He chuckled. “Not as much as I enjoyed watching your face when you realized I could actually play the game of Legion.”
“So you can play now. If that wasn’t cheating, I don’t know what is.”
“You’re slipping, Pandora.” He clicked his tongue at me. “You’ll never beat me at this rate.”
“I still have two of the artifacts,” I pointed out.
“Not for long.”
“I take it from the giddy expression on your face that you are scheming something.”
“Always.” His smile faded. “And I’m not giddy.”
I bobbed my head up and down. “Like a kid in a candy store.”
He scowled at me.
“You are oddly focused on this game, considering all else that’s going on,” I said.
“I won’t allow myself to be distracted by popcorn drama.” Jace’s expression was brazen, but he spoke the words quietly. He was probably afraid to loudly proclaim the clashing gods were mere popcorn drama. “If you lose sight of the goal, you will never achieve it.”
“The goal to become an angel,” I muttered.
He stood a little taller.
“It’s too early to celebrate, Fireswift. You aren’t there yet.”
“But I will be. The other teams have allowed themselves to be swept up into the drama, one by one turning against their own teammate.”
“It didn’t take any drama to turn your father against me,” I told him. “He’s hated me from the get-go.”
“And yet you work so well together. In fact, you two are the biggest threat standing in my way.”
“I’ll count myself lucky if your father doesn’t try to poison me before this is all over. Or shoot me in the back.”
“You certainly look oddly unconcerned about winning this.” His brows drew together in suspicion. “And about becoming an angel.”
I couldn’t even become an angel, at least not until I figured out why the Nectar hadn’t leveled me up last time. Athan claimed to know, but he hadn’t clued me in.
But that was not even why I wasn’t so focused on becoming an angel at the moment. There was something bigger going on here. The exodus of secrets from the gods’ vaults felt like merely an appetizer, a prologue leading up to one explosive finale. Who could worry about becoming an angel when all this was going on?
“Don’t confuse my relaxed confidence for apathy, Fireswift,” I told Jace. “I will beat you.”
He expelled an amused grunt, then walked away.
The buffet tables were covered in food once more, so I went to check out what they had to offer. I grabbed a bowl of fruit and cheese. I was on my way back across the room when I noticed Colonel Fireswift and General Spellsmiter were both headed my way, from opposite sides of the hall. The angels looked like they were on a warpath—and that I stood between their clashing swords. They were going to fight over getting me in their division, like dogs battling over a bone. Worse yet, a bone they each found unpalatable, even vile. And Colonel Silvertongue was watching the two angels closely; she was dead set on figuring out why they both wanted to recruit me.
So I grabbed my food, hurried through the nearest door, and disappeared into the hallway. I felt like an awkward high school teenager running out of the cafeteria to eat her lunch alone outside.
I rushed toward the exit, in desperate need of some fresh air. Instead, I encountered the overly sweet scent of inflated egos. The murmur of arguing voices stopped me in my tracks. I recognized those voices. They belonged to Faris and Zarion. I ducked behind a stone column.
“…are you plotting?” Faris demanded.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Zarion replied. “You prance around, exposing everyone’s deepest, darkest secrets. I know it was you who set this up, Faris. You and Aleris. How did you convince him to roll around in the muck with you? He abhors getting his hands dirty.”
Faris smiled cryptically.
“Well, the joke is on you, Faris,” Zarion hissed. “Nothing came of your scheme to ruin me.”
“It’s not over yet, brother.”
“Yes, yes. My sentence of one month at your mercy,” Zarion said mockingly. “I’ve survived worse. You won’t break me. You won’t pull any more secrets out of me.”
Faris laughed. “You still don’t get it. I already know all your secrets, including your biggest indiscretion. And unlike your tangent with that werewolf, this one wasn’t an accident. Before long, the other gods will know it as well.”
“You’re bluffing.” But Zarion’s face had paled.
“We shall see. In good time.”
