Page 2 of The Gods Veiling (The Valorian Veil #1)

Thayla

How much trouble with the Valories and the gods could I get in for murdering all nineteen of these men in this arena?

Do I even care?

Not really.

Under the stars in the early morning when this torture begins until the sun breaks and sets me free, those are the thoughts that consume all my other ones.

The multitude of ways I’d take their lives is the only distraction that gets me through this ruthless routine I suffer every day.

My eyes sting from the sweat clinging to my lashes and there’s sand rubbing in all the wrong places. The new bruises decorating my body cause my muscles to twitch in agony.

I don’t dare remove my glare off the man preparing to attack me, though.

I’ve known this fool almost my entire life.

He can’t hide his telling sign from me.

He really needs to work on that.

I drop low, ducking out of the way of his incoming sword before it slices me across my chest.

The move is instinctual.

A swivel and a swipe of my leg have him hitting the ground faster than he can process his next attack. A feral smile plays on my lips as I jump up and plunge my sword into his chiseled stomach.

Unfortunately for my murderous thoughts, the weapons we wield are only wooden. No blood pours from his gut. Instead, an outraged grunt falls from his chest as he slaps my sword off him.

I drop my grin as his gaze turns vicious. As much as I’d love to rub it in his ugly— gorgeous —face that I beat him, I decide to offer him my hand to help him up.

Best to take the wins I get and not gloat about them.

He smacks my hand away with a charged grunt, and I crumble in a heap when his foot collides with my ankle.

My body begs me to stay down, and I swallow a scream that yearns to rip from my throat. My mind, though, tells me to bash his beautiful face in until my arm falls off.

I jump to my feet despite the throbbing running through my leg and raise my sword, preparing to do just that.

“Enough.” The commanding shout has the two of us freezing with our swords raised at the ready. My pseudo brother Mellcom positions himself between us with a hand on each of our chests. “Low blow, Jeremiah. She had you down.”

Jeremiah takes a step toward me at the sound of my condescending hum. My muscles twitch and I prepare for him to plow through Mellcom to get to me.

“I’m not praising your efforts. You had no reason to strike him that hard. You know better than to provoke him, Thayla.”

I sneer at their backs as they stomp off toward the waterspouts. Jeremiah curses me for all I’m worth with every step he takes and Mellcom shakes his head.

The ones I can beat—which are few, mind you. I got lucky with Jeremiah today—never take the loss well. They cheer like it’s their victory, though, when the others have me pinned to the ground with dirt in my mouth.

They’re so much easier to kill in my imagination.

I dig the tip of my training sword into the dirt and tilt my head toward the rising sun. It’s going to be scorching today, judging by the sweat sticking to my skin already.

That also means training is almost over…

My eyes roam over the seventeen other men, still grunting and groaning with each strike against their partners .

It’s a good thing we’re on the border of our region and the four tall clay walls keep us confined here. Otherwise, all that nonsense falling from their lips would wake everyone before the sun has the privilege to.

Sure wish I were sleeping in like most of Oddian.

Instead, I’m spending another morning with them against my will.

These aren’t mere mortal men, but immortal beings. Each with a desperate desire to have their power freed so they can sit among the gods who hoard that power.

It’s a desire I don’t share.

Well…that’s a partial lie.

Everyone in the Valorian Veil wants their godly power.

Including me.

Where we differ is that they’d get on their knees to appease the gods. I’d rather shove the wooden sword I’m gripping down my throat. They’ve done nothing for me. Any of us, really.

So why would I want to do anything for them? To be rewarded with something that’s already mine?

I made the unfortunate mistake of announcing that loud and clear a year ago today during training. On this yearly, very sacred day at that.

The Veiling Day.

The day that will change the lives of only a few.

Mellcom is our group of twenty’s leader. He’s by far the most skilled of us all. His massive six-foot-two muscled frame, paired with the strategic brain attached to his big-ass body, makes him a formidable fighter and teacher.

His job is to shape us into the strongest and most prepared versions of ourselves. If during the Veiling our name is called, we need to be ready to impress the Gods of Godsden.

Supposedly.

Last Veiling, he was in brutal form, pushing everyone to their limits.

We all fought each other mercilessly for hours as though we were enemies at war, not partners strengthening one another.

