Page 121 of The Fake Divination Offense
Has he ever talked to any of them the way Darian’s god talks to him? It’s unusual for Urzoth to talk to anyone. He’s never been that kind of god,involved.
And yet, here we all are.
“The holiday season,” I start, reading Treva’s speech. Just say the words; I don’t have to feel them. “Is always a special time for me. It’s a time to reflect on the ways Urzoth has—”
I swallow.
Stumble a bit.
Regain myself, and carry on: “On the ways Urzoth has given me strength this year.”
There’s a list. A few bullet points about how Urzoth got the Hellhounds to the rawball championship, how he helped me in the bar fight months ago. Easy stuff.
Just read the list.
I clear my throat.
… the ways Urzoth has given me strength.
The words spin on the page. They blur.
Until I just see two:he hasn’t.
Hand shaking, I take the speech, crumple it in my fist, and look up at the crowd.
My tongue dries and I’m going to say that,he hasn’t. Those are the words that’ll come out of my mouth, here, now. I’m going to renounce Urzoth in front of the entire church.
Oh gods. No. Not here; Bel still needs this cover. Do it for Bel. Keep your shit together for Bel—
My gaze drops to the second row and I latch on to him. He’s sitting on the edge of the pew, body wound like he knows what’s going through my mind, and he probably does.
He smiles, encouraging. And mouths,It’s okay.
My chest crushes and I clamp down on the speech balled in my fist. I’m hit with such a battering ram of love for that man that I choke down those undoable words,he hasn’t, and open my mouth and say, “The biggest sources of strength in my life have come from my relationships. Particularly now, with Alexo Warden.Hegives me strength. And I am eternally grateful for finding him.”
There’s stilted applause as I duck away from the podium.
Most will attribute what I said to Urzoth; they won’t get the nuance of it. And if they do? I don’t care.
I wind my way back to our pew as Reverend Drach introduces the next speaker, but instead of sitting, I grab Bel’s hand.
He snatches our coats off the seat and folds himself into me, and against the applause of the next speaker taking the podium, I drag him down the side aisle and out the door.
The chill December air bites into us as we step outside, and I work our coats on quickly. It isn’t until we’re walking to my car that Bel glances back.
“They were still doing speeches,” he notes.
“Mm.” I open the passenger door for him.
He eyes it, then me. “Don’t we need to stay for that?”
“We fulfilled our obligation.”
A slow smile stretches his face. “So… we’re playing hooky?”
“We are grown-ass men who can make our own decisions abouthow we want to spend our time.” A pause. “But yes, we’re playing hooky.”
Bel’s smile gets sheepish and tender. He pushes up onto his toes and I automatically bend down, letting him press a kiss to my cheek.
