A Curse of Crows

by Lauren Dedroog

Genres: Fantasy; Epic Fantasy; LGBT Lesbian

Synopsis

Diana speaks. Gods answer.
Aedlynn strikes. Enemies fall.

In the realm where gods dance with mortals, Diana's prayers wield unimaginable power. But when a deadly sickness threatens to consume her, she strikes a desperate bargain with an unlikely ally, invoking a journey of vengeance and deceit.

Aedlynn is a lethal weapon forged in darkness. She feels no pity, no guilt . . . no love. So when a beautiful spy finds a hidden way into Aedlynn's heart, even the gods won't stand in her way.

As Fate weaves its intricate tapestry, betrayal and revelation collide, plunging them all into a maelstrom of passion and peril, and a battle for power will threaten to consume them all.

Because there's a fine line between love and hate . . .

And a woman's heart is a dangerous thing.

Release date: September 19, 2024

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 496

Sample

Aspia, the Royal House of Odalis

1762, 22 years after the War of Ichor

After six years, Aedlynn Eidothéan had grown accustomed to the wariness and vigilance of her masters. She’d also grown accustomed to the tormented screams of her victims and the eerie silence with which they fell. Some were to face a quick death, others had to be dragged out for amusement. She did so without hesitation or mercy. Once, she’d possessed such noble values, but there was no room for morality in the existence she’d been thrown into. That realisation had only helped her reach the top of her profession, as had the merciless training she’d started at only sixteen years old.

Lorcán had found her as a newborn during a hunting trip, abandoned in a forest in Peridan. He’d been captivated by the strangeness of her eyes; the left one a warm amber colour, the right one sky blue and broken up with hints of gold. The King had taken her into his household, where his servants had raised her to become a fine lady until she’d reached her sixteenth year. As repayment for the care he’d provided, she was to be useful to him, so he’d released her into the care of Aviod Nérdulet – Aspia’s most renowned assassin. Though her childishness once tried to stop her, she’d soon learned that she was exceptionally good at what she did. Her skills with weaponry were supernatural, bordering on divine, with many rumours rising that perhaps the girl with the strange eyes was a halfgod.

No mortal could summon weapons out of thin air.

Top of the Academy and quicker than her masters, she’d grown used to the glares that followed her from within the shadows, the accusations that were meant to tarnish her reputation and other assassins who tried to sabotage her or made attempts on her life. She’d cleaned up a fair amount of them before any of those silly rumours could reach her beloved king.

The only thing she hadn’t been able to fully control was the raw magic that simmered beneath her tan skin. Only last week had she set up two men in the corridors. A short fight had ended with one of them dead. Then last night, she’d taken care of two girls she’d shared a bedroom with who’d tried to poison her. Aedlynn had taken her time with them, and only when she’d been satisfied with her work, had she allowed the masters to find her. Covered in their blood, wearing the most radiant smile while they’d chained her.

She’d laughed at them, knowing damn well that the shackles would be useless if she truly wanted to escape – unless they were dipped in moonsbane. Only that sacrilegious poison could counter divine power and magic. It was even strong enough to incapacitate a god. But Aedlynn had a plan and the masters that now dragged her along to face her judgement had no idea that that very goal awaited her on the other side of the grand oak doors.

The hallway seemed to stretch for miles as Aedlynn was guided down the burgundy carpet and led to the throne room. To her left and right, masterfully created paintings of the Andulet bloodline decorated the black walls. Aleksander Andulet – Lorcán’s grandfather, his wife Meryn and their three children. Rumour had it that Meryn, a halfgod, killed two of them when she’d lost herself to her divine power before Eiran – the Divine King – killed her.

She admired them – their typical violet gaze, black hair and sharp features that rivalled those of the forsaken gods – even though her heart thundered in her chest. If he wasn’t behind those doors, her fate could take a turn for the worst.

Fate already hated her – a lot. And the feeling was very mutual.

Aedlynn glanced at the two assassins who flanked her. They paid no attention to her, though she saw Tertius’ jaw clench and noticed how Caleb’s hand kept stroking the woven hilt of the longsword at his side. They were alert enough, she knew.

Aviod walked behind her. His blue eyes burned in the back of her head as if her master was straining to find her plans. He moved to walk in front of the company, leading the way to the double doors to the throne room, decorated with magnolias and jasmine. Between the many flowers lay the Andulet crest, two slithering serpents devouring a full moon. An ancient family that had tried to destroy the gods when they’d turned against Meryn.

