Page 38 of Godbound
“Really?” he retorts, a mocking lilt curling through his tone as he falls into step beside me. “And where exactly is that?”
“Right in your chest, where your broken heart lies,” I snap.
It’s a low blow. I felt his broken heart and despair through our connection. But my words raced ahead of my thoughts, leaving me no chance to take them back.
His only reply is a fleeting blink, enough to stoke my quiet desire for retribution against Kaelzar’s earlier cruelty. Or maybe… for the way he sees through me when no one else bothers to look that closely.
The afternoon sun sears my back as a reminder that although only hours have passed since we vanished into the first Challenge, the Ryker I once knew now seems a lifetime away.
I reach him, and when his steady gaze meets mine, my strength nearly fails me. Instead of collapsing as my body begs for relief, I lower myself slowly onto my knees, the last of the remaining Champions who stand in line on the other side of the dais.
“You made it after all,” a derisive voice calls from behind Ryker, as Mael steps forward.
Zyrel chuckles from the side. “Like mold in a damp cellar, always creeping back, no matter how many times it’s scrubbed away.”
I snap my head to the side, shocked that he would find it appropriate to speak up after the king’s brother. Deep within, my coiled magic stirs.
I return his gaze with defiant resolve. “Sorry to disappoint, Red Hunter, but I’m not planning on being scrubbed away anytime soon.”
Zyrel sneers, “And what a shame that is,” his words thick with disgust, as though each syllable nearly chokes him.
Despite myself, I glance at Ryker, hoping—foolishly—for a flicker of outrage. But he says nothing. Zyrel’s insult hangs unchecked in the air.
Then, from my right, my Godbeast stirs. “The real shame,” he says, voice like gravel, “is a man who built his whole legacy chasing frightened girls with a rope because no woman ever willingly let him close.”
A surprised half-gasp, half-chuckle slips from my lips, glad for once that Kaelzar’s brazenness is aimed at someone else, especially someone so deserving of it. He must have seen the truth about Zyrel through our mental connection, and for once, I don’t mind.
Mael raises his hand to gesture for Zyrel to hold back his retort, while he looks down at Kaelzar as if he’s a mere insect.
“Beasts are meant to serve in silence,” Mael says. “Don’t you forgetthat and keep your mouth shut.”
I’m not sure where this sudden burst of defiance comes from, whether it’s the exhaustion of these past two days, frayed nerves, or the stolen images of Kaelzar on his knees that I glimpsed during our shared mind connection, but the last of my restraints breaks.
I square my shoulders and glare up at Mael from my kneeling position.
“He’s mine, Mael,” I say, “so only I decide what he does with his mouth. And with all due respect, your opinion of us is irrelevant.” Rising without waiting for permission, I add, “I am the Champion of the Goddess of Blood and Decay, and your word means nothing to me now.”
My heart pounds as exhilaration floods through me, as if my soul has slipped free of old constraints.
In the dark corners of the temple, the shadows seem to flicker, and for the first time, despite my sodden, torn dress and aching bones, I feel I can stand tall, chin raised high.
Mael opens his mouth, drawing in a sharp breath like he’s preparing for a long-winded retort when Ryker barks, “Enough,” his voice laced with fury.
And in that moment, I finally understand his silence. The anger simmering beneath his calm exterior is barely contained. Fury at me? Maybe. But more than that, I see it in the way he turns his head ever so slightly away from Mael, as if the sight of his brother repulses him.
Still, he says nothing. Because the court doesn’t know the truth. They don’t know Mael caused my Crimson Tether curse. And Ryker, ever the king, keeps his true feelings buried, choosing silence over scandal.
“Let the Champion be on her way,” Ryker says cooly. “She deserves rest.”
For a heartbeat, hope lights in my chest. But when I look at Ryker, his eyes are fixed on the red strand in my hair.
And in his carefully controlled gaze I see the anger, the betrayal, the pain he’s trying so hard to bury beneath his kingly mask.
“You may go,” Ryker declares, his gaze sweeping over me to hissilent court as if I were nothing but a nuisance.
The finality in his voice stings, and I feel the weight of his dismissal like a physical blow. Almost as if he’s ordering me to leave not just the temple, but this kingdom and its people.
Finally leave him.
