Persuasion (Curse of the Gods Book 2) Page 18

  “I would consider that affecting you very much.” She glanced at Rome, who had moved beside her.

  He only raised his brows at her in a ‘what?’ expression. It made me grin a little bit.

  “I don’t have time to examine you now,” she said, stepping past me and grabbing the door handle. “I will slip something into your drink at the dance. The outcome will tell us everything we need to know about Rau’s curse.”

  “Ahh—” I held out my hand, as though I could actually stop her from leaving, force her to come back into the room, and change her whole plan so that it no longer revolved around me drinking an experimental substance.

  She didn’t know me.

  There was no way that me drinking an experimental substance would turn out in a way that wasn’t completely chaotic.

  “She doesn’t realise,” I announced, staring at the door as the beautiful and apparently powerful goddess of sorcery moved further away.

  “She’ll realise soon enough,” Aros said on a sigh. “Come on, Brina’s not the only one expected at this dance. We need to go.”

  He didn’t even give me a chance to think of a really amazing excuse that would get me out of going to the dance—and being the subject of Rau’s curse, and having anything to do with any gods other than my Abcurses ever again. It was possible that I would have needed more than a few clicks to come up with a plan that all-encompassing, but he still could have let me try.

  I looked over Rome, Siret, and Yael as they strode ahead, Coen walking behind me and Aros. I was only now noticing … they weren’t dressed-up at all.

  They were wearing battle gear. Not the battle gear that they had worn to the arena, but fresh, clean battle gear.

  “Why are you dressed like—” I started, but Coen cut across me, his low voice brushing down the length of my spine.

  “This is no less a battle than the arena was,” he said. “It’s just a different kind of battle.”

  “So you’re basically just dressed like that to piss off the gods?” I surmised.

  Ahead of me, Siret chuckled. “Yeah, Soldier. That’s right.”

  We reached the dining hall, and for the first time since I had arrived at Blesswood, I could actually see sols in the kitchen right off the main dining area. Their shininess and exceptional good looks did seem out of place, but it was good for them to experience a little of what dwellers did for them every sun-cycle. All the dwellers must have been relegated to the lower kitchens. It made sense, I supposed. Dwellers weren’t good enough to serve the gods. They needed to first have their souls lobotomised and funnelled into serving robots and then they could serve the gods.

  “God logic,” I muttered to myself, as Aros led me through the scattering of people.

  They were all gathered around the centre of the hall, where a dozen round tables had been set up, all arranged in a semi-circle branching off one big long table. There were no gods that I could spot: only sols. Including Aedan. The guy I really needed to punch in the head as soon as I wasn’t in a room full of sols that really wanted an excuse to punch me in the head. He spotted me the very moment that I spotted him, and the smile that took over his face was downright chilling. Holy crap, he had been so good at hiding the fact that he was a psycho. He broke away from the conversation that he had been having and strolled over to us, those creepily-smiling eyes flicking over my guys before settling on me again.

  “Hey there,” he said, still looking directly at me. “I thought only four of you were into the second round.”

  Actually, he had a point there.

  “You can watch them kick us out then,” Rome grunted, reaching out an arm and shoving him aside.

  Aedan fell to the side easily, apparently unfazed, and watched us as we approached the rest of the group.

  “Will they kick you out?” I asked quietly, leaning into Aros to ask the question.

  His hand slipped around my back, settling low against the curve of my spine. I felt a small tug as one of his fingers got caught in the lace, but he didn’t try to free it.

  “They’re not going to kick us out.” He pulled me directly into his chest so that he only had to lean down a little to speak into my ear. “They wanted us to come.”

  I might have accidently slipped my arms around his waist, because the next sound to brush against my ear was a husky laugh, and then he was pulling my arms away, quickly turning me so that I was facing the rest of the room again.

  And that was when the gods decided to make their entrance. There were seven in total.