Aviod pushed the doors open, proceeding them further into the room, and for the first time in a year, Aedlynn stood face to face with the king who’d been her saviour. Her breathing became uneven when her eyes fell on the dangerous male who sat proudly on his black throne. Like the rest of his family, he was blessed with violet eyes. A golden crown adorned his long sleek raven hair.

Physically, the king still appeared to be around twenty-six years old, though he’d been born forty-seven years ago. He’d received a blessing from the Night Goddess, Antheia, that had rendered him immortal, even after the goddess had been slain at the end of the War.

His gaze didn’t leave hers as she was ushered before him.

Aviod turned to order her to pay the king respect but didn’t have to; Aedlynn had already dipped her head low. She knew of his divine might and dark power. She’d witnessed it herself plenty of times. Though she’d been taught to bow to nobles, she didn’t respect them. They were weak, easily taken out of this life and thrown into the next. Yet her king was powerful, a god himself. He couldn’t be taken so easily from this life. It was he who took.

His gaze swept over the iron bands around her wrists, the chains that were supposed to hold her, the three well-trained assassins that surrounded her. He knew his guards had their eyes on the woman, that they noticed her every breath, any small movement those wonderful eyes made while she appeared to casually study the room.

She smiled at him, a lovely smile that had sent many to an early grave. ‘Your Highness, it has been a while.’ Her voice was smooth and soft as velvet.

The assassin on her left curled his scarred fingers around the hilt of his sword. In a room with their king, no one was supposed to speak before Lorcán did. She’d been taught those principles, yet Aedlynn had always thought etiquette to be rather stiff and boring – and utterly useless. In a battle between life and death, silly titles and table manners wouldn’t save one’s life.

‘It’s good to see you again, little viper,’ the king spoke with a sensual voice.

Her smile became even more charming as she held up her shackles to him, rattling the chains. ‘Do you like my bracelets?’

His lips curled in response. She cared nothing about the lives she’d taken and the lives she’d continue to take. He’d heard much about her skills, witnessed them himself when he’d sent her on assignments under the guise of other nobles. ‘I do not,’ Lorcán said, nodding once to Aviod. ‘Remove them.’

‘Your Highness—’

Lorcán held up a hand to silence him. ‘My viper won’t harm me, Aviod.’

Hesitantly, the assassin unlocked the clasps of the wristbands and removed them. Aedlynn wrinkled her nose at Aviod and rubbed her nimble fingers over the tender spots on her wrists. She studied her nails. Though Aviod had ordered some servants to quickly clean her up to be presentable to their king, dried blood still stained them.

Lorcán leaned back. ‘I understand that you killed two apprentices last night, is that correct?’ Aedlynn nodded once. ‘Apparently, there wasn’t much left of them.’

Her smile didn’t reach the frigid look in her eyes. ‘There was plenty left, just not much attached.’

Aviod muttered a curse under his breath. He’d once seen much potential in the girl, potential that had been long fulfilled, but he feared he’d created a monster. Underneath that flawless skin crawled a ruthless and feral beast that devoured and destroyed, one that could smile with the light of a thousand suns while her eyes remained devoid of any emotion.

‘Explain to me why you did it,’ the king said.

Aedlynn tilted her head. ‘They tried to poison me and I’m bored of others plotting my death. I have been testing my food and drinks for poison for three years now. I barely sleep, as plenty have tried to kill me during the night. The stupid rumours, the accusations.’ Her hard gaze swept from one assassin to the other, until they rested back on her king. ‘It was a message.’

Aviod raised a brow. ‘Well, you can sleep in peace from the safety of a prison cell from now on.’

She smiled at her master, sweet as sugar. ‘I will not wither in a prison cell.’

‘You killed two innocents.’

Aedlynn laughed humourlessly. ‘I’ve killed countless innocents. The only difference with last night was that I received no payment.’

Aviod stared at the king. He couldn’t fathom how the king appeared so … casual around her. She reeked of death, carried the sentence at her fingertips to bestow it upon anyone she deemed worthy. Her blades hid somewhere only the forsaken gods might see them and judging by how deeply the whole of Aspia had disrespected the gods, he very much doubted they would stop her from ruining them all.

Aedlynn turned her attention to Lorcán. ‘My skills are too great to waste them on silly mercenary gigs,’ she said plainly. ‘You are an immortal king, one on bad terms with the other countries and the divine forces of this realm. I doubt your guards were trained to face off divinities, nor that they have what it takes to send them back to the Æther.’