Faris walked right past the column I was using as a hiding spot, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even seem to notice me. He merely continued down the hallway and entered the main hall.
Zarion stood there in the hallway for a while, looking genuinely concerned. Then he gathered up his scattered emotions, stuck on a hard face, and walked down the hallway in the same direction as Faris had gone. He didn’t spot me either.
I just stood there, thinking over what the two gods had said. Indiscretion. That was the word Faris had spoken, the same word Valora had used to describe Zarion’s mortal affair. I didn’t think that was an accident.
Was Faris referring to another of Zarion’s affairs, perhaps an affair with a demon, the one that had created me? Faris seemed hellbent on exposing his brother’s secret. If I was right about that indiscretion, I would soon find myself drowning in a sea of trouble.
21
Imprisoned
I walked down the hall, trying to clear my reeling mind. There were telepaths everywhere. I couldn’t afford to let my turbulent thoughts bubble to the surface.
Crazy as it sounded, the very real possibility that Zarion might be my father wasn’t actually the problem. No, as far as the gods were concerned, the real problem was my demonic mother. I wouldn’t escape with a mere slap on the wrist if the gods found out about that. I wouldn’t be sentenced to a month of hard training under Faris. I wouldn’t even get away with a whole year of training under him.
Faris knew. I just knew that he knew. And before this was all over, he was going to expose me.
Trying not to allow my panic to bubble to the surface, I ran outside on dizzy steps, disappearing into the gardens. I couldn’t be in a room with all those angels and gods right now. I needed space, breathing room, a chance for my racing heart to quiet—and for everything to stop spinning.
I moved slowly through the gardens, breathing in the sweet aromas, allowing the quiet serenity of my surroundings to seep into me. I was just trying to think straight again. Hell, I’d settle for seeing straight for now. Everything was blurred. Faris’s promise to Zarion that he would expose his indiscretion was playing in constant repeat inside my head, the weight of my impending doom crushing me.
I heard voices. There must have been other people out here in the gardens. I veered away from the voices. I really needed some space right now.
But no matter which way I turned, the voices didn’t grow quieter or more distant. They only grew louder with every passing second, closing in on me from all sides, building up to an explosive crescendo.
“Someone, please help. I don’t belong here.”
I recognized that voice. It didn’t belong to anyone here. It belonged to the woman from my visions.
“Let me go!”
For the first time, I saw her unobscured by shadows. She stood inside a tight prison cell, her dirty hands gripping the thick iron bars. As she shook them, trying futilely to break free, strands of her dark hair fell out of her ponytail, sticking to her smudged, sweaty face. Her clothes were ripped, likely from catching on things as she’d tried to escape the warriors hunting her. Her purple eyes were wide with fear.
The god who’d imprisoned her didn’t make an appearance this time, and now that I finally saw the woman’s face, I didn’t recognize her either. Of course I didn’t. She was just one person out of countless souls on countless worlds.
Wh
oever the woman was, she wasn’t any stronger than a human, nor did she appear to have any spells at her disposal. She looked so weak, so helpless. She hadn’t even fought back when the soldiers had chased her. But that didn’t make any sense. Why would a god imprison someone without any magic whatsoever?
A quake snapped me out of the vision. I blinked. The ground wasn’t trembling; I was. Nero’s hands were on my shoulders, shaking me.
“Nero?”
“You were just standing there,” he told me. “Not moving. As though you were hypnotized.”
“I had another vision. I saw the woman that one of the gods is holding prisoner.”
“Did you see anything that would help us rescue her?”
“No.” I frowned. “Just her face. But I have this weird feeling… Do you remember the visions I had last year in the Lost City?”
“Visions of the past,” he said. “Your proximity to the weapons of heaven and hell triggered them.”
