Strength (Curse of the Gods #4)(27)

That made me feel … better. I’d always thought—after hearing the fables of Staviti—that he was a lonely sort of god, always trying to create a family. Trying to control everything. Most of the time failing. I was more than a little lucky to be bonded to the only true god family.

Leaning in close, because the hallway had begun to narrow, leading off into the separate residences, I whispered, “Do you think Staviti has been deliberately draining Minatsol?” Siret slowed, turning to face me. “He said there are channels, pathways … does that explain why more than half of this world is dead, and Topia is thriving and beautiful?”

The flaming torches set into little stone nooks high above us were washing warm light over his face. I got lost staring at him for a moment, almost missing his words. “I’m not sure exactly what Staviti did to the worlds, but it’s clear that the balance is off. There is no reason for Topia to be unable to take more gods—we populate a very small percentage of it. Something bigger is going on here.”

Laughter rang out close-by, then, and we cut our conversation off. Siret kept me close as we moved into yet another common area. Long tables were spread out everywhere and gods were sprawled in high-backed, padded chairs. They were eating, drinking, making merry. There were sols scattered about the place, serving the gods. Either they had already found their rooms on the level below, or else they had a nice little surprise in store for themselves later. It was almost funny to see, since the sols were tripping over each other to wait on their appointed ‘god-trainers’, though they didn’t appear to want to do any of the actual chores. The majority of them were standing to the sides of their gods, waiting for any sort of command, or any way to make themselves useful. Occasionally, a god would turn to their sol in an annoyed sort of way, remembering that they were there, and would bark an order. The sol would then turn to their dweller attendant and bark the exact same order.

It didn’t take me long to spot the Abcurses; they were against the far wall, claiming the warmest spot in the room and stealing all of the attention. There was a raging fireplace between Rome and Yael, flickering light over their small gathering. The girl standing behind Rome looked uncomfortable and angry. She had her dark hair pulled into a sharp bun, and was dressed more like a male sol. There was also a girl behind Yael, though she was much more feminine. She leaned against the wall in the same way that Yael was leaning, a knowing smirk on her lips. Whenever Yael shifted, she shifted to match him.

I was starting to get a sick feeling in my stomach.

I glanced at the armchair Coen was sitting in, turning my eyes on the girl standing behind his chair. She was tiny, her eyes dark and her fringe falling over her face. Her skin was fair, her shoulders a little hunched. She was the most powerful pain sol in all of Minatsol? There was something utterly terrifying about that fact.

Aros was in the other armchair—I cringed before turning my eyes to the Seduction sol behind him. Another girl. Of course it was. She had red hair that bordered on pink, and her skin was the colour of a moonless night sky. Dark, rich, almost shimmering as she moved. Her lips were also the brightest pink that I had ever seen. I almost expected her to be wearing pink clothing and carrying a little packet of pink candies, but she was dressed in a tight, black leather corset-dress, the material of the skirt turning to silk as it reached her thighs.

She turned, locking eyes with me, and I immediately wanted to throw up.

There was a loveseat between Aros and Coen, with a single girl sitting directly in the middle. She had purple hair, and when she turned to glance over the back of the chair—because the whole group had turned to look at us by this time—I noticed that her irises were also purple.

That was Siret’s colour.

The colour of Trickery.

I gagged silently, and Siret had to steady me, his deep voice floating down to my ears.

“Soldier? What’s happening?”

“You all have sols,” I muttered, the bitterness on my tongue refusing to go away. “They’re all women. Beautiful women. Staviti, or Cyrus, or someone, is trying to break up our group.”

The truth of that hit me harder than it ever had before. None of the gods liked that the Abcurses were a unit, and many of the gods were annoyed that I had become integrated into that unit. It seemed too coincidental that each of the sols tasked to the Abcurses had been female, and that they would now be forced to spend every sun-cycle with those females for the entire life cycle.

“I see.” Siret didn’t sound happy. We had stopped moving altogether, both standing in the middle of the hall, staring over toward the fireplace.

Aros and Coen stood, but they seemed to be waiting for us to come over to them. They looked unsure. After a click, I realised why. They had given us privacy, allowing Siret and me to have our time, but now they were unsure. The balance was uneven. Pushing away the panic that wanted to take over my thoughts, I forced my feet to move, carrying me the rest of the way over. I reached out as I got there, taking hold of Coen’s hand, and then Aros’s. They both pressed in against my sides, comforting heat flooding into me once more.

“Everything okay, Will?” Coen rumbled, his free hand pressing somewhere just beneath my ribs, while Aros’s hand slipped around my back.

“You’ve been assigned your sols.” I nodded my head toward the girl beside Rome. She had stepped forward as I approached, her fists clenched.