Page 72 of Courting War
“Then we will try to play as teams,” Cecile said, “but we will never get the other champions on board.”
Getting the champions to work with him was a nearly impossible task.
Kellyn placed his poker on the floor and glanced at the lovespoon between his fingers. It reminded him of his fury and his stupid belief that Theodra could be there for him. He’d had unwavering loyalty, but what did he have to show for it? The Goddess of War never showed up for her people. She’d forsaken them—forsaken him.
All the gods were vile creatures who gloried in torment.
Kellyn had watched all the mirror feeds of the other champion’s challenges, and in every single one, the gods played with the mortals’ minds like puppets on strings.
That’s all humans were to them. Puppets.
Entertainment.
Sources of power.
Kellyn was over it. He no longer believed there was any goodness in them. How could a being thousands of years old—who’d spent most of that time smiting humans—have any integrity left in them? He’d been so foolish. So unthinkingly loyal.
No longer.
Kellyn snapped the lovespoon.
“I want them all to suffer like they make us suffer,” he said. “I want to rob them of their power.”
“Make who suffer?” Morrigan asked, walking through the doorway, her eyes fixated on her wrist. She rubbed it as if in pain, and the invisible chain connecting them rippled in and out of existence.
Kellyn’s brow furrowed. Why did the chain seem to affect her more than him and at the most random times?He’d nearly forgotten about it. It was like she was bound to him in the games but not the other way around.
“Was I interrupting?” Morrigan asked, gazing between them, her ink-black hair shining damply and twisted into warrior braids atop her head. She’d bathed and changed, her skin tone slightly less pallid. She wore a Theodic styled dress with warrior leathers acting as a corset.
She looked like a midnight symphony—part magic enchantress, part inevitable impossibilities.
Although her beauty only managed to anger him more. She was healing, and Emmett wasn’t getting better—despite the antidote. Kellyn balled his fists around each half of the broken lovespoon and let out what might have been a growl.
The girls shared a look, standing in the doorway. Morrigan swayed, stepping slightly closer to the exit, responding to Cecile’s silent warning. “I wanted to speak with him alone.”
“Maybe you should come back later.”
“No, let her in; I’dloveto talk to her.” Kellyn lingered on the word love like it was a delicious toxin. He looked like a trapped beast ready to pounce on the person who had ensnared him. Kellyn rarely lost his restrained demeanor, but he was all masculine energy when he did. Seething and wanting release.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cecile said, glancing between them like they were dangerous predators.
Morrigan’s azure eyes landed on him, and she cocked her head, narrowing her eyebrows like a bird of prey. “I can handle him.”
Cecile threw up her arms. “Alright, try not to rip each other apart too much.” She turned and exited the room, closing the door behind her.
Morrigan held her head high and walked over to him at the fireplace. He sat on his ankles; the broken spoon cradled in his hands. She stood over him, her shadow covering his face. He looked like a warrior about to be felled by an evil demon king in a battle.
Morrigan could easily be a demon.
One thing was for sure: she wasn’t normal.
“Giving up on your god?” she asked. Her ability to perceive the truth was uncanny. She’d figured it out merely from seeing the spoon split in half between his fingers.
“Yes,” he seethed.
“Probably for the best.” The corner of her lips twitched up. “Theo is pretty rotten—especially to men.”
He growled his agreement. “As are you.”
