Slaying the Vampire Conqueror(100)

Her gaze fell to Atrius—Atrius, who was still drenched in the Sightmother’s blood.

The terror that spiked through me at that, just her attention going to him, paralyzed me.

And before I could stop myself, I leapt to my feet.

“I am responsible.”

The words flew from my lips before I gave myself time to reconsider them.

A bolt of raw fear speared Atrius’s presence—even though he hadn’t so much as flinched when it was himself under Acaeja’s scrutiny.

I couldn’t let myself pay attention to that, though, as both goddesses’ eyes turned to me. The force of their attention alone nearly made my knees buckle, like my body could not withstand the power of their gazes.

“I’m responsible,” I said again. “And it would be an honor to sacrifice my life to you, my goddess, in payment.”

I couldn’t acknowledge Atrius. I would break if I did. I had the attention of two goddesses on me—two of the most powerful beings to ever exist across time itself—and yet I felt his stare just as strongly as theirs.

Nyaxia laughed. “See, Acaeja? If you want to take a life in exchange for a life, here’s a pretty, young one ripe for your plucking. But you will not touch my acolyte.”

Nyaxia, it seemed, was suddenly very protective when it came to her rival gods. Perhaps more about competition than it was about benevolence, but I was grateful for it on Atrius’s behalf either way.

I told myself that I had never been afraid of death. And yet, I couldn’t stop the shaking when Acaeja turned to me, her ice-white eyes staring through me. She approached, feet gliding without movement over the tile floor.

She leaned down before me, our faces level. All the threads, every one of them, bent toward her, as if begging to return to their natural origin. Each layer of my soul peeled back for her, leaving me terrifyingly exposed, like at any moment she could reach into my ribcage and pluck my bleeding heart.

The past, the present, the future blended. I felt uprooted in time, a million versions of myself over a million moments now standing in this spot, on trial under her judgment.

“Tell me, child,” she said, “why would you offer yourself up to me so willingly?”

One of her many fingers, this one marked with a thorned circle—the symbol of the heart—reached out and trailed down my cheek.

“Because I did betray my Sightmother.” Despite my best efforts, my voice wavered. “And because I have offered you my entire life, and it would be a greater honor than I deserve to offer you my death, too.”

She regarded me, face stone, the light of her eyes peering through even my most deeply hidden threads.

“It is useless to offer me false truths, Vivi,” she said.

My heart leapt to my throat. “I swear it, my goddess, I—”

“Just as it is useless to offer them to yourself.” That single finger slid down, over the angle of my chin, lifting it. “So very terrified of that beating thing within your chest. That is the wrong enemy, child.”

My mouth closed. Acaeja straightened, drawing herself up to her full height. The light of her eyes flared, and the threads at her fingers shivered and rearranged, as if mapping the path to a new web.

“Your offering is very noble,” she said, “But I do not want it. Your death is of no value to me. But your life... I see that something of great usefulness may come of that.”

I released a shuddering breath.

But that brief, powerful wave of relief crashed down hard when Acaeja turned back to Nyaxia and Atrius. For a split second, I thought that perhaps I was about to witness Atrius’s death—or a battle between the goddesses that would destroy all of us.

Yet Acaeja’s voice was calm when she spoke again.

“I have great sympathy for your pain and your grief, cousin. So, I will let you keep these victories. Let you keep the head of my acolyte. Let you keep this kingdom. But.” Her face darkened, the light of her eyes tinged shifting blue. The sky above us grew unnaturally purple, soundless cracks of lightning dancing over the stars. “Know this, Nyaxia. You have crossed a line here today. Done what cannot be undone. I have fought too long and too hard on your behalf to be disrespected like this. And you know that if it were any other but me standing before you now, the punishment would not be nearly so light.”

Nyaxia smiled sweetly. It reminded me chillingly of the smile I had seen in Atrius’s vision—the smile that doubled as a death promise.

“I long ago tired of the White Pantheon’s petty threats, Acaeja,” she said. “If Atroxus or his ilk want to come for me, let them come. I will fight harder than my husband did. I have none of his compassion.”

Acaeja stared at Nyaxia for a long moment. The threads on her fingers danced and wove, fanning out behind her wings as if running through a thousand possibilities of a thousand futures.

“I tried, cousin,” she said, softly. “You will not remember it. But let the fates show that I tried.”

And then, in a blaze of clouds and smoke and wings, Acaeja tipped her head to the heavens, and she was gone.

Nyaxia barely glanced after her.

“Such catastrophizing,” she muttered, pushing a sheet of star-dotted hair over her bare shoulder. Then she turned to Atrius, and that slow, night-hewn smile spread over her beautiful mouth again.

“Atrius of the Bloodborn,” she crooned. “You have served me well. You have exceeded my expectations. In return, I lift the curse I placed upon you, just as I promised.”