Page 45 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Stillness had not always been a friend of Aya’s. Stillness, and patience, and silence. They had been enemies once, when her roaring thoughts demanded to be heard, and if not, then channeled into movement of her limbs.

But she had learned over time to find her peace within them, to use counted breaths and quiet to rinse away the trembling and the tingling and the whirring.

Perhaps that’s why she’d found solace in the dark.

Aya glanced around the room the guards had escorted her to, taking note of the large windows that made up one of the walls.

A soft gray light spilled through them, casting the room in a lazy sort of glow.

She pushed herself up from the oak table and made her way to one of the towering pieces of glass, the path well-worn over the last hour.

The table, the window, and back.

The table, the window, and back.

Her old friend Stillness was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she’d scared it away. Perhaps it did not recognize who she’d become.

Aya laid a hand against the glass, the iron around her wrist looking more like a bracelet in the reflection. They hadn’t removed her shackles, of course. They hadn’t done much of anything since her proclamation except whisk her into this room and tell her to wait while they deliberated.

She’d nearly laughed at the way it reminded her of a trade negotiation, as if she was no more than a mere good to be discussed among the Merchant Council.

No better than a weapon to be wielded. The thought did not fill her with the same bitterness it once did.

Aya pressed her forehead to the cool glass, her gaze fixed on the jagged rocks that surrounded her. It was strange to be able to see the outside of her prison. She had almost forgotten a world existed beyond the confines of these walls.

But here was the mountain face that they’d traversed down—that sharp decline that had thrown her headfirst into the wall of the wagon.

It seemed the palace, or whatever the king wished to call this structure, was built near the bottom of a mountain gap.

She could see at least two bridges extending between the two jagged faces, connecting one side to another.

A deep cavern continued to stretch on below them, a pit of darkness yawning into the abyss.

It reminded her of the Maraciana, but as though it had been placed in the bowels of the seventh layer of the hells.

The door behind her clicked open, drawing her attention back into the room. Evie stood bathed in the soft gray light, her hands clasped in front of her. She nodded toward the table, the ornate rug beneath it muffling her footsteps as she made her way to it and drew out a chair.

“Quite a long deliberation,” Aya mused as she settled down into her own seat.

Evie placed her palms on the oak surface, her head tilting as she considered her. “With such a drastic change in loyalties, surely you did not expect us to make rash decisions. Besides, there was information to be gleaned from the Midlands spies.”

The shudder that snaked down Aya’s spine at the thought of Evie’s favored methods for questioning was unavoidable, but that didn’t make her loathe it any less. It would take her body time to stop remembering the pain of her torture, to stop reacting as if it were just around the corner.

Time she likely didn’t have.

Evie marked her reaction instantly, a cold smile flashing across her face. She leaned back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she drummed her fingers on the table.

She looked nothing like the late queen, and yet Aya couldn’t help but see Gianna in Evie’s mannerisms. Had Aya ever known her queen without Evie’s influence? Or had the saint—the demigod—already taken up residence in her mind permanently?

“I must say,” Evie began, “I was surprised at your proclamation. Of course, I had hoped our efforts would wear you down, but I did have my doubts that you would break.”

Aya didn’t bother to hold Evie’s gaze. Her eyes fixed on a scratch in the worn wooden table, her nail digging into the groove of it. “Everything breaks in the end,” she murmured.

“Maybe so,” Evie mused, “but how do we make sure?” She drew her hands into her lap, her back straight and chin high. A queen without a throne , Aya thought distantly.

“I could have a Sensainos rip the truth out of you, I suppose,” Evie continued thoughtfully. “Or I could do it myself.”

Aya pressed her palms flat onto the table. “Do what you must,” she replied evenly. “My answer will remain the same.”

“What brought me your forgiveness?” Evie wondered.

Finally, Aya brought herself to meet her stare. Evie’s dark hair shone in the soft light bleeding through the windows. It brought to mind another head of raven strands, shining in the sun while she stood by Will’s side on the edge of the Wall.

Aya blinked the dream away.

“I don’t forgive you,” Aya confessed, her voice strengthening as the truth bled into her words. “You killed my best friend right before my eyes. Not to mention the countless other atrocities you’ve committed.”

“So why help me then?”

Aya sat back in her seat, the hard wood digging into her back.

“Being here has given me time to think, among other things. What has abiding by the gods ever done for me? They weren’t there when my mother died.

They did not stop my father and me from falling into poverty.

They did not keep me from a vicious queen’s grasp.

Nor yours. They killed their own, and they did not stop her from seeking revenge by bestowing power on an unsuspecting girl. ”

Evie pursed her lips as she turned over Aya’s words. “An accident,” she corrected, “but point taken.”

Aya did not care if it was an accident or not. It had brought her here, and she would use what she had been given to put an end to this.

Even if it meant destroying herself in the process.