“I saw memories stored in those immortal artifacts, just like the gods’ memories stored inside their immortal artifacts. I think it takes a very strong emotion to imprint a memory on an immortal artifact.” I chewed on my lower lip, thinking it through. “The glasses exposed the gods’ memories stored in those artifacts. But I didn’t have the glasses last year when I saw those memories in the Lost City. And why am I seeing this woman’s memories now when the rest of you are not?”
“I do not know. But your magic is unique.”
I didn’t want to think about my magic right now.
“Why did Zarion chose the punishment that he did, to train under Faris?” I asked. “Considering his relationship with his brother, I’d expect that to be the last thing he’d choose.”
“I’ve thought about it.” Nero didn’t even comment on my abrupt change of topic. “Zarion’s chosen punishment will hurt his pride more than his body.”
“Which is why this doesn’t make sense. Zarion is all about pride.”
“Whatever reason he has for doing this, it is greater than his pride.”
“That reason would have to be one monumental task,” I said. “Like hurting Faris.”
“Exactly. Think about it. Zarion got himself into his brother’s kingdom, into his castle, up close and personal with Faris’s army—for a whole month. There’s a lot he can do in one month. A lot of snooping. A lot of scheming. And, when the time is right, a lot of damage. Plus, he got his son in there with him.”
“But Stash hates him,” I said. “Zarion killed his mother. And he tried to kill Stash too.”
“To cover up his secret,” Nero reminded me. “Now that the secret is out in the open, Zarion has no need to kill Stash. But he will try to use him. Stash is a demigod, a powerful being. Zarion would be a fool not to at least try to sway him to his side. I bet Zarion has it all worked out. Faris will train Stash with the other gods, making him stronger. Faris already said he will take Stash into Heaven’s Army if he does well. Which means Zarion will have eyes in Faris’s domain, a spy in his brother’s army. He’ll be able to keep track of what Faris is up to.”
“Zarion is assuming Stash will suddenly and completely abandon his hatred for him and just do whatever daddy dearest says,” I said.
“Zarion and Stash will be united in their punishment,” replied Nero. “And in suffering under the same god: Faris. For a whole month. That united suffering will forge a bond between them.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe it. I don’t think two people can go from enemies to allies in just one month.”
“You and Colonel Fireswift are allies,” Nero pointed out.
I snorted. “Colonel Fireswift still hates me. And I’m not overly fond of him either.”
“But you have come to an understanding. You’re united in a goal, a purpose. This sort of thing starts out as a necessary alliance, but it grows into more. If this training continued for a month, you might even come to like Colonel Fireswift.”
“If this training continued for a month, I think I’d be contemplating desertion,” I laughed. “Assuming Colonel Fireswift didn’t kill me first.”
“It’s only been a few days since you were teamed up. You’d be surprised how unifying a common goal is. You might come to change your mind about him,” Nero said. “And this training is nothing compared to the suffering Faris will inflict on Stash. Zarion will be right there to help Stash, to share in his suffering and soothe his pain. By the end of the month, Stash will come to trust Zarion.”
“It’s just so hard to believe.”
“Zarion didn’t pick that punishment by accident,” Nero said. “He realized that having Stash’s loyalty—and even love—was worth a temporary blow to his ego.”
Nero sounded so sure that I couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe he was right. He’d seen a lot in his long tenure at the Legion. Zarion certainly was arrogant enough to believe that he could succeed in gaining Stash’s loyalty.
I took a deep breath. Avoiding my problem felt better than thinking about it, but that wouldn’t make it go away. I needed Nero’s help. He’d have an idea of what to do.
“We have another problem,” I told him. “Faris.”
“Faris is always a problem.”
“More so right now than ever before. I overheard him and Zarion bickering in the corridor. Faris mentioned another secret Zarion has.” I looked around to see if anyone was close.
“We are alone,” Nero assured me.
I’d thought so, but I couldn’t help but feel like someone was always watching. Probably because, during this training, someone really was always watching. It had made me paranoid.
