Page 51 of Evermore

“Thorne,” Minerva said, her voice stern in warning.

I didn’t back off. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way or they wouldn’t stick. I could see his mind working to findthe simple memory, but it wasn’t until his eyes glossed over with angry tears that I stepped back.

“I wanted to believe you weren’t the piece of shit she made you out to be, but she’s right, isn’t she? You’re such an asshole. There’s no boundary you won’t cross.”

“You and I have the same goal, Archer. Learn the game before you challenge the gods who wrote its rules. Otherwise, you’re going to wind up useless and dead. Believe it or not, I’m trying to prevent that. The rules only apply to acknowledged heirs,” I said, lowering the blade. “And even then, every rule has its loophole. You’re not king yet.”

Archer’s jaw clenched, his hand extending wordlessly for the sword. His eyes burned with fury and there wasn’t an ounce of fear in them. I had to respect him for that, at least, foolish as he was. He’d always been loyal to a damn fault. With a slight nod, I handed the blade back, simultaneously releasing the memory I’d taken.

The change was immediate. Archer stumbled back against the wall, his hand coming up to his temple as the memory of his sister’s blonde hair, bright as summer wheat, flooded back. His breathing turned ragged, and I saw his fingers tighten around the sword’s hilt until his knuckles went white. He could never kill me, but he sure as hell wanted to.

Tuck moved between us, one hand raised toward each of us. “Easy now. Thorne made his point, albeit poorly.” He shot me a disapproving look. “And you, lad, just got a small lesson about the reality of what we’re dealing with. Take a breath. He’s right. You want to be here? You want us to take you seriously? Use that brain.”

I watched as Archer struggled to compose himself, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. When he finally looked up, the raw hatred in his eyes remained. But he swallowed hard and asked, “Whose temple is that, anyway?”

“Ezra’s,” Minerva answered quietly.

“Perfect.” Archer’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “And how do we kill gods? So I’m prepared.”

Tuck stepped forward, his expression grave. “You don’t. And you shouldn’t be here. You want to be helpful, go check in with King Aldus. That’s where you need to be or with Quill. She needs protection because Aeris is more dangerous than you realize.”

“Funny,” Archer scoffed. “She said you’d say that. But from where I’m standing, only one god has used their magic on me today, and it wasn’t her.”

Minerva moved forward then, her cane tapping softly against the hard golden surface. Despite her aged appearance, there was always something in those knowing eyes that could make a man crumble. “Young man,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, “consider this logically. If something drastic were to happen in that temple, you would be the only person who knows where we’ve gone. Think about the responsibility that places on your shoulders.” She turned, fixing both Tuck and me with a disappointed look. “And shame on both of you for not considering how foolish that would have been.” Her attention returned to Archer. “You may hate these two, but you’ve not met me.” She held out her hand, suspiciously leaning more on her cane than she needed to. “My name is Minerva. I’m the Goddess of Reason and Wrath. I’m not here to make false pretenses or to pretend to be something I’m not. Most of my peers fear me, mortals don’t typically get to meet me, and if I’m being honest, I’m not typically a fan of them either.”

He took her hand, dipping his chin with the grace of a prince, the Silk in him coming out in full force. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, look at those manners. It’s been so long, I forgot mortals still had those.”

“Proudly raised by my grandmother,” he said. “Who also had blonde hair.”

He withdrew his hand, squaring his shoulders. “No disrespect to you, Your Godness, but I’m not here to make friends. I want to free Paesha from Alastor and be done with all of you.”

She smiled. Actually smiled at him. “And that’s exactly why we need your help. There’s a very good chance we’re going to walk into that temple and not walk out. Would you wait here? If we’re not back in two hours, go directly to Alastor and tell him we’ve been trapped by Ezra.”

“Alastor?” Archer’s brow furrowed. “Why would he care? He hates Thorne.”

A knowing smile crossed Minerva’s face. “So do you, but we can hate someone and need them in the same breath, can’t we?”

I watched as Archer’s resistance wavered under her reasonable argument. He melted back into the shadows of the alley, giving a curt nod. “One hour.”

Once we’d crossed the street, Tuck chuckled. “Did you really just manipulate that poor boy with the oldest trick in the book?”

“The classics are classics for a reason,” Minerva replied with a slight smirk. “Besides, men his age always need to feel both useful and justified in their anger. I merely gave him both.”

“He needs a purpose,” I said, surprising myself with the admission. “I respect what he’s trying to do, even if his methods are…” I trailed off as the massive gates of Ezra’s temple began to creak open before us.

“Shall we?” Tuck asked, straightening his shoulders as we approached the entrance.

The Unmade didn’t move. They might’ve been ominous statues, if not for their steady breaths and the singular beating of their hearts. They were Guardians. And their cause was just, their actions however, a different story. None of that matteredto me, though. They were still mortal no matter their speed and strength. They could die and if I really wanted to piss my brother off, I’d take one of their lives to remind him of that simple weakness.

Tuck’s low whistle drew me away from the lethal fuckers watching us walk by and into the cavernous hall that was Ezra’s new temple. The ceiling was not a ceiling at all but rather a swirling mass of the Never Sky. As if the space between realms should be cast for entertainment.

“That was a choice,” Tuck said, staring into the void.

“It won’t gain him any favors with the Fates. On your toes, boys,” Minerva said, her cane clacking against the floor so hard, had there been anyone but my arrogant brother standing within the room, they’d have looked.

Ezarius, however, didn’t bother. With his hands locked behind his back, he stood, staring up at the carvings of himself on one of the giant stone pillars holding up the ceiling.