A pain clamps down on my temples, vice-like and sharp. “What?”
“I will not end your torment. We both know Bale would only select another, and neither of us are willing to chance that. Me, out of fear I’d be chosen, and as you so wisely assessed, I cannot leave behind my family. And you, for fear of losing your power.” He leans in closer. “But Kal? She’s different. She’s been chosen for this very task.”
The searing in my brain intensifies. Currents spark beneath my skin, my scalp. The dark goddess reminding me that she can torture me until I take my own life. “Your suggestion is to allow you to bind me and let Kal have her way with me?” I chuckle. “Sounds appealing.” And truly, it does. “But there’s one hitch, Bax. I don’t trust you. And I’m sure Her dark glory wouldn’t approve, either. I’d suffer something awful.”
The glowing ribbons begin to fade from my hands, the power ebbing. Bale is pleased. But the seed has been planted. Bax knows this as he rights himself in his chair, a satisfied expression on his weathered face.
“Of course,” he says. “Who would want to live in constant torment? I’m sure she has her ways.”
Folding the letter in half, I fan the page at Lake, wordlessly instructing him to fetch the seal and a messenger. Whomever he chooses will surely not return alive, and he’ll understand as much. He’ll do his goddess’s bidding with pride.
“Make sure you select someone who will not break and reveal our location under duress,” I tell him before he bows and sets off on his task.
Now that I’m alone with Bax, I prepare my interrogation. The things I want no other to hear.
“And if Kaliope somehow manages this feat…?” I trail off, knowing Bax will choose the right angle to pick up on. One where Bale cannot accuse me of probing out of disrespect to her.
Standing, Bax kicks the leg of his chair, moving it aside. He takes his time stretching out on the hardwood floor, maybe hinting for more comfortable accommodations. I admire his bravado. Again, I note that he’s been raised slightly more privileged than the rest of the mutants.
He tucks his hands behind his head. “When I first realized that Kal was the ‘house’, I wanted nothing more than to pit her against my father. She was a weapon. Not flesh and blood. I cared nothing for the girl.”
I remember Kal relaying Bax’s plan when we were incarcerated in the Otherworld. And I recall thinking, even then, that he was a selfish mongrel who was only using her. He valued her over the others, and it had something to do with the blessed mercury in her veins. But I also knew, somewhere along the way, he began caring for her as a daughter. So what changed?
“And so…now?” I probe. “She is still a weapon. Your most powerful against the dark goddess. Why this sudden protectiveness, Bax?”
A flash of anger hardens his features, and he turns on his side to face me, his sharp nails digging into the wood. “I was a fool. Just like you are now. We’re all just pieces on a board. The goddesses move us around, and I won’t be used for their vindictive game any longer.”
I hike my eyebrows, amused. “You’re evading my question.”
Slitting his gaze, Bax reclines back in a relaxed pose. He huffs. “We are not completely unalike, Prince. You thought the Nactue leader could keep you alive in the Cage, and so you clung to her side…at first. Then, you fell for the woman. I suppose it is difficult to use a person as a pawn after you’ve befriended them.” He cocks his head in my direction. “That is the discerning difference between us and the deities.”
His words echo ones I spoke not long ago. I wonder, after everything that has happened, if Kal still caries her blind faith in her goddesses. Or if she’s now aware of how they’ve used her.
I lounge in my chair, deciding this might be the last time I’m able to relax. Maybe Bax feels the same. “Is it the power she houses that draws us to her, or the girl herself?” I ask aloud, to the room, not expecting an answer.
“Does it matter?”
Bax has a point. Regardless of what we’re drawn to, she transfixes us
. I wonder if I’m talking about her now just to further feed my obsession.
“And to answer your question,” Bax says. “Kaliope is strong enough, powerful enough. She could drive Bale out of you and bar the moon goddess within herself…at a high cost. She is still a mortal. Though she harbors something of a divine degree, her disbelief in her own greatness would sabotage her any attempt.” A beat. “She would die.”
This resonates deeply. Bale doesn’t speak up; it must be true. I glance down at Bax. “The woman I knew had enough belief to power her whole queendom.”
“That was before she failed.” Bax eyes me closely before rolling over and turning his back to me. He settles onto the floor, as if he’s already asleep, but adds, “Before she lost you.”
? 12 ?
Kaliope
I’M STARTING TO FEAR the worst for Bax.
The heavy thump of my boots echoes through the long stretch of corridor, sounding ominous and startlingly loud at the same time, as I search the opposite sector of the Nactue quarters. I’ve already scoured our section, spoken with both the Perinyian guards and Cavan’s, and none of the Nactue have seen him since before the Otherworlder raid.
One final meeting with Bax and my Nactue is needed before I set off. I want to make sure they understand—that I’m at least leaving with their support, if not their approval. Because I’m doing what my gut tells me I must. Even if it goes against everything I’ve sworn my life to.
Rounding the last corner toward my destination, a twinge of guilt flutters my stomach. I’ll have to consult Empress Iana soon. Before I embark on a mission where I’ll most likely not return alive, I first have to get her permission. I’m linked to her through the goddess bond. It’s my duty to protect her, and my leaving goes against every tradition.