Page 56 of Evermore

“You will not speak unless directly addressed by me. You will not move except to breathe. You will follow me, maintain proper posture, and present yourself as befitting your position.” His voice carried the weight of command, each word settling into my bones like chains.

Guess we weren’t changing the damn dress.

We walked in silence down the endless hallway, my feet catching on the rough patches of stone. Each step sent shards of pain up my legs, but I couldn’t adjust my stride or even wince. He’d forgotten to tell me I could blink, so I didn’t, letting my eyes burn as tears gathered at the corners and ice cold anger grew within me.

The meeting room doors swung open, revealing a long table surrounded by people, some I knew to be gods–Serene, Bellatora, Vesalia–and some I’d never seen. They studied me like I was a particularly interesting specimen in a jar.

Alastor pulled out a chair, and I sat, my back straight, hands folded in my lap, face carefully blank despite my burning eyes.

Everyone stared. At the binding marks on my wrists. At the tears tracking down my cheeks. At the way I held perfectly, unnaturally still.

Blink, you sadistic fuck, I thought viciously at Alastor.Just say I can blink.

He ignored me. Looking around the table as if he were taking attendance. I could only see him out of my periphery as I sat facing forward, but it was enough to know his posture had changed. He grew taller, commanding, as he let the others work out for themselves why a mortal might’ve been invited to sit here.

I knew what he wanted from me. To show off the power I’d stolen. But when he learned he couldn’t command it for himself, he decided to keep that information to himself and show his dominance another way.

My eyes burned, but beneath the discomfort, my mind raced, seeking opportunity. These immortal bastards, so convinced of their own superiority, would speak freely in front of a silenced mortal. Their arrogance would be their undoing, and I intended to remember every word.

Alastor poured water into a crystal glass, placing it deliberately in front of me. Such a simple thing turned into another display of dominance. Everything was a game to them, every interaction a move.

He leaned close, his breath ghosting across my ear. “You may blink.”

I kept my burning eyes wide open, even as tears tracked down my cheeks. Small victories were still victories, and I’d take every one I could get.

“The imbalance grows worse,” one of the gods said. I couldn’t see the face.

“Or haven’t you noticed with your new little pet?” another added, her voice like wind through autumn leaves.

“Is there a reason you’ve brought the Huntress to this table, Alastor?” Serene asked. I couldn’t see her face, but I’d know that smoky voice anywhere.

Alastor leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, locking his hands behind his head. “Stand, Huntress.”

I shot to my feet, all qualms about blinking to prove a point gone as fear wrapped around me. Before, when it’d been him and I, I knew exactly where his boundaries lay. Here? Now? As a display of power amongst gods, I was fucked.

“Dance,” he commanded.

My body was thrust into motion, swaying back and forth, spinning, swinging my hips as if I were on the Maestro’s stage. I would not break. Not here, no matter how much the shame of being weak and powerless filled me, stirring the sleeping monster.

Do you see the hands of gods?

No. No. Not the voices.

They take and take. Break and break.

Panic rose in my throat as I felt my Remnants pour onto the floor in waves, shadows awakened from their slumber to comeout to play. I didn’t bother to look at Alastor. I didn’t want to see the calculated smile. That fucking victory.

“Take this blade,” Alastor said, holding a dagger between us.

I refused to let my fingers brush his as the cool metal fell into my hand. I could hardly think beyond the fear. The racing heart. What would he do? How far would he go? He wanted the power. Was this how he intended to get it?

“When I count to three, you will plunge the blade into your heart, Huntress. Go slow. Feel the pain.”

I couldn’t shake my head. Could do nothing but dance with the blade that would end my life. For a brief moment, a flicker of a second, the only thing I could see in my mind was the moment I’d first laid eyes on Thorne. Not the man claiming me as his wife, but the other. The one bathed in blood. The one that’d come into the Maw and killed the Cimmerians that’d tortured me. I wondered if I’d bleed as much as they did. I wonder if these gods would tell him how it happened.

“One.”

Around the table, the gods watched with a mix of fascination and cruel amusement. Bellatora’s crimson lips curled into a wicked smile, her eyes bright with anticipation. Vesalia leaned forward, her delicate features a mask of false sympathy that did nothing to hide the eagerness in her gaze. And Serene, beautiful, lusty Serene, lounged back in her chair, one perfectly arched brow raised as if to say, “Well, get on with it then.”