  The first was Abil, and I was certain that everyone in the room was beside themselves knowing that an Original God was there. He wore purple robes and he strode toward the long table with purpose, looking as though he wanted to get the dance started and ended as quickly as possible. Either he was a very good actor, or else this whole thing definitely hadn’t been his idea.

  As he sat down, his eyes snapped to his sons, and he looked over each of them before noticing me. His brows furrowed a little as he examined me, but my attention was already moving to the next god. This one had silver hair and white robes, but I couldn’t remember what white anything was supposed to mean in the god-world. He was … breathtaking, there was no other way to describe him. He looked younger than Abil, and his eyes were an odd colour: pale, and cold—shot through with silver to match the hair that was pulled back from his face. He didn’t look like the kind of person you wanted to get into a fight with, despite his apparent youth—which did not give me a whole lot of confidence for this dinner. They were bringing in the badass gods. He didn’t even look at anyone as he came in: he simply strode through the door and took his seat, all in one fluid movement.

  Brina was next, the slit in her robe parting around one of her legs as she walked, transforming her into an otherworldly vision of sensual grace. She grinned at my guys before taking a seat next to their father. Abil turned to her, and they started talking immediately, leaning toward each other. The silver-haired god was still ignoring everyone. He was showing his scary face to the tablecloth as though it had been the one to drag him to the hall and forced him to sit there.

  The next three gods wore robes of green, brown, and yellow respectively. Two males and a female. I had the feeling they weren’t Original Gods, although I had no idea how I knew that.

  “Beta’s for Vice, Bestiary, and Nature.” Yael informed me. “Watch out for nature. The Original God is not a bad guy, but his Beta is a bitch of the worst kind.”

  My eyes remained locked on the female with short black hair. Her robes were a deep, rich khaki green, which seemed to match her eye colour.

  “I thought green was your colour,” I whispered back. The room was deathly silent as everyone gawked at the gods.

  He shrugged. “I’m more of a forest green.” His eyes ran across my dress as he said that, and I could tell he was still pleased with his creation. “And I’m also not one of the Original Gods. Not all gods have specific colours. Generally just the Originals – we have them because we demanded them.”

  How surprising. No doubt Yael led that protest group.

  “Who is the silver-haired guy?” I asked.

  That particular god remained staring at the table, but I sensed that he was still aware of everything happening inside the room. It was in the way he turned his head minutely toward sounds, in the way his eyes moved across the tablecloth. It was disturbing—and Abil being all buddy-buddy with the Sorcery Beta was also disturbing, especially since I trusted Abil about as much as I trusted myself to walk through an arena obstacle course by myself without dying at least twice. And then there was the small fact that Brina was supposedly going to give me an experimental drug at some point. She had earned my distrust by association now.

  Siret was grinning at me; it was a true smile of amusement.

  “What?” I half snarled.

  He just kept on grinning that stupid grin, before he finally said, “Your brain … it’s not like a normal brain. Not for a dweller, sol, or
god. It’s fascinating. Scary—in an ‘I’m not sure if this is healthy’ kind of way, but still fascinating.”

  I glared as hard as I could, but that soon hurt my ‘weird’ brain, so I went back to observing the gods and waiting for someone to answer me about the silver-haired one.

  “That is the Neutral,” Coen informed me, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared around the room. His glare was truly terrifying, whereas mine probably had me looking a little mentally unstable. “He’s the god that’s called in as a mediator during our fights.”

  An involuntary shudder ran through me at the thought of gods fighting. That would have to get messy. “Is it a bad sign that he’s here tonight?” I swallowed hard, before running my clammy hands across the lace of my dress. I immediately regretted the nervous gesture; I needed to act as tough as the Abcurses, who literally looked as though they couldn’t give a single shit about being in a room with the Neutral god.

  Their blasé attitude lasted right up until the seventh god made his presence known. He had been standing across the way, conversing with some of the sol leaders—at least I assumed they were leaders. The one thing that I actually knew about the inner workings of Blesswood was that Elowin was the head of the Dweller Relations Committee, but she was dead now, so I’d gone back to knowing nothing at all about the inner workings of Blesswood. The seventh god had been mostly hidden behind a pillar, which meant that none of us could see his bright red robes.

