Page 55 of Courting War
Worse, Theo hadn’t kept a good record of the House of Azraelle. She had no idea if there were any descendants still alive. Not to mention, she wouldn’t have access to them. Destruction couldn’t read it either because she wasn’t a major—Pantheon god.
Theo loosed a string of cuss words.
“What?”
“I can’t read it.”
“Oh, that is a problem.” Destruction’s features lit up with mirth. She was loyal, but she also reveled in chaos. “Well, I must be going. So much discord to sow. Do let me know if you need anything else.”
Her form started to disintegrate into silver bubbles.
“Wait—” Theo grasped the goddess’s wrist. “If you can, watch after Cecile. Help her get through this alive.”
“I always watch after her.” Destruction’s voice was soft and bright as she completely disappeared, leaving soap bubbles in her wake.
Theo had one second of respite before the magic around her wrist—Love’s chain—tightened and pulled her like a magnetic force closer to her champion, forcing her legs to move.
But he wasn’t alone.
Two middle-aged humans boxed the boy in. One lady and one gentleman. Grey streaks laced their pristinely decorated hair, their clothing decadent and expensive. A human wouldn’t dare wear a crown in the City of the Gods, but it was clear from their posture, attire, and general demeanor these two were royalty.
His parents?
The Andromaden Priest had called him a prince.
“Everybody saw your disgrace,” the male said. “And it wasn’t even—” The last three words were hushed and indistinguishable to Theo’s ears, but the boy heard it and physically drew in like a turtle retreating into its shell. “You’re so pathetic.”
“Iwan,” the woman said, “not here. People can hear you—”
“At the very least, try to die with honor.” The Theoden king scoffed. “Can you do something that simple?”
The champion grunted, but he was cowering. Afraid.
The tall, disgustingly handsome, strong warriorcoweredin the presence of his parents.
It wasn’t right.
Theo really shouldn’t intervene. Sheshould’vewalked away. She didn’t owe this boy anything . . . but she hated seeing people mistreated—especially by their parents.
Grinding her teeth and scrunching her hands into fists, Theo marched over to them like a Lieutenant Commander on a battlefield. “Oh, there you are, Champ—” She cleared her throat. “Kellyn,” his name tasted like sour apples on her tongue, “I’ve been looking all over for you. We truly must be returning to our quarters . . . to strategize.”
Her words were stilted and utterly rang false, but it didn’t matter.
“Oh, look, it’s your equally useless priestess,” Kellyn’s father said.
She glowered at his parents with her fiercest Goddess of War glare. “I don’t like you.” Her words spewed like acid. “And most people I don’t like end up dead.”
Those felt like good words to let settle with the prince’swretched parents, so she hauled said prince away toward the Champion’s Quarters.
“Thank you for that,” Kellyn said, his confidence slowly returning.
“I have a shitty parent, too,” Theo said. “Honestly, my sisters can be quite horrible as well.”
He laughed. “I understand that. I have a spoiled younger brother.” He grunted and shifted on his feet as if he were unsure what to say next, settling on, “Are you okay?”
Theo flinched. She wasn’t expecting that question. “Why?”
“Death . . .”