Lorcán nodded once, his only signal for her to go on. She stepped closer to him, ignoring how the other three assassins took hold of their swords. ‘Either you throw me into a dungeon – but it won’t hold me for long – or you hire me to properly serve you.’

Lorcán’s full lips curled into a cold grin.

Yes, he decided. She was ready – his first weapon. He would hone this blade until it shone silver underneath the ichor of the gods. Until it carried the spilt blood of Eiran and he’d have an open field to defeat him.

Lorcán leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at the woman in front of him. He was close now. He could nearly taste the sweetness of the ichor on his tongue. One weapon was ready for use. Now he just had to wait until Diana fell for his schemes as well.

Aedlynn came close to regretting her decision to join Lorcán’s Cadre when the servant opened the heavy wooden door to reveal that once again, she was to share a bedroom. Even more so when the pretty girl looked up from her neatly made bed in surprise. Something tugged at Aedlynn’s heart, though she kept staring her down with an intensity that made the servant next to her nervous.

Surprisingly, the girl didn’t flinch away. Instead, she gracefully stood from the bed. The maroon dress she wore draped over her curves, nicely complementing the different brown shades of her hair, though the deep neckline and high slits left little to the imagination.

Her full, red-painted lips parted into a sweet smile. ‘You must be new,’ she said while extending a graceful hand. Aedlynn glanced at it before returning the cold look to the girl’s face.

She raised a dark brow at Aedlynn while lowering her hand. Her almond eyes were a lovely light brown, nearly honey golden when the rays of warm daylight fell on her face through the large windows to their left.

The servant kept glancing back and forth between them like she expected them to start slitting each other’s throats. Unfortunately for Aedlynn, she doubted Lorcán would appreciate it. She wondered why this girl was here and how she served him, as this wing was reserved for Lorcán’s inner circle.

She appeared to be around the same age as Aedlynn – twenty-two, but judging by the showy dress … she was probably nothing but eye candy for the men who walked around here. Someone to keep them happy and satisfied, to help them relax after a long day of dutifully serving their king. Aedlynn doubted the girl had much of a spine. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about being killed in her sleep.

‘I’m Kaelena Athelon.’

Aedlynn gave her a curt nod, then further ignored her while she lowered her bags onto her assigned bed. Kaelena seemed to enjoy decorating the room, as she’d planted colourful vases with wildflowers in any corner she could find. Little trinkets and pieces of silver jewellery lay scattered on the shelves of a dark wooden bookcase, on the mantle of the lit fireplace to their right and on a desk. There was also a pile of well-loved books and a bunch of gemstones Aedlynn recognised as moonstones.

Behind her, Kaelena politely dismissed the servant and closed the door behind them. ‘First rule of being my roommate,’ Kaelena started, ‘be nice to the servants.’

Aedlynn turned to look at Kaelena, who scowled at her with an intensity that almost made Aedlynn like her. ‘I said nothing wrong.’

Kaelena snorted. ‘You said nothing at all, poor thing was terrified of you.’

She shrugged.

The girl cocked her head and crossed her arms. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?’

‘Aedlynn,’ she said flatly. ‘Eidothéan.’

Those pretty brown eyes widened for the smallest moment. ‘You’re Aviod’s protégée?’

Aedlynn wasn’t surprised that the girl knew him. Given the fact that the assassin personally served Lorcán, she figured that Kaelena had warmed his bed plenty of times already. ‘Yes.’

Kaelena leaned against the desk. ‘You’ve quite the reputation.’

Aedlynn was beginning to tire of Kaelena’s attempts at socialising. She’d already been tolerable to the rest of the Cadre when she’d been introduced to them by Lorcán. Her little jar of pretend-to-care was quickly running out. Besides, she was much better off on her own, without pretty girls faking interest in being her friend – only to stab her in the back. ‘Doesn’t explain why you’re still wasting my time.’

Kaelena scoffed. ‘Shove the god complex up your ass.’ Something hardened in her eyes, an edge that warned Aedlynn not to push too far. It was also one of the first times in many, many years that someone dared talk back to her, which she found quite thrilling. Even Aviod had grown wary.

Kaelena sighed and remained quiet while Aedlynn unpacked, minding her own business. Aedlynn had just decided that she could bear being inside this room as long as her roommate remained quiet, when Kaelena tempted fate again. ‘Are you always this pleasant or are you just secretly very shy?’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Aedlynn muttered. ‘Mind your own business.’