“When taunting his brother, Faris used the word indiscretion,” I continued. “I think he means Zarion had another affair. And another child.”
“You believe he means you.”
“I don’t want to believe it, but it seems I have no choice in the matter.” My fake smile, the bandage I’d pasted over my tumultuous soul, wobbled. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Faris promised Zarion he would expose all his secrets. I guess that makes me collateral damage.” My tongue felt as dry and rough as sandpaper—no, a sandstorm.
Nero wrapped his arms around me, hugging me to him. “We’ll take care of it.”
It wasn’t an actual plan, but it was all I needed to hear right now. I allowed myself to sink into him. It felt so good when he was holding me. I just knew we would work this out. Together.
“So far, Faris has exposed the other gods’ secrets in the exact same way,” Nero said.
“By using the glasses.”
Nero kissed the top of my head, then he pulled back and met my eyes. “Hand me the glasses.”
I looked at his open hand, palm extended up. “No way I’m falling for that one,” I chuckled weakly.
“I’m not going to steal them, Leda. I’m going to destroy them.”
I met his eyes. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Paranoia gripping me once more, I glanced around for anyone who might be eavesdropping. “They belong to a god,” I whispered when I found no one around.
“They belonged to a god,” he countered. “They belong to you now.”
“We both know that’s merely a technicality, Nero. This rule-twisting is my bad influence on you.”
“I happen to enjoy your bad influence on me.”
The way he said it made my magic purr in appreciation. I was moving toward him before I knew it, my lips meeting his.
“The glasses still belong to Aleris,” I said between rushed, rough kisses. “He and Faris won’t be happy if we break them. They are using them to air the gods’ dirty laundry.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” The way he said it was so deliciously naughty.
I wanted to do more than just kiss him, but he held me back. He extended his palm to me again. I handed over the glasses.
Nero set them on the ground, stepped back a few paces, then hit them with a storm of elemental spells. Nothing
happened. He tried telekinetic blasts and corrosive powders. He tried breaking them with his hands and crushing them beneath his feet. He even tried shifting them into something brittle and breaking that. Nothing worked.
I slouched. “I don’t think anything we have can put a dent in those glasses. They’re an immortal artifact.”
“Everything can be destroyed, given the right weapon,” he said with unwavering confidence. “We just need another immortal artifact to do it.”
I handed him Zarion’s hairbrush. He slammed it against the glasses. Sparks flew, but neither immortal artifact appeared worse for wear.
“We need an immortal artifact that’s an actual weapon,” he decided, returning the hairbrush and glasses to me.
I tucked them into my jacket. “You didn’t happen to bring along the weapons of heaven and hell, did you?”
“Unfortunately, no. They didn’t fit inside my backpack.”
I laughed at the joke, but it was a short and puffed laugh, strained nearly to the breaking point. And I was breaking right along with that laugh. The remaining secrets—including my own—would be revealed any time now. And without any way to break Aleris’s glasses, I feared we could not stop the deluge.
Nero set his hands on my shoulders and met my eyes. “We will find a way. I won’t let Faris expose you.”
The conviction and passion in his eyes was so hard, so true, that I couldn’t help myself. All my fear and anger and pain collided, exploding into a passion that consumed me. I threw myself at him.
“Pandora.” He caught my wandering hands. “We need to focus on the glasses.”
“Forget the stupid glasses. Everything is falling apart, Nero. And I don’t know if we will get out of it this time. I want to feel a single moment of happiness—now, before it all comes crashing down.”
“We will find a way.” His lips brushed against mine. “We always find a way.”
His fingers stroked through my hair, freeing it from the tight ponytail. With wicked, excruciating slowness, he brushed away the smooth locks. Fervent impatience gripped me. I tilted my head and presented my throat to him, offering him my blood, my body, everything I had. Ruthless and sensual, his emerald gaze slid over me like liquid lightning.
Fairy’s Touch: Legion of Angels: Book 7 Page 20
