Seduction (Curse of the Gods #3)(61)



I wasn’t going to wait for any more encouragement; I spun and ran back toward the arena entrance, searching along the ground for where I might have dropped my broken spear. I didn’t see it anywhere, of course, but it didn’t matter. I could maybe use Chaos. Probably. Hopefully.

“Found her!” a familiar voice shouted out, and I noticed Aros standing right beneath the arena gate, two stolen spears gripped in his hands and blood smeared up his arms.

“Gods.” I lurched to a stop before him, reaching for one of his arms. “Is this yours?”

“No.” His eyes were heavy on my face, trying to dig into me, to measure how I was feeling. “Sorry, Willa. We had to hurt some of them.”

I turned to the arena, where the others were still fighting, though Siret was now breaking free from the centre of the death-circle, swiping servers out of his way. The bodies were piled up all around them. And … they were still fighting.

“Where the hell are they all coming from?” I asked, flinching as Siret kicked another server out of his way.

“Don’t know,” Aros grunted, shifting one of his spears to a holder at his back.

I could see Rome in the center of the mass, trying to knock people away from him without doing any serious damage—and mostly failing. I could see Coen, too, causing people to crumble around him, their screams of pain echoing over to me.

“Where’s Yael?” I shouted, as Siret drew closer, kicking away another server.

“Went to find you. Figured we’d need to send Persuasion to convince your ass to stop being a hero.”

“Ah. Well, I have returned. Just in time to rescue you.”

Aros snorted, using his second spear to tap me on the shoulder. “We could have been done with this fight half a rotation ago—figured you wouldn’t want us killing too many of them, though.”

“Thanks, Three.” I wanted to pull him into my arms and wrap around him, but I had to fight the urge off. I was forcing all of my emotions away. I needed to.

“Found her!” The shout came from behind me, but I didn’t have time to spin around before two arms locked around me, drawing me tightly against a broad chest. “There’s a dweller-Emmy outside the arena with Willa’s mother and a couple carriages. Apparently, Willa is trying to rescue us.”

“That’s what she said,” Siret confirmed, before turning and running halfway back to the death-circle. I could hear his shout still, from where I stood. “Hey Pain! Strength! Willa would like to rescue us now!”

“Now?” Rome bellowed back. “Can it wait a bit? We have a bet going!”

“What a bunch of shweeds,” I muttered, before summoning an internal reprimand to project into all of their heads.

We need to get the hell out of Blesswood before Staviti tears the place to the ground in his attempt to punish us.

“She has a point!” Coen yelled across the arena. “Be there in a click! I’ve almost beaten his body count!”

“Ye-ah,” I drawled sarcastically, rolling my eyes toward Aros. “They’re trying really hard not to hurt anyone, aren’t they?”

“Let’s um … go and see the carriages?” Siret reached forward and grabbed a hold of my shirt, attempting to pull me out of Yael’s arms.

It didn’t work; Yael only tightened them around me, lifting me up off the ground.

“Mine,” he grumbled. “Let’s go see the carriages.”

Siret’s eyes narrowed, and I started to realise that they were possibly all a little riled up from the fighting. I tapped on Yael’s arm, and wriggled a little until he loosened them, allowing me to stand again. We didn’t have time for a god-brother-fight, so I reached out and caught Siret’s hand, and led them both from the entrance. Aros followed behind, a small smirk on his face as though he found my intervention a little bit funny.

Outside, the pandemonium was continuing to die down as the final few stands of people fled the arena. I wondered if the sols were finally starting to re-evaluate their burning desire to become gods. I would have been thinking twice if my perfect, benevolent, wonderful gods had sent a bunch of warrior-Jeffreys down to try and wipe me out.

It didn’t matter if it had all been meant as some sort of message or punishment for me and the Abcurses. In a way, being nothing more than unimportant collateral was probably even worse.

“There they are!” I pointed toward Emmy, who was wearing a frustrated sort of expression.

She was staring at my mother, who stood before the two carts, two bullsen tethered to the front of each. I barrelled forward, dragging Siret and Yael with me, Aros keeping pace with no effort. Emmy’s head snapped up as I reached her side, and I saw her swallow hard. “Is … Donald okay?” I asked, my voice hesitating over the name.

She nodded, blinking rapidly. “Fine. Donald is perfectly content and fine and in love with Sta … the gods.”

I was the one nodding and blinking now, up and down, my movements mechanical. “Wonderful. Donald is really making someone proud.” Not us, but someone.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her—at the face that was so familiar. Bodies pressed against me, sinking in on either side, with Aros stepping up behind me. They didn’t have to ask: they knew my pain as well as they knew me. They didn’t say a word, but when I tilted my head back to take them in, their expressions said a lot. There were flames burning in Yael’s eyes, like tiny pricks of green ember. Siret wore no smile, and for him that said everything. I couldn’t find much humour in the situation either, but I needed to continue pretending that everything was okay, otherwise I would break down completely. Just another sun-cycle in the life of Willa Knight.

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