Page 47 of Godbound
Peonica snorts, clearly unimpressed, but the tension in her stance eases. “Lurking? I was making sure Raylane wasn’t disturbed. Rightfully so. You barging in like a raging bull isn’t exactly what I’d callrespectful.”
A sigh pulls from my chest, frustration creeping in. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Enough. Both of you.” My voice cuts through their bickering. I turn to Peonica first. “You should be home, not camping out in my chambers. I—” I falter. “After what I did yesterday, we don’t know the consequences with the crown and Church. It might not be safe to be near me right now.”
She shrugs, but there’s no defiance in it this time. “Figured I’d stick around anyway.”
Then, my gaze snaps to Kaelzar. “And you! One moment you vanish, the next you storm in here acting like you get to decide when I wake up and what I do the moment I roll out of bed?”
Kaelzar’s jaw tenses. “If you had any sense at all, you’d do exactly as I say. In bed or not.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to motivate her,” Peonica mumbles, more to herself than anyone else, and heads to the sofa.
Heat creeps up my neck, but I refuse to react.
Instead, I fix Kaelzar with a level stare. “I have more important things to do.” My voice is firm, though my thoughts are already racing. I need to speak with Ryker.
Kaelzar steps closer, his presence looming, shadows curling at the edges of his cloak. “What could possibly be more important than the Spectra Judicium?”
My mouth opens, but I hesitate. The truth is, I don’t know everything about the Trial. I can learn how to fight. I can endure. But the intricate rules, the hidden dangers—those are what might undo me. Not strength. Not skill. Ignorance.
Kaelzar studies my silence. “Preparation is key, Trouble.”
I grit my teeth. I hate that he’s right. “I know,” I bite out. “But barging in here and barking orders isn’t helpful.”
Something flickers across his face. Annoyance? Amusement? I can’t tell. “Next time, I’ll send a formal invitation,” he says.
Peonica makes a noise of mock approval from the sofa. I resist the urge to groan.
“Fine,” I snap. “Give me a moment to get ready, and we’ll discusswhat needs to be done.”
Kaelzar inclines his head and moves toward the window. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
His cloak shifts as he walks, the black fabric rippling like liquid shadow, alive with something unnatural. The soft clink of chains trails after each step, which serves as a quiet reminder of everything I still don’t know about him.
I stop my mind from wandering, and usher Peonica toward my bedroom, careful not to touch her skin with my ungloved hands as the door clicks shut behind us.
Comingup short on anything remotely suitable for physical training, I settle on the simplest gown I own, a light brown one, gloves, and a pair of closed-toe sandals I once wore during my lessons with Eleanor. They were meant for brides learning to walk in rhythm during a wedding ceremony, part of the preparation she’d arranged for a marriage that will never happen.
The small bells at the straps chime with every step as I move toward the door, and Peonica nearly collapses with laughter at the noise. I promise through gritted teeth that I’ll see to a proper wardrobe for training soon enough.
When I fling the door open, ready to rush out, I collide head-on with a wall of something black and unyielding.
Kaelzar’s back. He must have been standing a hair’s breadth from the door, his broad frame blocking it completely.
“What is it?” I hiss, poking him to move out of the way.
Peonica, slick as always, slips around me and ducks beneath Kaelzar’s arm before I can stop her. She launches forward, clearly intent on confronting whatever danger is lurking outside.
Kaelzar catches her mid-stride, one massive arm hooking around her waist and hauling her back against him. The movement opens a narrow gap beside them, just enough for me to step through.
Beyond him, four guards stand in formation, their hulking figuresencased in armor of fused metal and seamless stone, likely conjured by Zyrel’s transformation magic to make the stone light enough to wear.
“You’ll let them take her?” Peonica’s voice snaps from behind me, as I face the four men. Her question is followed by a heavy stomp and Kaelzar’s low grunt of pain—she must have stepped on his foot.
“She’s my Champion. The stars could try taking her from me, and they’d fail,” he mutters, voice low enough to suggest he’d rather I didn’t hear. “But something tells me she’d be slightly pissed if I made four men disappear before she even tries to handle them herself.”
I exhale, shaking my head, because all of us—including said four men—can hear every word of their ever-so-charming exchange.
