Page 39 of Gods of Prey
“The truth. Or part of it.” I pour myself coffee I don’t need. Divine beings don’t require caffeine sustenance, but I’ve found I enjoy the warmth and ritual of it. “That we were old friends. That I moved to Seattle recently and was surprised to learn during the gala that you had died.”
Sienna makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “And he believed that?”
“Of course not.” I take a sip, watching her over the rim of my mug. “But Jovie did.”
At the mention of Jovie, something shifts in Sienna’s demeanor. It’s subtle—a slight change in the density of her form, as if she’s trying to appear more solid. More present. It’s been happening more frequently when Jovie is mentioned.
“She’s coming by today,” I continue, testing my theory. “Said she wants to talk about you.”
Her eyes widen. “Bash is okay with that?”
I shrug. “I didn’t ask.”
As expected, Sienna drifts closer, her interest piqued. “What exactly does she want to know?”
“Everything. How we met. What you were like before.” I set down my mug. I’m enjoying the idea of holding her full attention too much. “She misses you.”
Pain flashes across Sienna’s face before she can mask it. “She barely knew me.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask, watching her carefully. There’s something she’s still not telling me about her relationship with this woman. It nags at every conversation we have. “Because she seems to think otherwise.”
Sienna turns away, floating back toward the window. “Humans form attachments quickly.”
“So do gods, apparently,” I scoff quietly, following her. “Sebastian certainly did.”
“That’s different,” she murmurs into her chest.
“Is it?” I’m standing directly behind her now. If she were corporeal, we’d be almost touching. “Because I’m starting to think there’s more to this story than you’ve shared with me.”
She turns abruptly, her form passing partially through my chest. I feel a cold, tingling sensation where we overlap that sends shockwaves into areas I don’t want to acknowledge. “What exactly are you implying?”
I hold her gaze, unflinching. “I’m not implying anything. I’m stating, once again, that you’re hiding something about your connection to Jovie. And possibly about Sebastian.”
Her eyes flash with divine power stronger than anything I could dream of. It’s the only part of her that feels truly solid in this form. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”
“And you’re undermining our mission,” I counter, feeling the wedge that always sat between us settle back in. This is better for us. More comfortable. “We’re supposed to be working together to bring Sebastian back fairly. To restore the balance. That’s what we agreed on. That’s where we drew our temporary truce. But I can’t help feeling you have divided loyalties.”
Sienna drifts through me completely, a power move she knows discomforts me. The cold sensation of death washing through my life energy is jarring.
“My loyalty is to cosmic balance,” she says stoically, her voice echoing slightly. “Always has been.”
“Is that why you agreed to help Sebastian hide from the Divine Council? Why you didn’t report him immediately?”
She whirls on me. “Here we go again. I came when you asked for help, didn’t I?”
“After how long?” I press, knowing the answer. I’ve watched them long enough to know when she’s lying. “At what point did you realize there was a problem?”
Her silence is telling.Far too long.
First, it was obvious in what Jovie said at the gala, about seeing her at the wedding. Now, it’s even more obvious.
“That’s what I thought.” I move to the couch and sit, suddenly weary. Playing mortal is exhausting. “You’re protecting him. You always have. And if we’re working together, I can’t keep stumbling into your land mines.”
“He’s my brother,” she says simply, as if that explains everything. Perhaps it does.
“And what about Aurelys? What about the mortals suffering as the balance shifts?” I run a hand through my hair. “What about Umbraeth? Erebus is struggling to maintain order there without you. We can’t negotiate your punishment if we can’t get him to return.”
Sienna’s form flickers slightly. “I told you, don’t lecture me about duty, Revel. I’ve spent centuries paying for our mistakes. I understand the cost better than you ever will.”
