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“I knew he hadn’t told you everything. Did he mention the part where my brothers and I are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
She swallows hard, and her eyes go wide. “He might have left that part out.” Then she shakes her head and laughs a little. “Horsemen of the Apocalypse? I mean, are you even being serious right now?”
I look her in the eye. “Deadly. Remus and I are War. My eldest brother Abaddon is Pestilence, Kharon is Death, and the youngest, Layden, is Famine.”
She just blinks. “But, but,” she sputters, “I thought—” She waves a hand uselessly in the air, obviously confused. “Doesn’t Abaddon have a wife and a baby? And isn’t Kharon’s, Death, according to you, wife or consort or whatever pregnant?”
“Yes,” I say shortly, not wanting her to miss my point. “Like I said, we retired. And it was different for them. They were just trying to be good sons to our father. Obediently following his orders because they didn’t realize there was another way. They were just roles we played, not who we were. Except for Remus.”
She scoffs at this. “Are you kidding? You can’t have it both ways. He told me you’re all thousands of years old. Are you really going to blame everything you did on your dad? I’m pretty sure you’re considered a grown man after the first hundred years, let alone, thousand.”
I breathe out hard. No one has challenged me so equally in. . . well, a long time. “It’s true, what you say. It’s just a story we’ve told ourselves over the years. But you’re right. We had full responsibility for everything we did. We simply considered human life to be. . .” I breathe out again. “Of little consequence.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. You just said that out loud.”
I stand up straighter. “Unlike Remus, I will never lie to you about who I am. We thought ourselves gods. Humans were merely the fodder in our father’s games to gain power. He manipulated human leaders like pieces in a chess game and cared nothing at all for the pieces knocked off the board, especially pawns. His only concern was for gaining advantage and winning.”
“And Remus?” she asks. “What did he care about?”
“Nothing! He cared for nothing at all. He just delighted in chaos. He was a constant thorn in our father’s side because he didn’t care about winning or losing. He just wanted war, discord, and madness.”
She crosses her flour-dusted arms over her chest. “And you? What did you care about?”
I want to disseminate. But I’ve just promised not to lie to her. Besides, it’s not like I should want her to think well of me. The sooner we drive her away from here, the better.
So I look her straight in the eye as I tell her the truth. “I, too, am War. As much as I might hate my twin at times, I can’t deny we’re two sides of the same coin. He can stir the chaos and mad bloodlust of war, but I brought the order and genius tactical planning that allowed for true, effective, and total destruction.”
I put my hands on the counter and lean in so she really hears me. “Remus and I have decimated everything we ever touched, and my brothers knew it. Far more than even my brother Death, who is kind-hearted and gave peace to those in the worst suffering imaginable, Remus and I were the most destructive Horseman to your world. And I believe with my whole being that we should still be chained to the dungeon wall downstairs. Because I fear Remus will tear a hole through the heart of this realm with his rage and selfishness if he continues to remain free.”
Chapter Fourteen
LAUREN
Okay, so that’s a little intense. Nothing like hearing that the man of your dreams whom you’ve had the most amazing connection with is. . . well, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
My forehead feels hot with the overwhelm of information and for lack of anything better to do, I grab the dough and put it back in the bowl to rise. I turn away from Romulus to search for a towel to lay over the top of the bowl. I see one on a rack by the wall and am glad for the breathing space while I walk over and snatch it up.
“So, are you ready for me to take you home now?” Romulus asks.
The breath I hadn’t realized I had trapped in my chest expels out in a huge blast. “You just laid a lot on me. Give a girl a minute.”
I keep my eyes averted as I drape the towel over the rounded dough ball. Finally, I give him my eyes. And really take in the face in front of me for the first time.
There are similarities between Remus’s and Romulus’s features. Romulus’s are less exaggerated than his twin’s: his jaw isn’t quite as wide, his forehead isn’t as broad, and his lips are just as full but somehow not as widespread.
I blink a couple times and understand what I couldn’t quite put my finger on when I first looked at him. Aha. He’s the more classically handsome version of Remus.
The thing is, I’ve always thought that perfectly symmetrical, so-called perfect faces were boring. I like Remus’s stretched, slightly mad-looking features. I think he’s wildly handsome, and I love the puckish glint in his eye and never knowing what’s going to come out of his mouth next.
But was he just playing with me? Doing what his brother says and making chaos by stealing me away?
Then I frown, remembering the way he tenderly promised never to hurt me. Were those the words of a man who had no value for human life? Because, uh, I’m a human, and he’s been so careful with me. Was it all a manipulation? It felt so. . . real.
“How does your magic or power or whatever it is you’re talking about work? How did you influence these armies and stir bloodlust?”
Romulus blinks at me. “I think you’re missing the point here. My brother is a very bad—”
I wave a hand. “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. He’s the worst. Would tear a hole in the fabric of all that’s good and holy, whatever. I’m asking how. Like, what do you even do? How does your magic work?”
