Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

I didn’t give them a chance to sound an alarm. I threw the tray at the closest guard, and the boiling water spilled over him. He started to scream, but his screams were cut short when I lunged forward. Shifting my body between the two of them, I touched their faces simultaneously. Instantly, their skin turned gray, and they slumped to the ground.

I stared down at the bodies, vibrating with fear. My heart pounded against my ribs.

Two corpses in the hall weren’t exactly discreet.

Shit.

I looked to the top of the stairs. The Pater’s room was just up there, and here I was with two dead soldiers. I was also running out of time with my glamour—I had no idea how much time was left, but I felt that it couldn’t be much.

Dread coursed through my blood, and I turned, looking behind me. I knew I didn’t have enough time to clean up the bodies, and I was so close now. In any case, who would connect two corpses to sweet, merry, muddle-headed Verica?

I cleaned up the tea, tidying it back onto the tray, and marched up the stairs. I could improvise.

On the top floor, I kept walking, imitating Verica’s happy little saunter until I reached the landing and turned the corner to the Pater’s room.

Aldous and Starphan stood outside. Aldous stared ahead while Starphan glowered at me. I flashed him my most charming grin. “I know, I know. I was already up with the tea earlier. But it was just, with the Pater feeling poorly, I thought he could use another visit, along with a warm pot of chamomile.”

“Does he know you’re coming back?” asked Starphan.

I giggled. “I really do love how protective you are. I would love a big, strong man protecting me and warming up my tea kettles on a cold winter night, do you know what I mean?”

Starphan nearly cracked a smile. “Sure.”

“Well, the Pater doesn’t know I’m coming back, but I do like to do nice things for him. So, I just thought a bit of extra tea wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Right. All right, then.” Starphan opened the door a crack and called into the room, “Sacred Pater, would you like another visit from Verica?”

A feeble voice called out, “Send her in.”

I crossed into his room, tray in hand, and my heart slammed at the sight of him, sitting hunched at his desk, scribbling on paper. It was a sparsely decorated room. The only thing that was remotely ornate in there was the gleaming image of the sun over the Pater’s bed.

I slid the tea tray onto a table overlooking a window. “Just thought I might pop by again with some chamomile, my darling, since you were feeling poorly, but do you know what? Ninny that I am, I spilt it on the way up. Still, I thought you might like a little company and help getting into your bed. Always trying to get you into bed, I am.” I giggled coquettishly.

“Thank you, Verica. I will be retiring to bed soon.”

He turned to look at me, his face gaunt, hands trembling. He looked tired, haggard, with dark circles shadowing the skin beneath his eyes—like an ordinary old man, which was deeply unfortunate, because it gave him the illusion of being weak.

But I couldn’t stand there analyzing him. It’s not what Verica would do.

I grinned. “Aw, look at how tidy your bed looks. Be a shame if that got all rumpled with too much activity, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, Verica, you always make me smile. But I keep growing weaker.”

“We need to get your strength up,” I cooed. “Get your virility back. You’ll be hard as iron soon.”

“I was thinking of shortening the trials,” he says. “What do you think? Get the witch sooner.”

My heart pounded hard , but I could not let myself show any shock at this news. “Well, that’s a brilliant idea, shortening the trials.”

He nodded. “Cull the weakest faster. I’ll be healthy again in no time.”

My breath hitched. “Absolutely. Get the weak ones out.” What were we talking about?

“Help me to my bath,” he said curtly.

Oh, gods , no. Was I supposed to stay in there with him?

“Of course,” I said, crossing to him and helping him stand. “Bath time. I know you’re filthy and need a good cleaning.” Internally, I was trying not to retch.

He leaned on me as I walked him over to the bathroom—a sparse, drafty room with a giant stone tub in the center. I helped him over to a chair, then moved to turn on the water in the bath. “The trials will make everything better,” I replied soothingly, trying to get him back on topic.

I turned away from him so I wouldn’t have the image of his naked body burned into my brain for the remainder of my days.

“I need rest,” he said. “And I won’t join the witch-finding tomorrow. I don’t want them to see me like this. We’ll send the new Magister Solaris in my stead. We’ll get the trials over. Replenish my strength with the most powerful magic. Then I’ll be right as rain.”

As I stood in the doorway, turned away from him, I tried to keep my voice from shaking. “You'll be fit as a fiddle in no time. Relax in the bath, my darling. The Archon needs you strong as his sacred warrior. Maybe just do one day of a trial, yeah?”

“Sure. I suppose it doesn’t even need to be the strongest witch,” he said.

I swallowed hard. “Could be any witch, yes.” Truly, what were we talking about?

I heard the water splash as he climbed into the bath. “Or possibly a group of witches. If I siphon the magic off a few of them in one day, it would equal the power of one strong witch. I don’t need to limit myself to just one. I do that, sometimes. A group of weaker witches at once. Saves time. Burn them after.”

My breath went still in my lungs. “Wonderful idea.”

So that was what he did with the witches who survived the trials: he forced them to reveal their magic by pitting them against each other, culling the weakest, then fed off their power. This was the source of his immortality?