He took no pity on us as though he was sparring in front of judging eyes, hoping he’d be among the five from Oddian called to Godsden.

After we watched him pound into that poor idiot who challenged him, he called me up next.

You can bet your ass I refused .

I wasn’t going to be at the receiving end of his relentless mood after I already took a beating under the stars.

Whatever crawled into his bed with him the night before and left him an unsatisfied, miserable ass that morning wasn’t mine or anyone else’s problem to deal with.

Of course, that little comment said out loud started an argument that’s been remembered.

This group of men training with us has grown used to our spats. It comes with the territory since we’ve been raised as siblings. He pushed me too far that day, though.

My fists clenched at my sides as he verbally laid into me. His words still blare in my ears like a never-ending alarm.

“You don’t have a choice in this, Thayla. You’ll train just like everyone else. We never know what could happen and you don’t tell the gods what you will or won’t do.”

No matter how many times I’ve expressed that I’ll never enter the Veiling, I’ve been told just as many times that I have no choice but to be as prepared as everyone else.

I remember throwing my hands up, attempting to argue why it was a waste of my and everyone else’s time that I was even out there. I wanted nothing to do with the gods.

It made and still makes more sense to me that Mellcom just trains me alone since it’s always been that important to Meridamus and him. Out here, I’m in the way of all these people whose goal is to reach Godsden.

He cut my rant short, baring his teeth and reminding me the gods hear everything we say and all our prayers. If I knew what was good for me, I’d shut my mouth and start reevaluating my life choices.

The audacity.

Red colored my vision, and the ugly side of my temper rose to the surface like an inferno. My mouth can become incredibly disrespectful once I reach a level of no return in my anger.

His words pushed me to that point…

I threw my head back, laughing.

The mocking sound had some men scoffing in disgust, while others looked comically uncomfortable. I made a show of shouting to the sky that the gods could kiss me where the stars didn’t shine .

Mellcom’s face turned furious as the disdain in my laughter faded. My glare leveled on him. Every step I took toward him had his body shaking with the pent-up rage he wanted to release on me.

My prowling ceased as our arms brushed. Despite the almost one-foot height difference between us, I stood my ground, unwavering. The fury leaked out of him as his ferocious features softened.

“Don’t act like this in front of everyone, Thayla. I know this isn’t what you want, but it’s what you must do. The gods have their sights set on Oddian. That includes you.”

His whispered words sent a blazing heat through my body. Of everyone, he’s one of the few people who know why I feel the way I feel.

He’s supposed to feel the same.

I dropped my training sword on his foot and roared, “Fuck the gods!”

My use of the mortal slur left the desired effect I had hoped for. It’s not that we all don’t use the language picked up from the nonmagical realm, but something about directing it at the gods makes it more vulgar.

Everyone sneered and spat at my feet. Their useless curses of ‘mortal lover,’ ‘the Unclaimed’s whore,’ and whatever other unoriginal term they called me did nothing but make me smirk.

I left the arena with my head held high.

My heart and mind believed my days of dealing with endless training were over. I’d made a verbal mockery of the gods they all loved so much. No one would want me in their way in their pursuit of being chosen any longer.

Valories, I was wrong.

The Veiling Ceremony began that day as it always does, according to what everyone said.

I wasn’t there. I’ve refused to attend.

Always have. Always will.

Five names were called. Four men. One woman.

They cheered, cried in happiness, then were carted away to their new lives. I went to sleep breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that my days of waking with the stars to get my ass kicked for nothing were over.

The next morning, punishing hands snatched me from my bed by my ankles. A sword collided with my stomach, stealing the air from my lungs, and Mellcom’s face loomed over me as I groaned. My mind has an imprint of the sad but determined glint that was in his eyes .

Every now and then, I rub the phantom pain in the back of my head. It took weeks for the knot to go down and for the headache to subside.

Truth be scribed, my outburst did nothing but put a target on my back.

Word that I spoke out against the gods spread fast throughout our little region.

My entire training group felt I put a stain on their image to the Valories, our realm’s creators, and all the gods who are listening. That absurd belief solidified in their minds when none of them were among the four men from Oddian chosen at the Veiling.

They decided I’d work off the bad mark no matter the cost.