Page 62 of The Coven of Ruin
“Of course not,” Trista smiled at the war god. She was most certainly going to tell Zyana.
Stiffly moving to her usual spot, she opted to sit in one of the chairs instead of on the floor. Her leg muscles protested the small distance she lowered herself into the cushioned seat. She was certain she’d never be able to stand back up if she sat on the floor. For that matter, her body ached so much from training she worried she would never be able to move properly again.
Gathering the parchments with all her working translations, she resigned herself to going back through the possible variations she had come up with thus far in case she had missed anything. When she noticed a shadow blocking her light, she looked up to find Grae’s eyes fixed on her.
“I was wondering,” he started, sitting in the chair across from her, “if I could ask you something.”
Lowering the parchment to her lap, she nodded.
“Ares is dying. You treated his wound some weeks ago.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “When did he tell you?”
“The next morning. Not that I think he really wanted to, mind you. He would have probably taken it all the way to the void.”
That surprised her. Her lips parted as she thought back to the morning after his fever. He had seemed so set on not telling them that she had even called him a coward.
Grae’s smile faded, his brows drawn downward. “We saw your magic.” He tapped his fingers across his own chest. “And he said it couldn’t be healed, but I wanted to hear it from you.”
She imagined he was battling with himself. He did not want to betray his brother’s trust but also wanted answers that Ares was probably unwilling to supply. Running her tongue across her bottom lip, she considered her words carefully.
“It’s true. I couldn’t heal it that night.” Grae hung onto every word, leaning forward as she spoke. “It is unlike any dark magic I’ve witnessed and dealt with. What is killing Ares, at its core, is completely different. Noxa is a corruption of witch essence. As far as I know, we don’t have weapons forged from it either. Once it has taken hold physically, dark magic with a witch does not stop until it has consumed their essence and then their life. Though they can live for a long time, depending on how often they continue to cast it and what they are using it for. Darker the deed, the greater the toll. But thisisn’tNoxa, and he wasn’tusingdark magic. And well, he also isn’t a mage. I would need to do more research on it to know whether it could be reversed.”
“And would a witch truly savethe Witchbaneif given the opportunity?”
It didn’t occur to her that Grae might be asking specific questions outright while collecting information for other answers he wanted. She hadn’t thought twice before she acted when he had a fever. And that struck her as odd now.
Despite what she had told Ares the following day, she could have let him die right then and there. Justice for what he had done centuries before. It was what he would have done if he were in her place, and she had been the one to cause calamities for all of Olympus. Some even believed their curse would lift, their magic returning to its former glory, if the Witchbane was ever killed.
Leaning forward, she whispered, “I don’t know. Would The God of War truly save a witch if given the opportunity?”
”Hedidsave you then.“ Grae smirked, mumbling something that sounded like ‘gods damn bastard’ under his breath. “It was The Arena, wasn’t it? That’s how you knew about it.” His eyes glowed like two moons over gray oceans.
“Yes,” she confirmed. She wouldn’t offer any more information.
“I would have killed to see the look on the God King’s face for that move.” The god looked off distantly as if he could see Zeus’ outrage perfectly.
So it wasZeuswho he had tried to piss off by rescuing her. It made sense after everything she saw.
“A life debt then,” Grae finally said, nodding as if he understood.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t. You made an actual pact then, sealed with magic?”
Groaning at giving him so much information, she fell back against the chair. “Are you all like this? Always strategizing, scheming, and steps ahead?”
Grae grinned roguishly as he conjured a wood pick and placed it between his lips. “Just the most beautiful and elite war gods are.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
A thick book appeared on the table between them, the thud drawing her attention. It was wrapped in worn leather and tied together with tattered strips. “The weapons capable of doing this haven’t been seen since far before witchkind came along, so to find our answers, we have to look there. There isn’t much information recorded on it. I have a few more volumes I’m making my way through. You might be able to discern more coupled with the knowledge you already have, though. I refuse to accept that there’s no way to save him.”
As fiercely loyal as he might be, he also wanted Ares to survive. And, like any other threat, he took the dark magic that was killing his brother as a challenge.
If she was Ares, she would demand something in return for her time. Setting aside the parchment from her translations, she reached for the book. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, though. When she looked at Grae again, his head was tilted as if he was listening to something. Not a moment later, the door opened.
Grae stood up, sliding her a quick wink before he stepped around her chair.
