Page 140 of The Concubine King
“No.”Kiaro’s soft gaze on him was agony.“None of this is what I wanted.But it was the only way they agreed to bring you back.”
“Ethyr…?”Poyut hesitantly interjected.She had knelt to one knee, he didn’t know whether from reverence to the gods or weakness from her injury.She watched him with concern.The priests who had braved stepping out of the temple once Klara was there were also on the ground, prostrating themselves before the gods.
The sight was disgusting.Mortals venerating what they alone allowed to exist.It would be like Ethyr expecting the trees to bend and bow to him.But none of the gods paid them any mind.They watched Ethyr with uncertainty, shame, or steeled resolve.
They were only faces.There was nothing of them that was a part of Ethyr; light’s warmth, air’s grace, earth’s steadiness, sea’s resilience, crystal’s tenacity, death’s calm.Darkness’s sweet severity.Where they once bloomed vivid inside him was only a hollow chasm.
He closed his eyes, turning his head away from the gods’ stares.He let anger replace sorrow, let it take root and grow.It thrummed inside him, choking out every emotion but fury.From within his human body it spread to the chords of life that veined the earth below his feet.It embedded beneath the foundation of the temple, the foundation of every foolish human’s faith in their worthless gods, and there it sprouted.His wrath unfolded, bursting forth from itself.Thick roots cracked the millennia-old stone floor, an expanding trunk crumbled painted walls, stretching branches burst through the ceiling and toppled the austere statues of the gods.He watched in the sparse light of a crescent moon as the last wall fell, replaced by a trunk nearly as wide as the temple and a canopy as tall as the top of the waterfall.
The few straggler priests still inside scrambled out, panicked, and the drove of them watched in helpless shock as their home, their life, the center of their faith, was demolished to rubble around a tree larger than the temple had ever been.
The gods didn’t move.
Ethyr whipped towards them, their lack of reaction infuriating him more.“You’re not going to stop me?”he snarled.“You’re not going to tear my heart out?!Isn’t that what you want?What your humans want?”
They did not respond.He grit his teeth and strode to Catocus, forcing the god’s hand to his chest.“Cadoc?You won’t do it?”
Catocus watched him with pained resolve.
Ethyr stepped back, eyes stinging.“What did I do to deserve this?”he cried.“This existence?You won’t even free me of this?!”
“Ethyr, what is going on?”Poyut asked, her fearful gaze locked on the enormous tree.The terror in her eyes tempered his anger.The civilized gods were not worth the energy it took to spit, let alone this madness.He returned to Poyut’s side to help her stand.
“Can you walk?”he asked her.She nodded, still watching him in concerned expectation of an answer.“Come on.”He helped her down the road.The gods split, stepping apart to allow them through.He did not cast them a single glance.They could continue their repugnant existence if they wanted.He’d have no part in it.
Guards who had rushed to the top of the mountain at the rumbling stood in the road as well, looking at the chaos, looking around for Lyrian.
“Lyrian is dead,” Ethyr told them.“Klara is the new advisor.Speak to her.”
They looked between each other in baffled uncertainty, but did nothing to stop Ethyr and Poyut from walking past.
“The gods did kill him, then?”Poyut asked, arm around his shoulders as she leaned on him to stumble forward.“They protected you?”
“Yes,” was all Ethyr said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The palace workers were in silent astonishment.They stood gathered at back windows or on the grounds, staring at the tree that had risen from nothing in seconds.The whole city could likely see it, as it stood as clear and prominent as the temple once had.
They did not disturb Ethyr and Poyut limping through.He brought her to her room and let her sink onto her bed.
“Are you in much pain?”he asked.“Should I get the physician?”
“No, no,” Poyut sighed, closing her eyes.“I just feel… weak.”
“Rest, then.I will be back shortly.”
He changed into his wool tunic, woven belt, and leather boots.He paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.Golden tan skin, brown curls, hazel eyes.He had human ears, no fur or antlers of twisting branches, but his human body did not look much different.Not as different as Kyarin’s had.And despite being in it for only two decades—a blink of an eye—he still felt human.He was still Ethyr.Was it how Kyarin had felt, becoming Kiaro?Everything he had once been, only memory woven into who he now was.
He opened a little compartment on the side of the vanity and took out the opalescent earrings, his first pair, and put them on.The pendants shimmered against his neck even in the pale light from an early morning sun.
He took the cloak Kiaro had given him, a lifetime ago, and returned to Poyut.
He sat with her for an hour or two while she slept.Then she had the strength to change into clean clothes and wash her sword and scabbard of blood.She did not ask when he beckoned her through the palace to the stable, and had a stable boy tack two horses.
The priests had picked through the rubble of their home and were already beginning to move into the palace, under Klara’s guidance and help from the guard, who seemed lost and meek now without their leader.None of them stopped Ethyr and Poyut from leaving the grounds or the city.
They traveled slower than gossip.Every inn they stopped at had murmurings about what happened in the capital, but they were all uncertain, incredulous.Rumors that a giant tree had grown and toppled the temple in a matter of minutes was interesting enough to spread, but too incredible to fully be believed.Ethyr’s appearance and Poyut’s palace guard livery and pouch of gold turned heads and wagged tongues, but they traded the decorated saddles and bridles of the palace for simple, plain ones.It did not stop the stares, but it prevented their arrival from drawing attention before they’d even entered a town, and they didn’t stick around the commons long enough for courage to be found to ask them.