Kaelena smiled at her. A mischievous smile, laced with sweet venom. ‘Aspia’s famous killer, just a shy little thing with sharp knives.’

Aedlynn nearly growled at her. ‘Keep talking and I’ll show you just how sharp those knives are when I cut out your tongue.’

Kaelena grinned. ‘I think I hit a nerve.’

Aedlynn gritted her teeth, but Kaelena noticed her vexation and decided to let it go, lying back on her bed to read something. It took a while before her jaw relaxed again as she continued unpacking.

Perhaps she was a little shy. Maybe even somewhat self-conscious. Killing came to her easily enough, conversing not so.

She’d just finished hanging her casual clothes and dresses when Kaelena spoke again. ‘That light blue one is really pretty.’

Aedlynn glanced at her, sensing the white flag the girl was waving. ‘Thank you.’

Kaelena smiled at her. ‘Gift from Lorcán?’

Aedlynn blinked. ‘Ehm … Yes.’

Kaelena nodded her head towards the wardrobe. ‘That silk was crafted in Averly, I have a dress of the same fabric. It’s entirely lovely. For a man, Lorcán has surprisingly good taste in dresses. He’s never given me one I don’t like.’

Of course she received dresses from him, given her … occupation.

Kaelena wrinkled her nose. ‘He seems to know I much prefer colourful dresses to bleak ones like Isolde wears. I often wonder if the queen even knows that colours exist, as she only ever wears black or grey or white.’

Was she … going to keep talking?

‘Perhaps she has some strange phobia of colourful things. I hear that her wedding bouquet consisted solely of black roses and lilies. One might think she’s not shallow enough to care about her appearance, but the amount of jewellery she wears … by the Mother, I do not envy her poor neck and shoulders. Horrible taste that woman has and the way she flaunts her wealth to all those around her – simply disgusting,’ she exclaimed, throwing her hands up before letting them fall back on her lap.

Despite herself, Aedlynn smiled slightly. Seeing Kaelena like this tugged at something in her that was still human. Something warm and fuzzy.

‘Like, there are poor families out there. Starving and struggling and then there’s the she-daemon with her jewellery that weighs as much as a small child. But the only thing she cares about is my relationship with Lorcán.’ Kaelena rolled her eyes and deeply sighed, focusing her attention back on Aedlynn, who couldn’t help but be impressed. She doubted Kaelena had paused to catch her breath in between sentences. ‘Sorry, got a little carried away.’

Aedlynn chuckled, running a light hand over the soft fabric of the dresses. ‘Can’t really blame her for not liking her husband’s courtesan.’

Kaelena frowned, then sat up straighter. ‘I’m not his courtesan.’

Was she truly not? Or was she just some foolish girl who believed that just because Lorcán bought her dresses and maybe promised her the world, that she was somehow different than the many whores he’d gone through before her? ‘Then why are you here?’

Kaelena scrambled up from her bed, smoothing out the chiffon before she straightened her spine. Forsaken gods, Aedlynn had to admit the girl was utterly gorgeous. With a grace that left Aedlynn breathless, Kaelena walked over and leaned against the wardrobe.

‘I grew up in Méraud, under the care of Madame Valendair after I was orphaned near the end of the War, and when I came of age, she had me trained as a courtesan. But when I was about nineteen, I ehm …’ Her cheeks flushed and mischief sparkled in those pretty brown eyes. ‘I started showing some skills with breaking and entering. I was pretty good at sneaking around unnoticed, heard a lot of things – information people hoped to keep hidden in the darkness of the night hours. And then I overheard some lords planning to assassinate Lorcán the night after. So, I stole a horse and made for Odalis, slipped in without any of the guards noticing and then just kind of … showed up in his throne room with the message that those lords were planning on poisoning him.’

Aedlynn stared at her in disbelief. She was pretty good at sneaking around but no one managed to sneak into Lorcán’s throne room without being apprehended. No one was that good.

Kaelena smiled. ‘You should’ve seen Lorcán’s face. He wasn’t even angry, wholly impressed that a nineteen-year-old girl slipped through his every defence; skipping along his halls in a pretty dress. Those lords were apprehended, questioned and admitted their plans. Lorcán then bought me from Valendair, offered me a home here and a job.’

‘I take it that job has a lot to do with you sneaking around unnoticed?’

