Page 12 of The Never List
“You should always be looking,” Ivy encourages as Layce brings us to a stop in the center of the crowd. We have a perfect line of sight to the space in front of the dais.
“Why here?”
“You don’t want to miss the show,” Layce answers. “Being your first time and all.” She smiles and winks at my confusion.
The magical orbs of light hovering over us dim on cue, and the music softens to a barely audible hum. The kings shift on their thrones, delight flickering over their features as they eye the empty space before them expectantly.
“The Tale of the Four Goddesses,”the announcer says. Ivy and Layce mouth along to the words. Spotlights erupt near the dais. “As portrayed by the Ruby Aire Players!”
“In the beginning,”Ivy whispers in a mocking lilt under the announcer as he shifts to a narrative tone.
“There were four men who stood above the rest,” the announcer continues, the spotlight trailing over the kings. “And there were goddesses who walked among us.” The lights shift to the space before the dais. “Four goddesses who fell in love.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan to Ivy. “We all know this story—”
“Shh,” Layce says, nudging me. “Look at the costumes, thedetails.” She gazes longingly as each actress performs onstage.
“Evaluna,” the announcer says as an absolutely stunning woman draped in royal blue silk and stardust, her hair as black as night and eyes rimmed in streaks of silver, dances in smooth movements along the stage, “goddess of the moon and stars, chose King Baydel Lavine as her mate, imbuing him with immortality and powers the likes of which Lumathyst had never seen.
“Tareena,” he continues, “goddess of earth and water, chose King Lucas Dawson…” A gorgeous actress sheathed in hunter green and ocean blue glides with fluid movements onto the stage. “Eirdis,” he says, drawing out the name likeer-deeze, “the goddess of wisdom and time, chose King Brooks Bertrand…” This actress wears purple, her hair an array of beautiful curls, the symbol of a spider laid into the delicate folds of her dress. “And finally,” the announcer calls, and my breath catches. “Neph, the goddess of sky andsun, chose King Jullian Erhart.” This actress is covered in gold, her hair done in a wide fan around her face, her eyes resembling the sun itself.
Neph is the goddess whose gift runs through my veins. The cloud birthmark practically burns on the back of my neck as the actresses fall on their knees before the kings the goddesses once chose.
I wonder, not for the first time, what the real goddesses looked like, wonder if our goddesses would be pleased by the portrayal or offended by it. Shouldn’t the kings be bowing to them? Not the other way around?
“Together, the Kings and the Goddesses of Lumathyst created our beloved kingdom,” the announcer goes on. “Together, they loved and lived in a passion that can never compare, and the goddesses walked among the people of Lumathyst, blessing those they deemed worthy.
“But the imbalance of power became a catalyst for betrayal by their people, so the goddesses wanted to ensure their sons, their only heirs, would never suffer the same fate. They used their magic to call forth for their sons onlyonemate who would connect them all, to act as their tether to the people of Lumathyst and ground them if their hunger for power ever grew too large.
“And all too soon, Lumathyst suffered attacks from those overseas who wished to conquer our prosperous land. The goddesses were heartbroken. They did not want their young sons to grow up during a bloody war. And so they sacrificed their current lives, putting themselves to sleep, using their inherent powers to act as protective wards against those enemies who would threaten their mates’ and their sons’ future.”
The goddesses on the stage fold in on themselves, sadness coloring their features. But I barely see them. Instead, I see the kings poised on their thrones, the four Legends still near the dais before them, surrounded by wealth. I see no hint of sadness in the kings’ eyes, no ounce of regret or longing. They don’t look like mates being reminded of those they lost.
They look like men with the power of the goddesses, intent on doing anything, killing anyone to keep it.
Why would the goddesses go to sleep when they could’ve likely created wards on their own? That part of the story always rubbed me the wrong way.
“And so it has been, with the kings working tirelessly to ensure Lumathyst prospers…” The story progresses, but I shake my head.
“The only reason they have any wealth is because those beneath them dig it out for them at the expense of their backs,” I mutter under my breath.
Layce gasps at my side, eyes darting around to see if anyone heard me.
But a familiar laugh sounds again, this time right behind me, right at my ear, and a shudder runs down my body.
“That mouth,” the deep, masculine voice says.
I turn around, looking up into those indigo eyes.
“I bet it gets you into all kinds of trouble,” he whispers, and this time I can’t tell if he’s smiling or intrigued or offended. The metal mask covers too much of his face.
“Maybe it does,” I say as the play continues behind me. “Who’s asking?” I arch a brow and feel my black butterfly mask rise with the movement.
His eyes roam over my face, down my neck, over mybody, lingering on my pin for a few seconds. “No one important,” he says, then nods past me, to the play. “You don’t seem to agree with the pageantry. Why?”
“The pageantry is fine,” I say, turning back to the show. I feel him move closer behind me, and something inside me stretches toward him like a cat begging for attention. I don’t have time for this, whatever this is, but I can’t deny that I like it. It’s been a while since I felt that spark with someone. That itch to discover and touch and play. And I haven’t even seen this one’s face. “Beautiful, even,” I say, watching as the goddesses on the stage appear to turn to stone. “It’s the writing that bothers me.”
Ivy flashes me a warning look.
