Page 16 of The Gods Veiling (The Valorian Veil #1)

“The Volreen will decide if you are, in fact, a worthy recipient of an Attendant. Your Attendant’s domain and abilities will be revealed to you, and you may decide if they are worth your time.

If you are worthy enough, and you chose to accept your Attendant, they will be in service to you for eternity.

They answer to you. They become your responsibility. ”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. ”

“Excuse me?”

The High Chancellor’s voice thunders around the room and the temperature drops below freezing. Some of the Chosen and Attendants flinch from the power behind his question before they all gawk at me.

Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I scan the onlookers, who are stunned on my behalf. I try my hardest to play it off when I finally face the High Chancellor, but it’s obvious I said that stupid shit louder than a breathy whisper.

“Explain yourself now, girl. You are?”

“Uh…”

“That is not a name.”

I quit flexing my fingers and stand statue-still as he rounds the Volreen. His robe flows behind him with his hurried steps and before I have time to gulp, he’s in my face.

“I will not repeat myself.”

“Thayla. Thayla Godrun.”

“What is the meaning of your outburst?”

“I…” I exhale sharply and collect all the courage or stupidity I have. I won’t be able to get out of this one. My bunched muscles relax, and I clear my voice.

Don’t get yourself killed five minutes in, Thayla.

“The role description of the Attendants took me by surprise because it sounded like you were describing slaves not gods, High Chancellor…sir.”

Do you say sir to gods?

There’s an annoyance in his eyes that I can’t decipher. He’s most certainly pissed the fuck off that I spoke out of turn, but he also seems more aggravated that I called him out on that distasteful description.

Quiet murmuring floats through the air from the Attendants and Chancellors staring at me as this monumental embarrassment goes down.

As the noise grows, though, the annoyance in the High Chancellor’s glare morphs.

The new look reveals his true beliefs, and he straightens his robes as he takes a step away from me.

Someone really doesn’t like being called out and made to look bad…

“Where are you from, Thayla Godrun?”

“Oddian.”

“Ah, yes, well, that explains your ignorance, poor girl. I will excuse your outburst and accept your forgiveness. I am sure living a life in the lowest region of our realm has stunted any sort of proper education you should have received. Have no fear, we will catch you up. There have been many in your situation before. You will learn the relevance—importance—of the Attendants. Observe your fellow Chosen who shall be so worthy to receive one.”

With that, he gathers his robe and turns dramatically away from me. His single glare in the direction of the Attendants has them all hushing, but my heartbeat blares in my ears and pounds in my chest.

He positions himself right back where he was standing and carries on as though he didn’t just say what he did to me.

In front of every-fucking-one.

Heat from a body pressing in behind me only makes the temperature of my own rise. “I know you’re mad at me, but I beg you for the love of the stars, do not react, Thayla. He’s the High Chancellor. There’s no telling how long he’s been a god.”

Mellcom’s quiet whisper penetrates the murderous thoughts racing through my mind. I just want to walk over to one of those stupid-ass god head statues and throw it in the High Chancellor’s face.

Lambrit also slides over enough that our arms touch. I’m not sure if he’s planning on snatching me up if I take a step forward or lending support.

My shoulders relax after a number of deep breaths, but the twitch in my fingers remains. Either Mellcom senses me calming down or he’s just standing so fucking close to me he feels my body’s reaction because he takes a step back. Lambrit, on the other hand, doesn’t move an inch.

“The test will be administered in the order in which the Veiling’s choosing took place today. If by chance one of you are placed as an Attendant, and one of the Chosen is given your name, you will step forward then as well.”

I grind my teeth when the High Chancellor’s eyes run over me.

Asshole god.

“We shall start with the Abernie region.”

Of course we will.

Based on his little comment about Oddian, I already know he’s going to call us last. Which means, if I’m not an Attendant for someone in this room, I’m literally going to be the very last person tested.

I hate this place so much already.

