The Kingdom of Gods
Page 128
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“I was Enefa’s lover, too,” I said softly. I did not look at her at first. “Not … not often. When Itempas and Nahadoth were off together, mostly. When she needed me.”
And because there would be no other time, I looked up at her and let her see the truth. You might have needed me, too, in time. You’re stronger than Naha and Tempa, but you’re not immune to loneliness. And I have always loved you.
To her very great credit, she did not recoil. I loved her more than ever for that. But she did sigh.
“I’ve felt no urge to have children,” she said, grazing her knuckles along my cheek. I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes. “With so many angry, damaged stepchildren already, it seems foolish to complicate matters further. But also …” I felt her smile, like starlight on my skin. “You are my son, Sieh. It makes no sense. I should be your daughter. But … that’s how I feel.”
I caught her hand and pulled it against my chest so she could feel my mortal heartbeat. I was dying; it made me bold. “If I can be nothing else to you, I am glad to be your son. Truly.”
Her smile turned sad. “But you want more.”
“I always want more. From Naha, from Enefa … even from Itempas.” I sobered at that, shifting to lie against her side. She permitted this, even though it had gone wrong before. A sign of trust. I did not abuse it. “I want things that are impossible. It’s my nature.”
“Never to be satisfied?” Her fingers played with my hair gently.
“I suppose.” I shrugged. “I’ve learned to deal with it. What else can I do?”
She fell silent for so long that I grew sleepy, warm and comfortable with her in the softness of the nest. I thought she might sleep with me — just sleep, nothing more — which I wanted desperately and no longer knew how to ask for. But she, goddess that she was, had other things in mind.
“Those children,” she said at last. “The mortal twins. They make you happy.”
I shook my head. “I barely know them. I befriended them on a whim and fell in love with them by mistaartke. Those are things children do, but for once I should have thought like a god, not a child.”
She kissed my forehead, and I rejoiced that there was no reticence in the gesture. “Your willingness to take risks is one of the most wonderful things about you, Sieh. Where would you and I be, if not for that?”
I smiled in spite of my mood, which I think was what she’d wanted. She stroked my cheek and I felt happier. Such was her power over me, which I had willingly given.
“They are not such terrible people to love,” Yeine said, her tone thoughtful.
“Shahar is.”
She pulled back a little to look at me. “Hmm. She must have done something terrible to make you so angry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She nodded, allowing me to sulk for a moment. “Not the boy, though?”
“Dekarta.” She groaned, and I chuckled. “I did the same thing! He’s nothing like his namesake, though.” Then I paused as I considered Deka’s body-markings, his determination to be Shahar’s weapon, and his relentless pursuit of me. “He’s Arameri, though. I can’t trust him.”
“I’m Arameri.”
“Not the same. It isn’t an inborn thing. You weren’t raised in this den of weasels.”
“No, I was raised in a different den of weasels.” She shrugged, jostling my head a little. “Mortals are the sum of many things, Sieh. They are what circumstance has made them and what they wish to be. If you must hate them, hate them for the latter, not the former. At least they have some say over that part.”
I sighed. Of course she was right, and it was nothing more than I had argued with my own siblings over the aeons, as we debated — sometimes more than philosophically — whether mortals deserved to exist.
“They are such fools, Yeine,” I whispered. “They squander every gift we give them. I …” I trailed off, trembling inexplicably. My chest ached, as though I might cry. I was a man, and men did not cry — or at least Teman men did not — but I was also a god, and gods cried whenever they felt like it. I wavered on the brink of tears, torn.
“You gave this Shahar your love.” Yeine kept stroking my hair with one hand, absently, which did not help matters. “Was she worthy of it?”
I remembered her, young and fierce, kicking me down the stairs because I’d dared to suggest that she could not determine her own fate. I remembered her later, making love to me on her mother’s orders — but how hungry she’d looked as she held me down and took pleasure from my body! I had not abandoned myself so completely with a mortal for two thousand years.
And because there would be no other time, I looked up at her and let her see the truth. You might have needed me, too, in time. You’re stronger than Naha and Tempa, but you’re not immune to loneliness. And I have always loved you.
To her very great credit, she did not recoil. I loved her more than ever for that. But she did sigh.
“I’ve felt no urge to have children,” she said, grazing her knuckles along my cheek. I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes. “With so many angry, damaged stepchildren already, it seems foolish to complicate matters further. But also …” I felt her smile, like starlight on my skin. “You are my son, Sieh. It makes no sense. I should be your daughter. But … that’s how I feel.”
I caught her hand and pulled it against my chest so she could feel my mortal heartbeat. I was dying; it made me bold. “If I can be nothing else to you, I am glad to be your son. Truly.”
Her smile turned sad. “But you want more.”
“I always want more. From Naha, from Enefa … even from Itempas.” I sobered at that, shifting to lie against her side. She permitted this, even though it had gone wrong before. A sign of trust. I did not abuse it. “I want things that are impossible. It’s my nature.”
“Never to be satisfied?” Her fingers played with my hair gently.
“I suppose.” I shrugged. “I’ve learned to deal with it. What else can I do?”
She fell silent for so long that I grew sleepy, warm and comfortable with her in the softness of the nest. I thought she might sleep with me — just sleep, nothing more — which I wanted desperately and no longer knew how to ask for. But she, goddess that she was, had other things in mind.
“Those children,” she said at last. “The mortal twins. They make you happy.”
I shook my head. “I barely know them. I befriended them on a whim and fell in love with them by mistaartke. Those are things children do, but for once I should have thought like a god, not a child.”
She kissed my forehead, and I rejoiced that there was no reticence in the gesture. “Your willingness to take risks is one of the most wonderful things about you, Sieh. Where would you and I be, if not for that?”
I smiled in spite of my mood, which I think was what she’d wanted. She stroked my cheek and I felt happier. Such was her power over me, which I had willingly given.
“They are not such terrible people to love,” Yeine said, her tone thoughtful.
“Shahar is.”
She pulled back a little to look at me. “Hmm. She must have done something terrible to make you so angry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She nodded, allowing me to sulk for a moment. “Not the boy, though?”
“Dekarta.” She groaned, and I chuckled. “I did the same thing! He’s nothing like his namesake, though.” Then I paused as I considered Deka’s body-markings, his determination to be Shahar’s weapon, and his relentless pursuit of me. “He’s Arameri, though. I can’t trust him.”
“I’m Arameri.”
“Not the same. It isn’t an inborn thing. You weren’t raised in this den of weasels.”
“No, I was raised in a different den of weasels.” She shrugged, jostling my head a little. “Mortals are the sum of many things, Sieh. They are what circumstance has made them and what they wish to be. If you must hate them, hate them for the latter, not the former. At least they have some say over that part.”
I sighed. Of course she was right, and it was nothing more than I had argued with my own siblings over the aeons, as we debated — sometimes more than philosophically — whether mortals deserved to exist.
“They are such fools, Yeine,” I whispered. “They squander every gift we give them. I …” I trailed off, trembling inexplicably. My chest ached, as though I might cry. I was a man, and men did not cry — or at least Teman men did not — but I was also a god, and gods cried whenever they felt like it. I wavered on the brink of tears, torn.
“You gave this Shahar your love.” Yeine kept stroking my hair with one hand, absently, which did not help matters. “Was she worthy of it?”
I remembered her, young and fierce, kicking me down the stairs because I’d dared to suggest that she could not determine her own fate. I remembered her later, making love to me on her mother’s orders — but how hungry she’d looked as she held me down and took pleasure from my body! I had not abandoned myself so completely with a mortal for two thousand years.
