“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” he murmured, before pulling back slightly so that we could see each other. Most of our bodies still touched, fitting together somehow perfectly, even though I was much smaller.
“What is?” I was honestly confused; his closeness had knocked out my brain functioning capacity. I was back to basic needs, only what was required to stay alive.
He moved back a little more, keeping me with him.
“He means that you’re needing us more and more. The contact. The touching.” Coen was there now, pressing against my side. The double contact allowed even more relief to sink into my chest, to my bones. Actually, I was pretty much boneless by now.
“You can touch us, Willa.” Aros this time, his warmth caressing the opposite side to Coen, and now there were three of them. Everywhere. “Don’t hurt because you’re worried about touching us.”
Siret snorted, and I could feel him at my back. “She touches us all the time. I dream about it. The way her hands seem to clutch at whatever clothing is in her vicinity, and her delectable body pressing against ours.”
I was done. Pretty much the gods could finish me off right now and I’d go with a smile on my face.
Except for Rome. I was missing Rome. I was worried about Rome. Plus, we were making a pretty big spectacle of ourselves in the hallway, although strangely enough there wasn’t anyone around that I could see. Coen must have noticed me trying to peer down the hallway, because he murmured low in my ear, “Yael convinced them all that they had better things to do.”
Then, as one, they stepped away from me, and the world was suddenly cold and vast again. My security was gone. It was only the hand Coen kept on my back that prevented me from collapsing into a heap at their feet. Damn my traitorous soul—it was supposed to be on my side!
Before I could gather my wits, we were moving, and then somehow we were back in front of their rooms. In front of Rome’s, to be precise. Just as they were about to step inside, I touched Siret’s arm. “You can drop the illusion now.”
My joke had pretty much backfired on me, but I didn’t regret it. I had stood up to the Abcurses in my own way, and that was not something anyone did. They wouldn’t forget it, and they might actually think twice before giving me an order again. Yeah, right.
Still, standing up to them was a big deal … even though I knew they weren’t going to smite me into a million pieces. But even incurring a tiny portion of their wrath was enough to have most people crying like babies. I’d done that and more.
Siret gave me a look at that thought, and it was one that I hadn’t seen before. But it was really freaking hot. If I had to guess, I’d say he was kind of impressed. Then, with a nod of his head, I felt a burning whoosh of energy traverse my body and the illusion was gone.
There was a moment of silence, and then before I could track his movements Coen slammed his fist into his brother’s face. Siret flew back with a loud crash into the wall behind us. He was back on his feet in an instant and then it was on.
Coen and Siret clashed in a fury-of-the-gods kind of way, trading heavy blows. The sounds were loud and aggressive as they echoed along the hall.
“You let sols and dwellers look at her like that?” Coen’s words were low and angry. Filled with power and pain. “They saw her dressed in almost nothing! It’s bad enough when she loses her clothes through whatever special magic she possesses, but this was you. You allowed this to happen!”
Siret deflated then, not even bothering to lift his hands and defend himself. Coen got one more hit in before a dead silence filled the space. I realised then that Aros held me tightly, both arms wrapped around my middle. When I glanced down, he said, “You were trying to get between them and one hit could have killed you. You have a death wish, Rocks.”
He was probably right. “They’re not fighting now, so let me go.” I struggled for only half a click, to no avail, before Aros finally released his hold. Coen and Siret were still in a standoff, their anger palpable. Siret had blood pouring from a busted lip. I crept closer, my movements slow and exaggerated so that I didn’t take either of them by surprise and cop a smack to the mouth. Aros was right, a solid hit and I wouldn’t survive. There was a Siret-sized hole in the wall behind him.
Lucky they were gods. As I had that thought, I noticed that the cut was already healing on Siret’s face, and his bruises were fading out too. I was guessing that if they had been in Topia, there would have been no injuries to see at all. Here on Minatsol, they probably healed a little slower.
I was just about at Coen’s side when Siret broke. “Shit, man.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I screwed up. You know that I can’t resist a good illusion trick. It didn’t sit right with me either, but I had already given Willa my word, so I followed through on it.”
Coen wasn’t softening. If anything, this enraged him even more. With a final curse in my direction, he spun on his heel and strode away. In a few angry movements, he was inside his room, the door closing behind him with a resounding bang.
It looked like my skill in pushing people away was reaching epic new heights. I was down to three Abcurses now, and none of them looked very happy with me. I drew myself up again, trying to search for Independent Willa. She surged forward and I let her confidence wrap around me. This was about the pact. I had followed their orders. I had hidden my nakedness from them. I had proved the point that needed proving … hadn’t I?
I frowned, my attention skittering over Yael and Aros, before coming to a rest on Siret. There was blood marking his face, but his injuries had completely faded away. Now I understood why they never pandered to the demands of the gods during their arena fights. They had to end the fights as quickly as possible—or better yet, without a real fight at all. If they got injured and healed themselves in front of every sol at the academy, surely people would become suspicious of them. They were gods. And I was not. I was just the pain-in-the-butt who attached herself to them and started causing drama.
“I just need a click,” I heard myself saying, my eyes running over to Rome’s door, and then to Coen’s.
I didn’t hear the triplets move, but the pain in my chest increased, and it was enough to convince me that they had respected my wishes and retreated into their own rooms. I appreciated that they hadn’t pushed me.
But something deep inside me stung. Burned. Bled.
I was already pushing them away, just like Emmy had said I would.
But …
They were letting me.
Six
I was back inside the cleaning closet, huddled up in my underwear with my arms looped over my knees. I guessed it was close to six rotations after sunset, but I had no way of really monitoring that. The halls had grown quiet several rotations ago and the glow of sunlight beneath my door had dimmed to blackness. I could barely see my hands as I held them up before my face.