Desperately, I wanted to know where the trials would be taking place. He needed to be stopped.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door, and I cleared my throat. “Do you know what, darling, I think one of the guards is knocking. I’ll go check. I’ll be back in two ticks.”

My hands shook as I crossed back to the door. “Yes?” I asked through the wood.

“It’s me.” Sion’s quiet, deep voice pierced the door.

Slowly, I opened it to find Sion standing outside, the guards nowhere in sight. As I looked at him, I could see with dawning horror that already, his glamour was fading—his hair turning back to its deep brown shade, eyes glowing gold again.

“Where are the guards?” I whispered.

“I disposed of them, and the other two bodies you left behind. But we have a problem—more than one, it would seem. Your glamour is fading. And the Magister Solaris is currently on his way here with a retinue of soldiers around him. The Pater called them up here for a meeting about tomorrow’s purification. A witch-finding. We need to go.”

“We need to hear their plans,” I whispered back.

His metallic gaze slid past me as he looked into the room, and he took a deep breath. “Fine,” he whispered. “Call to the Pater and tell him you’re leaving. We’ll hide in the wardrobe.”

“Darling!” I called out in Verica’s voice. “I’d so love to get you into bed, my lord, but the Magister Solaris is on his way. The guards just told me they’re retiring to give you privacy for the meeting. Good night, darling!”

I cringed, hoping it wouldn’t raise too many suspicions. After a minute, I heard his feeble voice call from the bath: “Good night, Verica.”

Sion swept past me into the room. Silently, he opened the wardrobe doors and gracefully sat inside. The Pater’s long robes draped over him. His large body took up most of the space in there, but he pulled me by the waist into his lap.

He reached out, grabbing the wardrobe doors to shut us into the dark. I pushed the fabric of the Pater’s robes away from me to escape the cloying scent of incense.

I curled up in Sion’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around me. “They’ll be here any moment,” he whispered. “I can hear them approaching.”

Beneath me, I felt his muscles flex. I licked my lips at the feel. I was acutely aware of just how powerful he was, of how closely I was pressed against his large, muscled body. I felt tiny next to him. I shifted a little on his lap, and his fingers flexed on my waist. He smelled faintly of musk and woodsmoke.

“Did you learn anything?” he whispered.

“He draws his strength from the witches’ magic. That’s what the trials do. Supposedly, magic is forbidden during the trials, but we all use it to survive. It’s just a matter of not getting caught. The Pater uses the trials as a deterrent against using witchcraft, but they serve a greater purpose for him. He finds the strongest witches to feed on. Those who come out alive are tested for magic, and he then siphons it off them. He burns the rest. That’s how he stays immortal.”

“Bloody hell. That’s how his magic works.” His muscles shifted behind me again, and he swept my hair out of the way so he could peer through the crack in the wardrobe. His lips were distractingly close to the side of my face.

My breath quickened. I reminded myself that we needed the town name of tomorrow’s purification. We needed to tell those poor people to run before it was too late.

I closed my eyes and leaned back into Sion, thanking whatever gods might exist for allowing me to get that information out of the Pater.

There was a warmth in the way Sion smelled, and it made me want to nestle my head into the crook of his throat. It reminded me of a heated cabin in the mountains. Was that his amoris?

My eyes sprung open and widened with surprise as Sion reached under my bum and shifted me on his lap. What had I been sitting on that made him uncomfortable? His large hand slid around my waist again, and I felt acutely aware of it through the thin fabric of my dress, radiating that vampiric magnetism over my skin, making my heart race.

Could he hear my heart racing?

As a firm knock sounded on the door, I peered out through the tiny crack in the wardrobe.

The door creaked open, and an apprehensive voice called out, “Blessed Pater? It’s your Magister Solaris. You summoned me?”

From inside the bathroom, the Pater’s frail voice echoed back, “Yes. I need help getting out of the tub.”

“Shall I come in? There were no guards outside.”

“Yes. They were dismissed. Leave your soldiers out there to guard, will you?”

The Magister started to issue commands—two soldiers outside, the other three in the room with him. Through the crack, I watched as the Magister crossed to the bathroom. I strained my ears to hear their conversation, but it was muffled.

After another minute, he helped the Pater cross back into his bedroom, dressed in a white nightgown.

“They’re on their way already, yes?” said the Pater.

The Magister guided him to the bed. “They will arrive in Lyramor by dawn. I’m certain of it.”

The Pater groaned as he dropped into his bed. “It needs to be done in one day this time, understood? Complete the trails in Lyramor.”

“You don’t want us to bring them back to Ruefield?” asked one of the soldiers, doubt in his voice.

“Only after you find the witches, not for the trials,” said the Pater, his voice rising. “Complete it quickly. Things are getting out of control these days. We need to move faster to rid the world of the Serpent’s evil influence. One day of trials, to be done in Lyramor. Trap them all in the city gates. Start to slaughter everyone. Kill the kids, see if the parents use magic to save them. Keep your eye on anyone who uses their magic, and bring them to me for a private interrogation here. Then I’ll send them to Penore to burn in Sootfield.”

The horror of his words slid down to my marrow.