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The god’s responding smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Something you should know. Rivlan usually chooses the underdog. The ones with little chance of surviving.”

So I’m the fucking underdog? Does that mean he’s already chosen a champion, or is he blowing smoke out of his ass to scare me? “Was there a reason for your visit, or did you come here just to hear yourself talk?”

“Careful. You would do well to remember who you speak to. But I’ll let that little comment slide just this once.” Zeru’s eyes adopt a menacing gleam as he motions to the field, where puddles from our training still remain. “I’ve been watching you. Your power has grown. Your command of magic is impressive.”

His compliment attempts to flatter me and gain my compliance, but the divine attention leaves me cold.

Zeru tilts his head to one side as if deliberating something. Then he offers a condescending smirk. “I can make things right. Secure your future and Tirene’s. You only need to switch sides. Fight as my champion instead.”

Ah.

The true purpose of his visit.

Question is, why in the three hells do two different gods want me as their champion?

I dip into a shallow bow, skirting the line between respectful and mocking. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already given my word to Rivlan.”

“Words can be easily broken in light of my offer.” Zeru waves a glowing hand as if my vow is of no importance. “You’d gain substantial benefits by aligning with me. I always show gratitude to those who help me.”

Contempt prickles my spine, but I bite my tongue. As much as I dislike this arrogant dickhead, I know better than to piss him off.

“My gratitude,” Zeru struts closer, the light from his crown and skin blinding me, “could mean prosperity for Tirene. Protection from drought. Favorable winds for your ships.” His voice drops lower. “Even assistance with those rebellious Northern Provinces that still resist Queen Lark’s rule.”

The offer is tempting. Or would be if I didn’t see straight through his manipulation.

I’m familiar enough with the gods to know their gifts always come with hidden costs. Not to mention betraying Rivlan would mean putting my magic at risk. Rivlan is water. Angering the god of my element wouldn’t be wise.

When I still don’t respond, Zeru’s expression sours.

The false warmth vanishes, replaced by a cold calculation that suits him better. “You should consider carefully before declining my generosity. Everyone who has opposed me, gods included, has ended up regretting it. My displeasure is a heavy burden to bear.”

An odd satisfaction zings through me at the threat. At least we’re finally speaking plainly. “As generous as your offer is, I made my choice when Rivlan approached us. To change it now would be dishonorable. I must stand by my decision.”

“As do I.” Agnar speaks from by my side, his voice unwavering despite the sweat beading on his brow.

Zeru’s face contorts with fury, all pretense abandoned. His gaze scorches me, and I feel like my skin should be crisping and flaking off. When he raises his hand, the air crackles with power.

I tense, preparing for an attack, but instead, he directs his rage at the ground. A section of the field, at least twenty paces across, simply vanishes. Not destroyed, not blown apart.

Erased.

A perfect hemisphere carved from the earth, creating a gaping crater with no sign of the rock, plants, or soil that were once there.

Well. That’s alarming.

Agnar, thankfully, holds still. Not even a twitch. Frozen is better than reactive at this point.

“The fight will be fierce.” Zeru’s tone slides into icy calm, as if he’s barely containing his rage. “I suggest you prepare yourself better than this display I saw today.” His knowing gaze lingers on me.

Then his form shimmers and collapses in on itself, leaving nothing but the faint scent of ozone behind.

Agnar whistles. “That went well. Can’t wait to see who he chooses as your opponent.”

He reaches out with his earth magic, drawing rock and soil from the surrounding land to begin filling the hole Zeru created.

As I watch the dirt flow into place, unease churns in my gut. “He’ll probably choose the Guardian simply out of spite.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight