an audience.”

“Alaric,” I said, turning to him. “I am the fucking audience.”

Grabbing the sceptre, I jumped from the roof and bolted to Valda Acme. The climb was gentler this time and I realised why many took this path so often in their lifetimes. To be only with my thoughts calmed me a little before I reached the top, but for sure parched my tongue. The moment I reached the roof of the mountain, anger surged again for not bringing food and beverage for my little walk.

“Mighty guardian of the Gates,” I cooed, looking around. She should have been here already considering their godly ears must be itching from all the badmouthing that had taken place at council gathering this morning.

Calandra showed up almost immediately after my call. Mighty and divine as she’d been the first time we’d met. Her eyes widened, staring between the sceptre and I. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Call your god,” I said, stabbing the sceptre on the ground and taking a seat on the anemone covered floor. “Actually, call all of them.”

She huffed a short laugh that was not of amusement. And when I didn’t laugh back, her reaction turned to agitation. “They—”

“They will come at my call. If they are not concerned by it, then I might take a walk in your realm and make it a concern,” I said. “Hurry now. I’m rather hungry. If I wait too long, I might be hungry for blood.”

Reluctantly, she backed away into the silver pillars and disappeared into thin air.

I waited.

And waited.

Perhaps seconds or perhaps hours, I didn’t know because I was truly, really and absolutely famished. Hunger often made time go too slow or too fast.

When she returned, someone else stood by her side. Someone I’d seen before. At lake Asterin, right after I’d almost lost Kilian. Long white hair and a pleasant face, the god smiled at me brightly. He’d been the one to bring Kilian back to me.

“I’ve never been demanded before,” he said smoothly, his voice was silk and clouds, and it made me sit straight up as if it had been a command. There was a connection between us, the sort only kin were connected. A distant sense of incaution. And there were only a few I felt that about.

“How precious,” I said, leaning back on my hands and his brows hiked up a little, noting my unladylike posture. My back was killing me from that climb. “Where is the rest of you?”

Just when I asked, they all poured out of the gates. One more stunning than the other. I recognised them all. All eight prime gods of Ithicea stood before me an exact reproduction of my imagination. Mighty. That was the perfect word for what they looked like.

The woman with dark straight, silky long hair raised a thin brow at me and then Nubil. “A fascinating creature.”

Nubil nodded proudly. “I thank you.”

“No one is to thank but my insane father,” I said, interrupting their ridiculous conversation. I pointed the sceptre at each of them. “Which, by the way, is all your fault.”