Another Chancellor steps up and I’m assuming he’s the one who was present in the Abernie Veiling. He clears his voice and unrolls a small scroll all while observing me closely .

His attention makes me even more uncomfortable and although he isn’t going to call my name, my nerves soar. I gulp down the lump forming in my throat and wait for the tense silence to be broken.

“Albert DeWalsh.”

Every eye in the room tracks Albert as he walks confidently toward the Volreen and Chancellors. Much like many of the other men in this group, he’s tall, fit, and looks like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life.

“Reach your hand in the Volreen. When you feel your parchment in your grasp, pull it out,” his Chancellor instructs.

With a confident nod, he does just that. I force myself not to shift on my feet as we wait. The anticipation I’m going to have to face before it’s my turn is going to kill me.

Albert’s exhale is loud, and the room collectively releases a breath with him. His fingers shake as he passes his parchment to the High Chancellors, who reads it over himself before giving Albert a small smile.

“Wonderful start, Albert. Your dominant Designation is Defender. Followed by Ruler, Guider, Plentiful, then Healer. No place in Attendant at all, and you are worthy of one. Cecil Maro, come forward.”

Through the crowd of Attendants, a kid—well, man, God, whatever he is—makes his way up. He’s shaking in his skin. Unlike the look of steel on Albert’s face, Cecil’s a little green in the cheeks and I’m fearful he might throw up in the Volreen.

“Cecil has a domain under the Goddess of Nature. His abilities are limited to growing herbs.”

Poor Cecil’s face turns from green to red and my hatred toward the High Chancellor deepens. How dare he stand up there and act like that’s not impressive? Like having the ability to grow anything is mediocre.

I think he just gets off acting all high and fucking mighty.

“How would you be able to serve me best in protecting Godsden?”

Albert’s question takes both Cecil and myself by surprise. I didn’t realize we, or whoever has Attendants, could interview them.

“I…uh.”

“High Chancellor,” Albert says respectfully, bowing his head. “I understood your description, but can you clarify for me what exactly it means that he would be my responsibility if I choose him?”

“Very good question.”

Really? I thought we weren’t allowed to ask any ?

“Given your Designation, if ever a time were to occur where you would be needed in defending the region, Cecil would accompany you. Where you go, he goes. You would be responsible for his life. I am not sure the assistance he would bring you in that situation, but Attendants have many more useful responsibilities that they have been trained properly on.”

Albert seems to consider his words carefully. I hate everything about this. Although he isn’t being outwardly disrespectful to Cecil like the High Chancellor is, it makes me sick that they’re up there discussing him, his worth, and his abilities as though he’s an object to be used or thrown away.

“I thank the Gods for seeing me worthy enough of this honor, but I respectfully decline my Attendant.”

“Understandable, dear boy. One day, they may see fit to grace you again. It has happened before, so keep the faith and pray. That is all, Cecil. You both may return to the others.”

This is disgusting.

Thankfully, aside from the embarrassment, Cecil appears relieved. He walks back to his spot among the others and that’s when I notice the relief on all their faces. Subtly, they all smile at him and even some of their shoulders drop.

I tune out the many names that come after that. I pay enough attention to make sure my own name isn’t called or something important is said. My annoyance and apprehension festers to the point my face is stuck in a permanent scowl.

The reactions from the Attendants when one was accepted solidified it to me that they don’t want to be accepted. The entire group as a whole saddened. That makes revulsion bubble in my belly like I ate something spoiled.

Based on how the High Chancellor acts toward them, I imagine it’s much of the same, if not worse from the other gods. They don’t want to be in servitude to assholes, and I don’t blame them.

It’s shameful how the High Chancellor makes them out to be beneath everyone. He sets the precedent of where they stand in society. These are people. People who the gods decided to bring here. They have more importance than this.

The Chancellor who came to Oddian steps up after the female from Darlander gets back in line, sobbing. Her Designation is an Attendant. I’d hug her right now if I could.