  “Goddammit!” I snarled, trying my best to mimic Rome this time. There were these low snarling sounds coming from his chest, which he totally pulled off. I sounded a little like a wounded jungle cat.

  The boys were standing taller now, all of them closing in on me, surrounding me in a way that pretty clearly warned anyone off attempting to touch me. I wasn’t going to complain—I didn’t want Rau to touch me either, and I had no badass skills to enforce that sentiment. Unlike the Abcurses.

  “Why is he here?” I murmured into Coen’s broad back, my body sinking closer to him. At least my soul fragments were happy: like drunk idiots; running, laughing, rolling in the mud.

  Get it together, souls!

  “Now she’s talking to her soul pieces.” Siret was back to being amused over my weird brain. “Can I keep her?” He turned pleading eyes on his brothers, only for Yael to spin in a flash and deliver a punch right into the centre of his chest.

  “If anyone is keeping her, it’s me,” he snapped. “I won her fair and square.”

  Oh for fuc—“Listen up, assholes. For the last time, I’m not a piece of furniture that you guys own, and can trade around when you feel like it—”

  I was cut off mid-rant by Rome. “Quit fighting, you three, we need to keep our focus on the gods. This situation could get out of control in a click and none of us can be taken by surprise.”

  The seven gods were seated now. Rau had taken his spot right on the end and was calmly looking in my direction. His slicked back dark hair, and those dark eyes were almost too creepy for me to focus on. I’d really appreciate it if he toned that down before he visited again. Actually, never visiting again would be an even better solution to my Rau problem.

  “Stop looking at me.” I didn’t even realise I’d muttered that out loud until Coen and Rome closed the gap in front of me even more, blocking me fully from view.

  It was good in one way, but bad in another: now I couldn’t see what was coming either, and I needed to know. I wiggled myself around a little, crouching down so that I could peer between a small gap. It took me a half a click to locate the gods’ table, but before I could make out any real details, a loud voice had begun to echo around the room.

  “Please welcome these blessed and sacred gods to our humble halls. They are gracing us with their presence, and anything they should want or need tonight is to be theirs. No questions. For the sols here, you have made it through to round two of the arena battle, a round which will start later tonight after dinner, so for now enjoy and eat. But do not lose focus, for many of you will not survive the next portion of this challenge.”

  And there you have it. The Blesswood motto: welcome to the academy, prepare to die!

  Noise broke out through the room then, and I found myself being ushered toward a round table in the back corner. It was furthest from the gods, closest to the door, and it gave us a pretty good view of everything. Strategically, it was the smartest, but least aggressive move. Which told me it definitely wasn’t Yael’s idea. His competitive side would rebel at taking a position in the back corner.

  Thankfully he had been outmuscled this time, with Rome placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder and steering him toward us. I realised, then, that I had deduced all of that without a single word being spoken. I was beginning to understand them better: their personalities and predictabilities.

  As soon as the sols were seated—there were a few dozen around the room, along with the table of gods—the servant sols for the night emerged from the kitchen with trays in their hands. The gods were served first, of course, even though most of them turned their noses up at whatever was on the platters. Abil got a bit more animated when the alcohol was brought out, huge golden goblets filled for each of them.

  “I’m going to need a cup of whatever they’re having,” I said with a sigh. “Actually, don’t even worry about the goblet, I’ll just take the barrel.”

  Aros, who was on my right, reached over and placed his palm against my spine. The material covering my skin might as well not have been there at all, because his heat almost felt like it was branding me. “We promise you can get drunk after tonight, but until then, you’re having water.”

  “What about Brina’s experimental substance?”

