Page 54 of Children of Fallen Gods

“Would it be more respectful for me to leave them in the dirt?” Siobhan replied. Ashraia scoffed.

Ishqa’s stare hardened, an ever-so-slight rearranging of his features. I followed his gaze… to the dead birds in Siobhan’s hands.

“We do not kill birds,” he said, coldly. “Let alone eat them.”

Reluctantly, I had to admit that made sense.

“I would have been willing to eatrodentsout of… respect for the Wyshraj ways. But I’d prefer to be told this ahead of time, rather than swung at without notice.” She glared at Ashraia. “It’s rare that creatures that attack me from behind walk away alive.”

My eyebrows lurched. “Attack?”

Siobhan approached, and as she ventured closer to the firelight I saw it: a bloody streak over her shoulder.

My attempt at calm diplomacy drowned beneath a wave of rage.

My blade was in my hand before I could think. Two steps, and my body was pressed against Ashraia’s hulking form, blade to the underside of his chin. “Do noteverraise a hand against her,” I snarled, my incisors already sharpening.

The threat had barely left my lips when I felt the warmth of another behind me — and cold steel against my throat.

“And I ask the same of you.”

Ishqa’s voice was close enough to rustle my hair. Smooth and quiet, but as cold as the steel pressed against my skin.

Two breathless seconds passed, with all those weapons ready to strike. And then, everyone let them fall at once. We all watched each other warily, a dare to make the first move. My eyes were locked on Ishqa’s. The fire roared up between us, heat rippling the still panes of his face.

I felt the weight of the responsibility my father had placed upon me more acutely than ever. In this role, I was Ishqa’s equal. I had been allowing him to lead. No longer. The Wyshraj had been our enemy for a millennia before this, and they would be our enemy again the second this strange blip in time was over.

I could not afford to forget that.

I refused to be the first to speak. Ishqa seemed to have made the same vow. We stared each other down, waging a silent battle for control.

Caduan’s voice finally sliced through the silence.

“You are all,” he stated, plainly, “acting like children.”

The sheer force of his annoyance was enough to crack the tension.

Ishqa turned to Siobhan. “Ashraia should not have raised his blade against you. I apologize on his behalf.”

“I’d prefer that he apologize on his own behalf,” Siobhan said.

Ashraia was silent, a wrinkle over his nose, and it was only after Ishqa gave him a prodding look that he loosened a frustrated grunt. “In the future, I will hold my blade,” he said gruffly, “though not my words, I warn you.”

“Nor will I,” Siobhan replied, “so I can’t argue with that.”

Ishqa turned a gaze to me, then to the quail at my feet. I knew exactly what he wanted me to say. What the polite and chivalrous thing to do would be. But I’d never been good at being polite and chivalrous. Now, my notorious, damned stubbornness clamped my lips shut.

“Fine,” I finally spat. “Out of respect for yourways, we will not eat the quail tonight. And we will refrain from hunting birds in the future.”

It was not difficult to hear my irritation. Ishqa cocked his head, and maybe it was my imagination or the warping smoke of the fire, but I could have sworn I saw a spark of amusement in his stare.

“Thank you, Aefe,” he said.

“Thank you, Ishqa,” I replied, reluctantly.

“Thank you, gods,” Caduan muttered, with a sincerity that made me snort a sudden, unexpected chuckle.

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