Page 80 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

It was Mathias who cleared the throne room. The crime lord’s silver tongue was far more effective at persuading people than Aya, her born affinity be damned.

Though it seemed the appearance of the Midlandian and Milsaion delegates was enough to convince those who had come to watch the executions to change their minds.

Aya couldn’t—wouldn’t—speculate on their hearts.

It was too painful. If she looked too closely at those hisses that had been spat her way when she’d entered the room—if she reflected too long on how the nobles’ and upper merchants’ allegiances changed like the tides—she feared it would embitter her to a point she could not come back from.

“Now, we simply let news travel as it loves to do,” Mathias said as the Dyminara ushered the last of the onlookers from the throne room. Even the Royal Guard had not dared interfere as the crime lord said his piece, and they stood by now, silent and waiting for orders.

In the lingering quiet, Aya’s focus turned not to Hyacinth, but to her father. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and it trapped her tears behind her eyes as she stared upon his face.

Pa fixed her with a gentle smile, his long stride closing the distance between them quickly as he scooped her up in his arms.

“ Mi couera ,” he murmured, voice low and warm and him . She could hardly believe it. Her hands trembled as she pulled away so she could see his face again, her hands squeezing his arms tightly.

“How?” The question lingered in her throat, her eyes burning as her tears fought to be seen.

“Mathias,” Pa said, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. Aya whipped her head to the crime lord. Mathias slid his hands into his pockets, his shrug loose.

“I perhaps felt…guilty, about our overzealous punishment of Callias,” Mathias admitted.

“When it became clear the citizens were out for blood, I had your father relocated and his death staged. My crew began the burning—a punishment that was earned by the man, I assure you—and by the time the crowd gathered, no one questioned whether it was truly your father. Two birds, one stone.”

It was repulsive and genius and—

“You never believed it was me. The rumors in Sitya,” Aya remarked as she finally freed Pa from her grip. She stayed close, though. She wasn’t fully convinced this wasn’t some elaborate dream her grief-soaked mind had conjured.

Mathias grinned—an edged yet seductive thing. “I am intimately acquainted with your threats. I know just how dark you can be, dear Aya. But even you have lines you will not cross. Killing humans for sport is not your preferred flavor.”

“Seven hells,” Will swore from behind her, but there was awe lining his voice, and Mathias bowed in the face of it.

“You’re welcome,” he trilled. He pulled a key from the front pocket of his jacket and tossed it to Pa. “If you’d care to do the honors,” Mathias nodded at the irons still clasped over Aya’s wrists, “we have other matters to attend to.” He shot a pointed look at Hyacinth, who stood guarded by Yara.

Pa’s lips quirked as he unlocked Aya’s cuffs and let them fall to the ground. “I can’t say I ever thought this might be an activity we would do together.”

A laugh cracked from Aya’s chest, her tears finally breaking free as she threw her arms around him.

“Thank you for coming for me,” she breathed.

“You are my daughter,” Pa responded, as if that was the only reasoning he needed.

He turned to Will next, his smile growing softer as he unlocked his shackles. He tossed them aside before grasping Will’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet the man who has my daughter’s heart,” Pa said, and Aya nearly laughed at how outrageous it was that he was doing this here and now .

But Will smiled, his face flushing the slightest bit, and Aya let the moment settle somewhere deep in her heart. It might just be the last pleasant one they had for some time to come—especially as Mathias cleared his throat pointedly.

“The queen?” he prompted.

Liam cast a mournful look at the destroyed doors, as if he longed to close them. “Did you have to be so dramatic?” he lamented to Mathias.

“That was by my instruction, actually,” Yara confessed, a sheepish grin on her face. “I’ve always wanted to make a grand entrance.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: save it for the theater,” Galda grumbled.

Aya tracked the exchange, the familiarity of it all wrapping around her. It made her chest ache . She still could hardly believe they were here. Just hours ago, the bitter sting of betrayal was carving a fresh wound in places that hadn’t yet healed. And now…

A gentle touch on the back of her hand pulled her from her mind. She found Will watching her carefully. Worry lingered in his irises, extinguishing the green flecks until there was nothing but smooth gray.

Aya turned to face Hyacinth. The High Priestess’s cheeks were splotched with anger, her eyes narrowed as she took them all in.

“Hyacinth,” Aya began as she took a step toward her. “I am begging you to see reason.”

“Reason?” Hyacinth spat. “You ask me to hear your blasphemy and call it reason?” Her lips pulled tight as she shook her head. “I will not bow to your heresy.” There was a tremor in her voice, and it had Aya moving closer. She marked the tears lining the Priestess’s eyes.

Hyacinth lifted her chin despite how it quivered. “I have spent my life dedicated to the Divine,” she whispered, agony cutting the words into short syllables. “And yet you ask me to throw away everything I believe in—years of study and worship and truth— on your word alone?”

“ I have every respect for the Divine,” Nyra growled from the foot of the dais.

“It is my devotion to them that demands I fight beside this woman.” She nodded her chin toward Aya.

“I have heard their stories, Hyacinth. A member of your own Dyminara has confirmed what Aya says is true. Gianna’s manipulation by the demigod is a tragedy indeed, but the fault for it does not lie with Aya. ”

Hyacinth shot Liam a withering glare. “He is not a member of my Dyminara.”

An angry murmur rippled across the warriors surrounding him. Pain had bonded them far more than any oath had. Pain, and betrayal. They would not tolerate an affront on one of their own. Not after all they had endured.

“You’re right,” Liam replied steadily. “I do not serve you, because you have done nothing to prove yourself worthy of my service. I will not fall victim to another monarch who justifies their sins with their faith.”

“And I will not stand by and watch as you all lead our kingdom to ruin,” Hyacinth seethed as she rounded on Aya. Will moved, as if to step between them, but Aya stayed him with her hand.

“Luckily for you, you won’t have to,” Aya assured her.

Her steps were steady as she closed the remaining distance between her and the High Priestess. She came to a stop just before her, her head cocking as she held Hyacinth’s gaze.

“I’ve killed one queen,” Aya murmured. “It would be nothing to kill another.”

It would be nothing. Aya could send a jolt of her power straight into Hyacinth’s chest, just as she’d done to Gianna. She could choose from numerous ways to end her life, actually. She could kill Hyacinth right there, and she doubted anyone in this room would question her for it.

And there was nothing— nothing —Hyacinth could do to stop her.

Hyacinth’s face paled, but Aya gave a bitter shake of her head.

It would be nothing…but it would be something to Aya. Something to her soul. She would not be the Dark Saint Evie had tried to make of her. She would not let the fears of the citizens of Eteryium be realized. Not by her.

“Instead,” Aya continued as she held Hyacinth’s gaze, “I will grant you the mercy your faith should have taught you.”

She took a step back, her muscles easing with the certainty of her decision.

“Take her to the dungeons,” she ordered the Dyminara. To Hyacinth, she added, “Perhaps, with time, you’ll finally accept the truth about your gods.”