Page 108 of As Above, So Below

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Eve wasn’t lying.

Good gods, Artemise ispissed.

Over the course of the week, I’ve seen her irritated, angry even.

But this?

This is a level of livid I’ve yet to see—let alone be the source of. Unlike Netharis’ fiery rage, Artemise’s anger is ice cold. A void-like dejection that leaves me questioning my worth.

Leaning over her desk with her hands planted, she stares down at the papers scattered before her. Silver-framed glasses rest low on the bridge of her nose, threatening to fall from her downturned face.

Artemise sighs, a long, drawn out sound.

“Not drawing the attention of the Sovereign King is the only thing Celesta has asked of you thus far,” she says, her voice tight.

Steeling myself against her ire, I clench my jaw and remain silent. I shouldn’t have lingered on the balcony—Artemise is right to be furious. Yet, at the same time, my own irritation begins to rise.

“I will have to commune with Celesta tonight to see what she’d like to do,” she adds, her tone softer.

“For a mother who is concerned about the wellbeing of her daughter, she’s been strangely absent this last week,” I say, my tone defiant.

Artemise’s brown eyes widen with disbelief before darkening with fury once again. “You forget she is also bound to the god of death, Vestaris.”

A quick, white hot flash of humility blazes through my chest.

Straightening herself, Artemise’s mouth becomes bracketed with deep creases of displeasure. “I warned Celesta you would not be ready.”

“Ready for what, Artemise?” I scoff, pulling myself off the far wall, throwing my hands out to my sides. “Because if there’s something I should be preparing for, I’ve not been told what—all I’ve been doing ishiding. Hiding from Netharis, hiding from Kassil, hiding from the Sovereign King—”

“You ungrateful child,” she huffs, her eyes locking with mine.

“No,” I shake my head slowly, “not ungrateful. Tired of letting gods decide things for me.”

Artemise laughs bitterly. “We are all subject to the whims of thegods. All we can do is align ourselves with the god we believe will best protect us from the others.”

“I refuse to believe that,” I argue, my resentment clear. “I refuse to simply relinquish my agency to gods who couldn’t care less about anything other than themselves.”

“And how is that going for you?”

The question cuts through me like the ice cold winds of the Layer of Treachery—and kicks my own rage awake. My innate shudders and stretches, ready to feed.

“Celesta hides you at great risk to herself,” she adds bitterly.

“Another who seeks to use me,” I shoot back, my voice acidic.

Artemise’s eyes grow round.

“Tell me Artemise, what are her plans for this eclipse?” I meet her stare the same way I would when facing Netharis. Unafraid and ready to fight.

She lowers her stare, and a small sense of victory snakes around my heart. With a defeated sigh, Artemise plops into her chair. Reluctant to answer my question. I laugh, a cold, bitter sound.

“At least when Netharis would use me as a means to an end, he was honest about it.” I scowl at her. “Can’t say the same for Celesta.”

Good gods, I never thought I’d say such a thing.

Netharis and honesty are two concepts thatrarelyoverlap.