Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X #1)(108)
Author: Richelle Mead

“I’m going back to my room,” Mae said once she was dressed. “I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow to go to the airport.” She strode toward the door.

“Mae—”

She paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. For the slimmest of moments, he knew he could still save this. He could find some clever, endearing way to take back the god-awful spiel he’d just made up. Or, unbelievably, he could even tell her the truth. But he didn’t say any of those things, and she walked out the door.

Justin sank back onto the bed, still naked, trying to make sense of what was completely nonsensical. Lying there only made him think of her again, especially since the scent of her perfume lingered on the sheets. Frustrated, he stood up and put the rest of his clothes back on. The brief tumble hadn’t wrinkled them, which was a small blessing. After a little touch-up to his hair, it was almost like the debacle had never happened—aside from the hurt lingering inside him.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this! Why couldn’t your god have left me alone? he demanded of the ravens. I wouldn’t have been exiled. I wouldn’t be in this mess with SCI. I wouldn’t have had to say those things to her.

You’re one of the elect, said Horatio simply. So is she. When gods choose you, you have to face the consequences.

Justin had done a good job alienating her. He’d seen it as every word that came out of his mouth hit her like a physical blow. It was especially effective because there’d been some truth to what he said. There were, shameful as it was, plenty of women who lost their appeal after that first time. Mae wasn’t one of them, but she didn’t know that, not after his magnificent, bastardly performance. There’d be no recovery from this.

He supposed it was his own fault for letting things get so far. He’d been caught up in a need to comfort her after all she’d been through today. Then…he’d recognized the warning signs and tried to pull back, with little success. The more she’d touched him, the sultrier her voice had grown, the more luminous those desire-filled eyes had become…well, the easier it had been to forget sketchy dream promises. Even when she’d been on him, with the light shining all around her, every bit the woman among women he’d been promised in his dream…even then he could almost forget. But she’d brought him back to reality with her words—his words, actually. Those stupid flowers.

It was time to go. There was a small casino next to the hotel, and he suddenly craved his old vice. He craved a number of vices, actually. He needed to drown his melancholy in as many distractions as he could find, because he was going to go crazy if he stayed here and pined.

Maybe I’ll have more success with the dice, he told the ravens.

Horatio’s helpful response was: I don’t see how you couldn’t.

But he couldn’t easily forget Mae as he walked downstairs. Once more, he toyed with the idea of telling her the truth, and once more, he dismissed it. He knew she was only just barely tolerating what she saw as his irrational belief in the supernatural. How would she handle it if he described the rest of the golden apple dream to her? The part where she’d been offered to him by a god?

He’d given Mae a very good recounting of the dream, but he’d edited crucial details of the conversation that had sealed his fate, ones that his sharp memory couldn’t let go of.

“Give me the apple,” the half-shadowed god had said in the woods, “and I will show you the path to wisdom. My thought and memory will guide you, and we will give you the tools to outwit your enemies.”

“I offered him the same thing,” the silver goddess had said in protest. “And I’d make it far more enjoyable.”

“My wisdom is greater and older than yours.” The half-shadowed god had turned back to Justin. “You’re too ambitious to let your cleverness go to waste. When you’re sworn to me, I’ll share my knowledge and teach you spells and charms, the likes of which the world hasn’t seen for ages.”

“I don’t believe in spells and charms,” Justin had said, even as a chill of anticipation ran through him.

The god had snorted. “You will. And I know you believe in the charms of women. I’ll send you one. A woman carved of fire and ice, who will scorch you in bed and live and die for you outside of it.”

“Wisdom can’t be given, but love can?” protested the goddess.

“He didn’t promise love,” Justin had found himself saying. “He insinuated it.” That had brought a chortle from the half-shadowed man, whom the goddess had then called a cunning bastard. The smoky god, however, had been indignant.

“You want women? With the power I’ll give you, you can have more women than you ever dreamed of.”

“He only needs one,” the half-shadowed man had insisted. Even without seeing his eyes, Justin had felt that dark gaze boring into him. “A woman among women. You’ll see. You’ll know her by a crown of stars and flowers, and then when you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me.” Suddenly, almost comically, the god had jerked his head up in surprise. “Damn. You’re no use to me dead.”

A surreal feeling had swept Justin, of being simultaneously in the dream and back in his bed at the inn. And back in his bed, the world was burning around him. He’d managed to blink the dream back into focus and plead with the half-shadowed man. “Save me, and I’ll give you the apple.”

“And agree to the rest of my terms? All the words that have passed between us are binding. When you swear in a dream, you swear with your soul.”

“Yes, yes. Just get me out of here.” Justin had tossed him the apple and woken up to ravens.

Aside from the fact that he had two possibly imaginary birds living with him, Justin hadn’t thought much about the dream in exile. There’d been no glorious woman, no spells or charms, no godly apparitions. Mae had therefore caught him off guard, and he’d just barely been able to twist the god’s words around and dodge the deal. You’ll know her by a crown of stars and flowers, and then when you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me.

Justin had argued that according to the words of the deal, he didn’t have to swear loyalty until after he’d claimed her as the one crowned in flowers and stars. Since he hadn’t known who she was the first time, he therefore hadn’t technically claimed the crowned one. It was tenuous footing, but that technicality kept him safe, so long as he didn’t screw up again. He’d used a similar technicality to save him from the training in charms and spells the god had offered—and that was the key. Offered. Justin hadn’t actually promised to do any of it. The god had just assumed Justin would jump at the chance.