Page 106

“But you don’t feel as if sleeping under a tarp is suffocating?”

“No.”

Okay. That didn’t make any sense but was beside the point. “Kieran.”

He sighed. “Whatever. There was this old story my mother used to tell Vonetta and me about a girl who had fallen in love with another who was already mated. She believed that she was far more worthy, and so she prayed every day. Eventually, a god who claimed to be Aios came and promised to grant her what she desired, so long as she gave up something in return—the firstborn of the family. Her eldest brother. So, she had to kill him or something. And she did. But, of course, it wasn’t Aios. It was a demis who had tricked her into killing her sibling.”

“Even after hearing that for the second time, it still makes little sense,” I said. “Like, I get the message. You can’t make someone love you, right? Not even a god could or should do that. But why would a demis do that? Why make the woman kill her brother?”

“I guess because the demis can?” Kieran said with a shrug. “No idea. All of that was never really explained, and again, I didn’t think any of it was rooted in truth.”

I reached for the ring, finding the chain beneath the collar of my coat. “This fable could really use some fleshing out.”

“Well, I’m sure the writer of such a story cares about your opinion,” a rough voice intruded from the recesses of the wagon. “Actually, no, they probably don’t. The demis are real but very rare,” Reaver said. “So rare that I’ve never seen one.”

“But what are they exactly?” I asked.

“A god who was made and not born. A mortal Ascended by a god but not a third-born and considered Chosen. The few who existed were considered false gods,” he explained.

Kieran sent me a quick glance. “Do you know of their weaknesses?”

“As I said, I never knew any. The act of Ascending a mortal not Chosen was forbidden, and few dared to break that law.” There was another pause. “Most didn’t survive the Ascension, but those who did, for all intents and purposes, were gods. I assume their weaknesses would be the same as any god’s.”

“Meaning they could only be killed by another god or a Primal or by shadowstone through the head or heart.” I sat back. “That’s good news.”

“It is.” Kieran’s gaze met mine. “We now know how to kill Isbeth.”

It was good news, but if Isbeth was basically a god, she had far more years of experience when it came to using the eather—and, well, everything else.

“Great. Now you two can go chat elsewhere, and I can go back to sleep,” Reaver said.

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you find someplace else to sleep?”

“Why don’t you go fu—?”

“All right,” I cut in as Kieran emitted a low growl. A dull ache had started in my forehead. There’d been headaches on and off for the last couple of days, but I wasn’t sure if this one was due to speaking with Reaver or something else. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“Thank the gods.” Reaver’s hands suddenly appeared above the wagon. He shook them as if he were in joyous prayer.

I took a deep breath, rising. Kieran followed as we made our way across the short distance to the tent we’d shared. I thought everything over. Knowing that Casteel believed he was being kept under Carsodonia and not in the mines or some other place was information we hadn’t had before. As was the knowledge that Isbeth was a demis—a false god that could be killed like any other god.

I stopped before reaching the tent. Kieran had been on watch duty, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. I turned to him. “I can take over from here.”

He nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the star-strewn sky. “How was he?” he asked, having not gotten a chance to ask that before. “How did Casteel look?”

“He looked good. Perfect,” I whispered, chest squeezing. I hadn’t seen those new cuts on his skin like I had the first time. In this dream, he didn’t appear thinner. There was no scruff on his cheeks. He looked exactly as I remembered when I last saw him in person, thirty-nine days ago. But I knew it was a façade. That part hadn’t been real at all, and I wasn’t sure if he’d been able to present himself differently this time because he was aware that we were soul walking. “He told me he was okay,” I said.

Kieran smiled, but I didn’t taste relief from him. Because he knew, just like I did, that Casteel couldn’t be okay.

I touched the ring, closing my eyes.

“Hell,” Kieran muttered. “Look.”

Opening my eyes, I followed his gaze to the empty land between the Blood Forest and us, where thick trails of mist gathered and swirled across the ground.