Page 3 of Courting War
Havyn was right. This was sloppy.
The heat made Theo’s skin itch, but it was her inferno. It couldn’t consume her.
Out of the fire stepped Erety, the Mistress of Fate, her fearsome expression cutting at Theo’s composure. The blaze lit the god’s tawny skin and golden eyes. Eretoime Devi, the once human goddess, was considered a legendary beauty. Songs andsonnets were spun in her honor, and humans worshiped at her feet.
“Are you here to watch your work up close?” Erety’s voice was a hiss. “To witness these girls take their last smokey breath?”
“No,” Theo whispered, her eyes stinging. “No.” Her heart was unbearable now, its perfect rhythm interrupted. Her body was reacting in ways it hadn’t in hundreds of years.
Theo was a villain.
A god all humans feared.
But she had a code. She was justice, killing only those who deserved it and never killing innocent girls. Theo swallowed and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t let these girls die. Concentrating fiercely, War refracted each coffin, one by one, to safety on the shores of Ertomesia.
Time spilled like liquid wildfire, yet the task dripped like molasses. Every second represented a last breath. Every moment a fracture in the delicate balance of life. And Theo was moving far too slowly.
Finally, she finished the task and was surrounded by nine smoke-damaged coffins. Frantically, she tore off the lids and healed the girls. Some had burns, but all had smoke damage to their lungs.
The Death Goddesses watched silently, their wings billowing in the breeze.
When Theo reached the final coffin, her blood thickened as anxiety crept up her throat. There was no heartbeat. Theo tore off the top and stared at a pale, lifeless brunette girl. A girl who looked to be ten or eleven years old.
Dread swam in Theo’s core as she checked for the pulse she knew she wouldn’t find.
“No,” Theo breathed. “No, no, no . . ."
The girl was dead.
Theo blinked, and her vision shifted to God’s Sight—the ability to see the strings of life. All living things, from plants to reptiles, to aves, to mammals, had invisible—to the mortal eye—threads. Even the gods had them. The strings glowed a lilac purplecolor, with speckles of silver dewdrops interwoven, making them look like tears from the stars.
Humans had three fragile strings, while the gods had nine unbreakable ones—unable to be cut.
Unable to die.
A human’s strings were mortal, and when they died, they frayed at the center and crumbled. This girl’s many strings were fading quickly, and her translucent soul stood beside a comforting Erety. Theo’s heart hammered in her skull, and her breaths grew stilted, like fire burning through her esophagus.
War did this—she was responsible.
Regret and shame trickled into her blood. It was dishonorable. And honor was currency among the immortals. Honor was praised above all else.
Theo was the devil that everyone had always expected her to be. She was the monster, not Fire, not Death. But perhaps there was something she could do. The girl’s soul wasn’t yet in the underworld—not yet crossed the River Orcus—her body wasn’t cold enough to be uninhabitable. If Theo made the bargain with Havyn, this girl could still live.
“What do you want?” Theo pleaded, something entirely foreign to her. She’d only pleaded one other time in her life. Theo didn’t show weakness. “Havyn, what do you want for her soul?”
Havyn crossed her arms while her wife narrowed her golden eyes.
“You’d trade for her life?” Havyn asked.
“Yes,” Theo whispered, rolling her shoulders back, trying to regain her unbreakable calm. “What do you want? I have many things of value.”
Erety stepped forward, leaving a very confused ghost behind. “Are you willing to trade Fire’s ember whip for this human girl?”
Theo’s palms grew clammy as she peered down at the lifeless body and then back up at the Goddesses of Death. Was Theo willing to trade the whip? A whip that was so hard to steal?
Yes.
The world believed Theodra to be the villain amongst the gods. Her name feared and whispered—a word of nightmares.
