Page 257 of Starside
Not like Raker does.
“I killed the God of War,” he says, his voice distant. Emotionless. “Who thought he killed me, the God of Death, five years ago.” He steps over the dead god without sparing him a glance. “He’s been trying to rule the underworld ever since. Badly, as you saw, with the demons and stolen brides.”
“But you—you were human,” I say, seeing every difference. Every lack of warmth. Every smooth place that was once rougher. Every glimmering place that was once matte. He was always beautiful, but now …
Now.
Because he drank the cup and became what he was meant to be, the magic illuminating everything that was already there, he is not just immortal.
He is a god. Again.
“I suspected the gods were plotting against me. So, during the last Questral, I traveled to Stormside and buried a shred of my soul there. When the God of War finally tried to kill me, he failed to kill all of me. I awoke on Stormside as a human,” he says. He glances at the cup. “I needed the magic to access my powers again.”
“So that’s why you went on the quest,” I say, voice trembling. “It was always your plan …” I shake my head. “Tell me. How did I fit into it?”
“Your blade—”
“Is the other half of yours,” I say. He stills in surprise. I step forward. “But you could have killed me to get it. Easily. So many times.” My head tilts. “So why didn’t you?”
At that, he is silent.
I look down at the god between us. “Killing doesn’t seem to be a problem for you. So why?”
“Aris—”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” I demand, voice echoing through the room. My chest is heaving. Every broken piece of myself is showing, sticking out of my chest, like the blade of my heart has shattered after meeting a greater opponent. “Why did you pretend to care? Why did you pretend to see me?” I shake my head again, emotion welling up. “You should have just—you should have just killed me, Raker,” I say, my voice breaking. “It would have hurt less.”
His eyes finally flash with emotion. Pain. My pain affects him. He takes another step toward me.
And in an instant, that feeling is gone.
“Don’t pretend you were honest with me, Aris,” he says. “Do you think I don’t know who you are?” He takes another step. “Aris Agron, heiress of House Agron? One of the Great Houses of Stormside?”
My teeth lock together. It’s been years since I heard my full name spoken. I lost it that day, when my house burned to the ground. I don’t know why that matters to him, but it looks like it does. It looks like my lineage could mean more than I’m aware of.
Hearing it, hearing my name, shifts my agony back to rage. “A house your kind burned to ashes,” I scream. “You didn’t just kill my family—you killed hundreds. The entire village, all dead because of you.”
“I didn’t set the fire,” he says.
“You might as well have!” I take a step toward him. “You must know the prophecy. The one everyone else but me fucking knows.” I motion toward myself. “So kill me, Raker. You couldn’t do it before, but how about now? Do it now!”
He doesn’t move an inch.
I laugh. “Don’t pretend you care about me. I have lost everyone I have ever loved. Everyone. And—and I started to …” I don’t dare finish that sentence. “And you …”
The words spill out of me as I look at him, eyes brimming with tears, and simmering with rage, and filled with every single moment we’ve had together on this dark and perilous journey, fighting side by side to the edge of the world. My words are like my pain—numbed at first, then searing.
“You left me,” I say, my voice devoid of emotion.
“You left me,” I say again, remembering the pain at waking up alone.
“You left me,” I say, because I thought I mattered to him.
“You left me, weaponless, to die.” He watches the emotions slide through me, his face, his eyes distant and cold. “After … after—” My voice breaks, and his expression finally shifts, but no. I won’t get caught in this trap of caring.
Fury ignites me, and I close the gap between us. I rip the scabbard from his hand, and he lets me.
Scraping metal echoes through the hall as I peel my sword from its sheath.