‘I’m his spy, but Isolde and many other nobles do believe that I’m his favourite courtesan, only his Cadre knows the truth. We keep it as a ruse so others don’t hesitate to talk around me – a pretty thing to decorate his lap with.’ Kaelena whistled. ‘Isolde can be fucking vicious, though. Lorcán once threw a masterful insult her way to silence her and I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. She then said something along the lines of ‘I’m not the one trained like a racehorse to be ridden for enjoyment’ – still stings. She followed up with that, unlike me, she didn’t need Lorcán’s cock to decide whether she was useful or not.’ Kaelena sighed, then her lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk while she crossed her arms. ‘I then sweetly informed her that as long as she couldn’t bear him an heir, she was disposable as well. That seemed to silence her just fine.’

Perhaps Aedlynn wouldn’t sleep so soundly tonight after all. ‘You’re awfully talkative for a spy. Do you always ramble this much?’

Kaelena raised an amused brow. ‘Only when I’m the one carrying the conversation.’

Aedlynn frowned. ‘How the fuck am I supposed to say anything when you make as much noise as a small army?’

Kaelena wrinkled her nose, which made her look fairly adorable in Aedlynn’s humble opinion. ‘Secret? I was never good at those games adults make you play to get you to shut up.’ Kaelena grinned. ‘I think my record was a minute.’

Aedlynn chuckled.

‘Sorry for getting under your skin,’ Kaelena said.

Aedlynn glanced up at her, now realising she was slightly taller. ‘It’s fine.’

Kaelena stuck up her pinkie. ‘Promise that you won’t kill me in my sleep?’

She gave Kaelena a small smile.

Kaelena wiggled her pinkie.

Aedlynn’s smile grew as she hooked her pinkie around the spy’s. ‘Fine, I won’t kill you in your sleep.’

‘Good.’ Kaelena let go of her and walked towards the door. Before she left the room, she shot Aedlynn a sly smile. ‘I’ll let you know if I’ll promise you the same thing.’

Katrones, the High Court of Orthalla

1766, 26 years after the War of Ichor

Present day

I stared at the wall from the comfort of the cognac leather chaise with an intensity that could’ve burned a hole in the intricate light wallpaper that decorated our private living chambers. I’d grown endlessly bored, cooped up inside Zale’s castle while incessant heat raged over the southern hemisphere. The heat and humidity didn’t bother me for the same reason that it bothered others; my breathing and activity weren’t affected by it. Even now, I still slept with my many, many covers; cosily tucked in and rolled up in them. I also still woke in the middle of the night, freezing and gasping for air whenever my nightmares returned and bled into the surrounding darkness. Even the ever-present headaches weren’t worsened by the weather.

But I had grown so utterly bored and restless, and dying to just do anything.

Everyone stayed inside the castle as much as they could and kept the doors shut for as long as possible. The billowy curtains were drawn to keep the heat out and the servants had even boarded up some of the bigger windows and stuffed any crevices they could find. They treated the sun like it would come and visit on horseback, scanning the building for any opening it could use to infiltrate and suffocate us with its unforgiving warmth.

It reminded me of those myths about Keres, the God of Malice. There were enough stories about him visiting mortal villages like a servant of Death, cursing them with plagues and calamities while they hid inside their houses and prayed to other gods to save them from his wrath. I doubted the deities dared to question his judgement.

I felt like a trapped animal in here, surrounded by servants and highborn who said nothing to me unless absolutely necessary. I would spar with my guardian, Zale, but given the insane temperatures and the fact that any sane person did mind the heat, I couldn’t exactly ask him to train my magic with me. Besides that, Zale had been pretty busy as High Lord of Orthalla and Egoron. I could visit Sorin in Clacaster, but my godfather was rather occupied as well with ruling his country and some family drama he was dealing with, so I didn’t want to bother him.

Yet the longer I went without losing this pent-up energy, the more agitated I became. My nightmares worsened, my visions of him became more frequent and intense – even during the day. And as always, any strong emotions made me sick to my stomach. I hadn’t shared that fun information with Zale yet. He’d send me straight to a physician for another sleeping draught or healing potion, but those only worsened things. They made me more vulnerable and susceptible to whatever connection I still shared with Lorcán.

No one knew why Lorcán had wanted me. How he’d found me as a baby, then studied and experimented on me until Sorin had intercepted a spy infiltrating Clacaster, and he and Zale had saved me from his clutches. It was strange to know he’d done that, to see it happening in my nightmares. Because I bore no scars – thanks to the king, at least. The only scars on my back were those of an … incident with Lord Rhosyn. Punishment for killing his son, Kallias.