“Helping you, though it brings me no pleasure, serves my own goals,” Aya finally answered. “What was it you said? Vengeance is a powerful motivator. ”

Evie laughed, the sound cold and sharp. “I still don’t see how this is supposed to help me trust you.”

“I don’t need you to trust me,” Aya admitted with a small shrug. “I certainly don’t trust you. But you can’t do what you need to do without me. And I can’t do what I need to do without you .”

Aya’s head felt clearer than it had in ages. Perhaps that’s what came with finally making her choice. But Evie remained skeptical, a small frown wrinkling the space between her brows.

“And what of the precious realm you sought to protect? What of the innocents that you screamed at Gianna to save just two months ago?”

Two months.

The realization ripped Aya’s breath from her so viciously, she was afraid she might choke. Evie wasn’t subtle with the way her power wrapped around her, sensing for Aya’s truth.

Aya closed her eyes and let her feel it. Let her see it in the agony that weighed down her shoulders and hollowed out her chest.

Everything breaks in the end.

“Those innocents turned their back on me the moment they got the chance.”

The mother in Sitya. The mob in Dunmeaden.

Aya hated how betrayal still managed to carve out something of her. She was surprised there was anything left for it to take its knife to.

“And your precious lover? Surely you opening the veil will affect him? The gods have said they would not spare the realm a second time. And even if they do…surely he would never forgive you for siding with us?”

Aya slid her hands from the table, her fingers interlacing as she placed them in her lap. She’d grown used to the smooth skin of her palm.

“He’ll likely be dead by then.”

The words tumbled from her mouth, bitter and broken and true , because there was no reality in which Hyacinth would give Will a fair trial.

Aya tried not to think of what would happen if there was, of how her own actions could sign his death sentence instead.

Evie’s power receded like the tide. Her blue eyes were steady as they scanned Aya’s face.

“I sense the truth in you, and my Sensainos affinity is more refined than most,” she finally remarked.

“But we’ll need to test your loyalty.” She smoothed a hand down the folds of her robes.

“The spies from the Midlands were very forthcoming. You know how effective our methods can be,” she smirked.

“They confirmed the Midlands plans to retake Sitya. They will be disappointed if they expect us to simply stay in Kakos and allow this to unfold.”

Aya gnawed on the inside of her cheek. It would be safer, would it not, to stay tucked away where no one could find them? After all, how many people knew where the king’s stronghold was? Surely the Kakos forces in Sitya could handle the attack.

It would be safer, yes. Unless the time had come for Kakos to truly act.

“What is that you want me to do?” Aya finally asked.

“I want you to prove that you are loyal to our cause. Fight with us against Sitya.”

“Done.”

“That easy, is it?” Evie chuckled. “I am not asking you to simply wield a sword.”

Of course she wasn’t. Aya lifted her chin, her irritation rippling like water over stones. “No request from you is ever simple.”

Evie tilted her head, as if to cede the point.

“The realm thinks a Dark Saint has returned. It was…a necessary cover to ensure my own safety through anonymity,” she explained.

She leaned forward, her arms bracing on the table as she fixed Aya with an eager look.

“I want you to prove them right; to use the power I gave you to finish Sitya for good.”

Aya was surprised to find it wasn’t horror that washed over her at Evie’s revelation. Instead, it was the cool focus that came with clarity.

Another mission, another assignment.

Aya turned it over in her mind, prodding it for weaknesses. There was, of course, the obvious one.

“My power is inferior compared to yours, is it not?”

Evie flashed her a knowing grin. “Inferior compared to a demigod’s, perhaps,” she allowed. “But not compared to the Visya. The blood of the gods runs through my veins. In some ways, that means you have gods-given power twice over.”

“Nearly limitless,” Aya murmured.

It had seemed like so much before she’d met Evie. Before it had been torn from her in chunks, ripping her soul to shreds.

“In the measurements of mortals, yes,” Evie replied. She paused, her lips thinning as she took in the faraway look on Aya’s face. “Should I take this as hesitation? Reluctance?”

“Self-preservation,” Aya corrected. She blinked, her shoulders rolling back as she tried to shake off the weight pulling them down. “I cannot erase the gods from this realm if I die in a petty battle, can I?”

Evie gave her an appraising look. “You underestimate your abilities.”

Aya thought of the clearing in the woods, decimated with a single outward gust of her power.

She thought of the ash on her tongue and the acrid smell of burning flesh as she took in the dead Royal Guard surrounding Tova.

She thought of Will’s face, surprised and awed and terror-struck just before he went careening over the edge of the wall.

“On the contrary,” Aya muttered. “I know exactly what I am capable of.” Her fingers tugged on the cuff of her robe as she tucked the memories away, along with every bit of emotion that came with them. Her voice was steady when she spoke next. “So, when do we leave for Sitya?”