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It helped that he had many advisers and hired help who would organise things for him. He only needed to make the important decisions. Geryon was one of those few people.

Once more, Geryon was following them with abject boredom due to their new topic.

Talk of the gods, fantasizing about them, was one of the more popular conversations among the court. High-born nobles were easy to please, so long as they were allowed to talk as much as they liked.

Opinions on a topic like this could last the entire day if a collection of people were speaking of it. He’d heard such a similar string of words before that he had to tune himself out.

Every species on Earth – human, Dragon, Witch – all believed in their own gods.

He knew it could be true that each had their own set, but no one had seen or heard from the gods for so long, many no longer believed in them. Those that did, who swore they had seen them, were fanatical.

He believed, and he would much rather he did than earn the wrath of a malevolent deity.

They continued to speak, the girls each having their own opinion. They were indirect if their opinion differed from Bradwick’s, who shot down their beliefs quickly. They didn’t argue back.

He only truly listened when Cecily began to talk in rhymes, the rhythm catching his attention. Instead of giving her opinion, it appeared as though she was reciting poetry that had been born in tribute to them.

“My lifeblood is shed, steel painted crimson red.

Thousands of men shall lay dead,

for the battlefield is a place where ravens are fast fed.

The all-father calls, we travel to heaven’s cavernous halls.

Then the pure and guiltless veil falls,

when the strike of a life’s final bell tolls.

When the battle is done, the fight in their names is won.

I bow down to the mystical sun,

in belief of the truth of my own dear one.”

There was a long silence following the poem she shared, no one understanding why she had.

“Whether the gods are real or not, whether they are gone or not, whether we should love them or not, pray to them or not, we kill for them. Religion and the gods create more hatred. They should be thought of with caution.”

“So, you fear the gods, then?” Bradwick asked her.

“Anything that can smite us with nothing more than a thought should be feared. I also do not wish to speak ill of them for that reason.” She gave a reassuring smile, pushing her free hand forward. “So please, your Highness. You are welcome to continue the conversation and I will add to it where I see fit.”

Bradwick’s lips thinned in irritation. “As you wish, Lady Cecily.”

She has upset him greatly.Geryon was surprised he was continuing to stroll with them. Usually, when one of his subjects angered him, he’d leave to associate with different people for the day.

From his position behind them, he was able to see Charlotte shove her elbow straight into Cecily’s ribs before she whispered something. He took a guess that she was telling Cecily not to upset him.

Not even a moment later, the girl went tumbling down, falling so hard and fast that not even King Bradwick’s arm saved her. Charlotte’s face was one of the first parts of her that hit the ground.

Geryon winced.That must have hurt.

Cecily had managed to unthread her arm from the girl just in time. She looked down at her with such a cold stare, even Geryon feared Charlotte would turn to ice.

“Be careful of your footing, Lady Charlotte,” Cecily warned. “You could have brought the king down with you, and we do not wish to harm him.”

She tripped her.He knew it, could tell by the way the two women stared at each other.