One skill Lorcán excelled at was kalotra – bloodmagic, one of the darkest kinds of magic known to mortals, used to exploit and control another person. It’d been taught to him by Aeneas Losaño, who’d been his mentor at Vadones. Lorcán had taken his time with me. He’d marked me, claimed me, carved his name into my very soul. Even now, I often woke with his name on my lips and whenever I was alone, I heard him whisper the name he had given me.

Needless to say, Orthalla wasn’t exactly fond of me. Aspia was a feared country and Lorcán was the main character in most horror stories. Parents had scolded their children for playing with me, scolded me for coming near their children. They’d warned me to stay away from them or to return to my master since they all believed Lorcán still owned and controlled me. And though I was technically Zale’s heir and thus had official duties similar to a Princess, I carried little weight or influence here at Court.

Apparently being experimented on as a child by an immortal king was somehow my fault.

Sitting cross-legged on the chaise in our living quarters, I kept wiggling and tapping my foot. And in an attempt to distract myself, I viewed the paintings I’d made, which Zale had proudly hung up on the walls. Though I kept a whole bunch of them hidden away in my bedroom and study, I hadn’t looked at them in years.

I tried to focus on those paintings, the serene images of vineyards and beaches, to calm down, but it was no good. My heart raged in my throat, I couldn’t keep my legs still and I’d been subconsciously tapping my fingers on my arms while I’d been staring at the painting of a lake.

I still felt like my soul was vibrating in my bones.

‘You look … intense.’

My head whipped towards the sound of Zale’s voice, to see his dark brows furrowed with worry. The casual linen shirt he wore today really contrasted his olive skin. It had tanned even more since the beginning of summer, yet my skin remained devoid of any colour, save for the dark circles that decorated my grey eyes.

‘Yeah,’ I breathed, still tapping my foot.

Zale sat down on the chaise next to me, resting his elbows on his knees while he studied me. A slight grin appeared, lighting up his dark eyes. ‘You’re bored to death, aren’t you?’

I groaned and rested the back of my head against the chaise. ‘I honestly believe not even Dýs himself can be this bored.’

‘Have you tried painting?’

With my head still leaning back, I raised a brow at him. ‘My attention span hasn’t been too great.’

‘Small paintings then?’

‘I want to punch the sun,’ I muttered with closed eyes, more to myself than to Zale.

He laughed softly. ‘I doubt Zhella will appreciate that.’

I didn’t quite care whether the Sun Goddess would take offence. If anything, I wanted to drag Zhella out of Aerelia and scold her, wag my finger at her and tell her that burning mortals isn’t very nice.

‘You could go take a swim, the pool’s been refilled after last night’s downpour,’ he offered.

I pursed my lips and fondled a loose thread of my short pastel blue linen dress. I’d already tried that. The scars on my back were very noticeable and the stares from the nobles hadn’t been subtle. ‘Doesn’t help.’

Zale nodded once, noting the sad look and immediately putting two and two together. He often knew me better than I knew myself. His last name had been mine from the moment he’d taken me over from Sorin and adopted me, and the soft hand that had held mine ever since had been my rock in any wild current.

‘I just …’ I murmured, still fidgeting with my dress. ‘I feel like I’m losing my mind.’ Especially since my nightmares and sleepwalking had been growing worse these past weeks. I smiled sheepishly. ‘Maybe I should just pray to Lord Keres for entertainment, I’m sure he’d love a fight.’

Zale quickly shook his head. ‘Absolutely not, you don’t pray to Keres.’

‘I know.’ Especially not after nightfall, that’d been drilled into me.

To this day, Zale had no idea that I often offered to Keres to show my gratitude. I took respecting the gods earnestly, even the vilest of them. Keres had a reputation for loathing and tricking mortals. He made deals that always ended up devastating the receiver of his service. Enough to humble them, to remind other mortals to leave him the Hell alone or he’d show them his wrath. But when I’d begged him for help three years ago, he’d aided me without binding me to a bargain with him.

I’d only ever seen one god in person and it’d been him, though I didn’t remember much about him. I’d been a little too preoccupied with the body of my dead fiancé and the fact that a fucking god stood in front of me. There was a difference between worshipping a god from afar and seeing them in person, to feel their raw power vibrate in the air. The pulse of it echoing in my bones. To know it was Keres standing in front of me, a wicked god who could’ve very well condoned or encour