Page 23

“Enemy magic,” I replied.

The healer and his assistant bowed to Faris, then led the wounded soldiers away.

Faris set down his wine glass. “Those primitive humans don’t have magic.”

“Well, they do now,” I told him. “Someone gave them a bunch of very powerful weapons.”

“Nonsense,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing when I grabbed a roll from one of his baskets.

“Ignoring the truth doesn’t make it false,” I countered, then took a bite of the roll. The flaky crust melted in my mouth. “Wow. This is the best roll I’ve ever tasted.”

“How nice for you,” Faris replied with a flavor of silky arrogance that totally ruined my appetite. “Where are the rest of my soldiers?”

“Those three are the only ones who made it. The others were dead before we even arrived.” I poured the bag of magic batons onto the table. “Courtesy of these.”

Faris looked the weapons over, his voice eerily calm when he said, “And my subjects?”

“They defaced your temple and toppled your statue. They claim they worship a new god now.”

Faris’s nostrils flared. “Who?”

“A god named Solarian.”

Faris braided his fingers together on the tabletop, his face blank. “Never heard of him.”

“Well, apparently, this Solarian guy brought them these weapons,” I said, indicating the pile of batons, “and they used them to kill some of your soldiers and capture the rest.”

Faris rose from his chair, taking a smooth, slow step toward me. “And you just left my world in the hands of these treacherous wretches?”

“Uh….” I exchanged glances with Nero. “Yes?”

“You fled when you should have stayed.” Faris looked down on me, his eyes hard, unwavering and unimpressed. “You should have reclaimed that world for your lord and father.”

I moved forward, my temper flaring. “And just how were we supposed reclaim a whole world from people armed with god-killing weapons?”

“Through force,” Faris bit out, his voice razor-sharp. “You and Windstriker are both formidable warriors. You could have reconquered that world for me.”

“Just the two of us? Conquer a world of millions?” I shook my head. “How?”

“That sounds an awful lot like an excuse,” he snapped back, leveling a hard, commanding stare on me. “And you know how I feel about excuses, Leda.”

I sighed. “Reconquering that world simply wasn’t possible, Pops.”

He bristled. “You will address me as Lord Faris. Or Faris, King of the Gods. Or, if you must, Most Honorable and Exalted Father.”

I ignored him. “Look, we’re lucky to have gotten out of there at all. And we did save your soldiers—well, at least the ones who are still alive.”

“I don’t tolerate excuses,” he replied with a cool look. “Or insubordination. I ordered you to take back that world.”

“Technically, that’s not true,” Nero said, chiming in for the first time since this ill-fated conversation had begun. “You didn’t know the people of that world had started worshipping a new deity. You lost contact with your soldiers and asked us to check it out. And in any case, you can’t order us to do anything, Lord Faris. We are under Ronan’s command, not yours.”

“I am the King of the Gods,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Everyone and everything is under my command.”

“Again, not true,” Nero said calmly. “The gods are an oligarchy, not a dictatorship. I can quote the relevant section of the gods’ charter if you need a refresher.”

When Faris glowered in frustration, I really struggled not to laugh.

I’d received a copy of the gods’ charter a few months ago, but I’d been too busy to read much of it. Nero, of course, already had the whole thing memorized. And right now, I could kiss him for it.