  My eyes flicked between all of them, hoping to see expressions of confidence and trust in regards to the Sorcery Beta. Instead there were lots of hard eyes and rigid jaws. Dammit. They had asked her for help, and yet it looked as if none of them trusted her either.

  I was distracted by two large trays landing in the centre of our table. They were piled high with the most delicious array of foods I had ever seen. One held meats and game from the waters around Blesswood; I had eaten the white-fleshed swimmers baked and seasoned before, and quite enjoyed the flaky texture, but my favourite was when they cooked the meat in a puffed pastry, filled with a cream and cheese sauce—which they had done tonight.

  I snagged as many as I could and dropped them down onto the white plate in front of me, before picking out a few other pieces of food, including some of the crunchy cheese bread, which I was probably going to have to seek help for. I was addicted; I could admit when I had a problem.

  Water was poured into our far less fancy goblets—much smaller and half as ornate as the goblets adorning the gods’ table—and I thirstily gulped down the liquid before remembering Brina. My head shot up as I looked toward their table, but she wasn’t paying me any attention, or even looking in our direction. She was still conversing with Abil, both of them drinking from their golden chalices and leaning toward each other.

  I eyed off the water in my own cup, but it just looked … normal, and it tasted just as normal as it looked. That meant it was safe to drink, right? She hadn’t been anywhere near the servers, the water jug, or my goblet. I nodded a few times, deciding it was safe to consume, and I ended up downing the entire cup.

  Delicious.

  It was really delicious, and I needed more. I must have been thirstier than I thought. “Another!” I yelled, holding the goblet in the air, before slamming it down onto the table with as much force as I could manage. Which was surprisingly a lot. The entire side of the wood cracked away beneath my cup, and I had to scramble back so it didn’t land on me.

  I started laughing, throwing my head back at the absolute hilarity of me cracking a table. Willa Knight. Good ol’ Will Knight. I could barely even open a jar with a tight lid and now I was cracking tables.

  I was almost a god by this point.

  The thought had me laughing ev
en harder, which had my chair tipping sideways. If Rome hadn’t grabbed onto the leg, I would have crashed into the floor.

  “What is wrong with your dweller?” The cold, female voice caught my attention. I lifted my head, pushing back my no-longer-sleek hair.

  That sentence took longer than it should have to finally register in my brain, but when it did, I was instantly pissed. Maybe it was the fact that the speaker wasn’t even bothering to ask me what my problem was—instead, deferring to the Abcurses—or maybe it was the fact that she was insinuating that there was something wrong with me in the first place. I mean, in all fairness, there was definitely something wrong with me. I had cracked a table. That wasn’t normal behaviour … but couldn’t she just let me enjoy my super-strength for a while longer?

  Holy crap, I suddenly have super-strength!

  I lifted both hands up in the air, palms facing toward the sol in front of me. “Hold up there,” I said.

  She did, waiting for me to continue.

  Unfortunately, I had nothing more to say. I hadn’t realised that she would actually hold up.

  “She’s fine, sol.” Siret spoke up for me, tugging my outstretched arms back down. “You would do well to scurry off and bother yourself in someone else’s business.”

  Her large, gray eyes blinked a few times, her brow scrunching in confusion. “My name is Jade, I was recently appointed as head of the Dweller Relations Committee in light of Elowin’s request for a sabbatical. All dweller-sol relations are now my business.”

  Sabbatical? What the heck?

  “Sabbatical?” Siret asked aloud. “What the heck?”

  I turned to stare at him, narrowing my eyes. There was a tiny smile on his face, which meant that he had parroted my thoughts deliberately. Even Rome was smirking.

  Jade frowned at Siret in confusion. She looked different to Elowin: less blonde and regal. I would have described Jade as soft and lovely. She was even shorter than me, with rounded curves and long, golden-red hair that was as straight as a board. Her eyes were large, grey, and they seemed almost depthless—and why the hell was I checking out a girl? Was I into girls now? That seemed like a weird thought. I was definitely into boys. Multiple boys, all at the same time … wait a click—