Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

S ion stood across from me in the garden, arms folded. He leaned back against a mossy wall, just next to an arched doorway that led to the rambling, overgrown garden we stood in. Above the door, the stony visages of a long-forgotten dual-headed god glowered at me. Sion looked about as impressed with me as they did.

I sauntered closer to him, swaying my hips, and touched his arm. “Pater, my darling, I brought your tea, just the way you like it,” I said, mimicking the chambermaid’s voice, the way Sion had been teaching me for the past two days. “And some fruit with extra cream. You know, extra cream always makes things better.”

I mimicked dipping my finger into the cream and licking it off, hating myself just a bit.

“Voice is perfect, but your expression is all wrong.”

“My expression?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You look unhappy. When was the last time you felt actual unrestrained happiness or pleasure?”

My thoughts spun back to the escape from Ruefield, when I’d touched the soldiers, and death had coursed from my fingertips. Archon above, that could not be what made me truly happy.

“I don’t know,” I said quickly. “When was I last happy? Probably sometime before I was kidnapped by religious fanatics and forced into a maze of deadly traps.”

“So, when, exactly? Give me a memory.” Mist twined around Sion, and he uncrossed his arms, stepping closer to me.

I searched through a flickering stream of memories. Maybe it was back before my cursed touch, when Anselm would kiss my neck beneath the sycamore tree.

No, there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite grasp. I felt it in my thoughts. Just there. But when I tried to grasp the memory, it floated away on the wind, like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze. I’d brought fruit into the forest…

It was gone again.

“I…can’t remember.”

Another step, his gait eerily graceful as he prowled closer. He stared down at me, the gold of his eyes contrasting sharply with his black eyelashes. “Your accent and voice are perfect for Verica, but she always seems happy. Merry. She laughs easily.”

“I can do that.” This was my idea to impersonate Verica, and I wasn't going to give up yet.

If I could learn the Pater’s weakness, the Order would fall into disarray. He had an iron-tight grip on power, and without him, they’d crumble to pieces. I’d never need to spend another night worrying about that little tattoo on Leo’s wrist that marked him as a suspect. I’d never have to worry that they’d capture me again.

He took a step closer, tilting his chin down. “Do you want to know why I am so irresistibly charming, Elowen?”

“Is that how you see it?”

His dark eyelashes flicked up, and his golden eyes bored into me. “I don’t give a fuck about anything except what makes me happy. I don’t care about the Archon’s judgment, nor do I believe he’s real, so I’m not haunted by a fear of his wrath. I am free from imaginary terrors. Deep down, you’re still terrified of the Archon’s verdict, and that fear of his judgment saps the joy out of your life. But he’s nothing more than a ghost. He’s a myth, a story the Order tells us. And if you live in terror of him and what it means to have magic, it will snuff out your fire.”

“Can I just try smiling more? We don’t need to go that deep.”

He shook his head. “Tell me what you first think of when you think of your magic.”

Of course, it was my deepest fear. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

I stared up at him. “I’m afraid that not only will I kill someone I love, but that I will enjoy it as I do.”

“I think I understand now.” A line formed between his eyebrows. “You’re not afraid of the Archon’s wrath. You’re afraid that deep down, you’re a bad person.”

His words felt like a blow to my chest. “And how do I know that I’m not, when I enjoy the thrill I get from killing people? What if that’s who I am underneath it all, and the rest is just a lie?”

“Because bad people don’t worry about that at all, Elowen. The real ruthless killers never bother with guilt, they never second-guess themselves. They certainly don’t take in little orphan babies to look after. And your self-doubt is standing in your way.”

My breath caught. “When I use my magic, it’s a dangerous high, and I can’t stop.”

“That’s because you keep trying to force it away—you’re punishing yourself for it. I want you to be who you once were, the Elowen who still exists beneath the sharp brambles of armor you wear. I think you need help remembering. Because underneath that thicket of guilt, I can sense the real you, and you strike me with awe.”

The way he was studying me made my heart race.

He lifted my chin, eyes piercing mine. Transfixing me. His fingertips brushed against mine, feather light. That was all it took to send heat pulsing through my body, and my lips parted. His golden eyes grew heated, piercing my soul. The full force of his attention was like the power of the sun hitting my skin.

“Remember who you were long ago.” His gaze swept down my body, and when he met my eyes again, it was with an expression that could melt steel. This man must have worked hard to hide his real self when he was undercover as the Magister—embers smoldering beneath cold rock.

The garden’s mist wrapped around us, and I breathed in the salty, humid air, my breath quickening. I closed my eyes, and my mind sparked with a memory, when I dove into a forest stream on a hot summer night. I remembered someone being with me, someone I craved. Who had I been with then? Desire spilled through me, heat sliding down?—

My eyes snapped open again, and I found myself standing so close to Sion, the air charged between us. His eyes had grown dark, his mouth hovering close to mine. As his black gaze slid down to my throat, I knew his vampire side was unleashing . My heart thundered.

I stared up at him. “Did you just fill my mind with a memory that doesn’t belong to me?”

The gold returned to his eyes, and he inhaled sharply, bringing himself back from the edge he had clearly been close to. “No. What was the memory?”

“Swimming…it doesn’t matter. Let me try being merry and flirtatious again, shall I?” A smile played at my lips, and I took a step closer, pressing my palm against the steel of his chest. “Hello, my darling. I brought you your breakfast. It looks so bloody delicious, I could lick up every drop.”

He flashed me a wicked smile. “Better.”

“Did you use your sword today, my lord? It’s been a while since it’s seen a good polish. Would you like a hand with it?”

A line formed between his eyebrows. “Unexpectedly good.”

I licked my lips. “Your boots are looking well worn, my lord. Would you like me on my knees, tending to your needs?”

His gaze flicked down to my lips. “Not sure you could handle me.”

“Oh, I can take everything you’ve got.”

A wicked smile. “See? Your memories helped.”

I arched an eyebrow. “When do we leave for Ruefield?”

“Soon.” He arched an eyebrow in return. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight when we get there. I’m not sending my Death Queen into the Order’s hands without keeping a very close watch. Because if anyone lays a finger on you, I will tear his heart from his chest and drain him of blood.”

I sighed. “Ah, now you’re flirting with me.”

I turned, walking away from him, heading back to the castle.