I tangle my twitching fingers together behind my back. My feet slide apart a little more as I position myself like I’m about to be attacked. It’s illogical, but it grounds me .

“Garish Foremus.”

Just like this morning, Garish strolls to the Volreen like he’s ready to face his fate. The Chancellor doesn’t bother with instructions now that we’ve heard and seen what to do fifteen other times.

In moments, a new parchment emerges with his hand.

“Garish Foremus. Your dominant Designation is Defender. Followed by Ruler, then Plentiful. You have no place in Healer, Guider, or Attendant. Nor do you have an Attendant. Very good.”

Garish bows, then turns back toward us. His relief is written across his face. His Designations make perfect sense.

There’ve been a few who only have a couple of the Designations. Almost everyone fell into every category somewhat. I don’t know if that means their workload, training, whatever you want to call it, will be less or the same, just divided more among their Designations.

“Lambrit Armend.”

My nerves spike and my fingers flinch with the desire to grab him, but I know better than to do that right now. I watch every move his hand makes and when he pulls it free from the Volreen, I exhale quietly.

“By the grace of the Gods.”

My stomach bottoms out at the High Chancellor’s words. The smile crossing his face as he studies Lambrit up and down has the hair on my arms standing on end.

“High Chancellor.” Lambrit bows.

“You, Lambrit Armend, will be seeing a lot more of me. Your Designation is Guider. That is the only Designation you have. I look forward to your ascension to Chancellor one day. Rose Galeen, step forward.”

A stunning girl makes her way through the crowd of Attendants and her cheeks pinken every time she looks up through her lashes at Lambrit. She’s a good head and a half shorter than him and I swear, he looks at her like she’s precious.

“Rose has a domain under the Goddess of Affection. Her abilities include inciting rest and relaxation.”

Lambrit studies Rose’s face as she looks up at him with doe eyes. The soft tension between the two of them is strong.

“I accept my Attendant.”

His voice is firm and my eyes widen in surprise. He’s never been one to give the girls back in Oddian any time of day .

Rose seems less upset than the other one that was accepted, but she’s also nervous and her steps are unsure. When Lambrit offers her his elbow, her hand trembles.

Sweet girl. She has no idea she just got accepted by the nicest soon-to-be god she’ll ever meet.

I try to politely smile through my unease at her as they come to stand back beside me. She moves behind the two of us like the other Attendants did, but Lambrit pulls her by her elbow to stand between us.

The foreign action of his causes me to chuckle quietly and I take a small step over to give her room.

“Jeremiah Etain.”

My smile melts away as his cocky ass practically skips up to the Volreen and shoves his hand right in.

I hope one of the gods makes a mockery of him.

“Jeremiah Etain, your dominant Designation is Defender. Followed by Ruler, Plentiful, Guider, Healer, then Attendant. You may return to your spot.”

Not as grand of a mockery as I hoped for, but the scowl on his face when he turns back to us pleases me. I’m very thankful he didn’t get an Attendant, though. He would’ve accepted just so he could boss them around.

“Mellcom Bellame.”

I refuse to outwardly show it, but my lungs shrivel in my ribcage. The exhale I was trying to release gets lodged in my throat.

“I am curious what it is they’re putting in the waters in Oddian. Mellcom Bellame, your dominant Designation is Defender. Followed by Ruler, Guider, then Healer. No place in Plentiful or Attendant. You may return to the others.”

My gaze stays forward. Sure, Mellcom’s is searing into me, but the High Chancellor’s attention is far more important. There’s a smug tilt to his lip like he can’t wait to shame me again in front of everyone.

I force the rapid rise and fall of my chest to calm. There’s no hiding the clear hatred and disdain that’s shining on my face.

This whole process has been vile.

I don’t accept the fact that I’m here. I’m wholly and utterly fucking pissed. But since I’m stuck for now, I hope whatever comes out of that gods-gloried creation shocks the shit-eating smirk off his face.

“Thayla Godrun.”