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The gods move to the edge of the dais, and the demigods, along with Amell and Deandra, move in close to listen.
Cato makes a lowering motion with his hands and everyone falls silent. “Welcome all. The gods eagerly await to hear your matters of import. We’d like to welcome officially, for the first time, King Amell, steward of the Underworld, and Queen Deandra, ruler of Faere. We’ve summoned them today to discuss the current state of affairs between their two realms. After which, we’ll…”
“Cato has got to be hung like a racehorse as big as he is,” Deandra murmurs from my right.
I glance at her and can see she’s mentally undressing the god. Her words were no more than a low whisper to me, but Cato turns his golden regard to her as he continues to talk. She doesn’t look away, but what do I know? Maybe there’s a love match there.
I doubt it. Deandra only loves herself.
“Amell,” Cato says, looking his way, then back to Deandra. “Your realms are separated by a veil that has been breached before, allowing entry of Dark Fae into Faere. Those tears have been repaired, but one uprising in the Underworld has already been quelled. It’s entirely possible some type of assault is being planned on Faere. The purpose of calling you both here is to let you know that the gods will take no part in this potential war.”
Interest rumbles through the small crowd. Amell and Deandra exchange a glance.
It’s not that the gods don’t interfere.
They fucking meddle all the time. Hell, they create prophecies when they get bored only to jazz up their infinite lives.
But it’s definitely unusual for them to declare a hands-off policy before even knowing if there’s something to worry about.
“It’s our suggestion,” Circe says, and all attention moves to her, “that the two of you work closely together to share information and monitor the veil that separates your domains.”
“It’s a strong suggestion,” Onyx adds. “We will be displeased if the First Dimension is threatened again so soon after it’s regained its peaceful foothold in this universe. War between your lands puts the mortal realm in jeopardy.”
“It’s time for unity,” Veda says. “All the old grudges died with Kymaris and Nimeyah. It’s time to become allies.”
My regard turns to Zora. Each of the gods has spoken, but she remains silent. I’ve often thought the gods speak because they like the sound of their own voices. Zora isn’t like that which is why she could be holding her tongue. More than likely, she’s unsure whether she has the right to say anything, even though she’s as powerful as her siblings. To her credit, she keeps her beautiful eyes on the crowd, although she doesn’t look at me once.
It should hurt my ego, but I expect she’s pissed Deandra kissed me. I’m going to have to make sure she admits that she saw menotkiss her back and even push her away.
Silly god.
Circe spreads her arms. “Are there any of our beloved demigods with urgent matters to report?”
I take my shot and step forward. “I would like to make a request.”
That gets Zora’s attention, and her head snaps my way.
Circe inclines her head. “What say you, Maddox?”
“I would like to make a formal request to our most benevolent deities to bring back my brother Lucien from the torment of the Crimson River. He’s suffered long enough.”
It’s a long shot. Since Amell won’t help me, and I won’t ask Zora—because you don’t ask such things of the woman you’re sleeping with—I figured I’d put the idea to the Council as a whole.
I glance at Carrick, and he’s shocked. I had not told him ahead of time that I was going to ask for our brother to be resurrected. It’s not that the request is forbidden, but it’s a huge ask and if granted will come not as a boon but as a favor that must be repaid.
Which is why I’m stunned when Carrick steps beside me and says, “I join in the request. I would hope after our dedicated service to you, as well as Lucien’s, you would be open to consideration.”
“As you know,” Cato says in a low voice, “such things are not taken lightly. It must also be by unanimous decision of the Council. I am personally against it. What say my sisters, yay or nay?”
Right down the line, the answers come.
“Nay,” says Circe.
Onyx lifts her chin. “Nay.”
Veda’s demeanor screams sympathy, but she shakes her head. “Nay.”
My eyes land on Zora, but she doesn’t look at me, instead choosing to cast a detached gaze out over the crowd. “Nay.”
