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I jerk back to stare at him.

Water beads on his face. Not sweat.

Armor. He’s subconsciously putting on his armor, the same way I wrap myself in fire.

Lifting my gaze from his mouth to his eyes, I see why. Not because he’s scared. No. Murderous determination glints in his eyes. He’s thought of something.

“Sterling?” I grab for him, but he’s already pivoting on his heel and marching toward the bedchamber. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

He doesn’t acknowledge or even seem to hear me.

Frantic to know his thoughts, I follow.

But his longer stride carries him faster, and he reaches the door to the patio just as I make it to the bedchamber. His wings unfurl, and he launches skyward, vanishing into the darkness.

Chapter Forty-One

I toe the edge of the Storm Cliffs on the westernmost side of Tirene, where the ground ends in a ragged drop straight down to monstrous rocks. Below me, nothing exists beyond sky and the ocean’s relentless assault on the land. The sea, a dark roiling mass observed by the distant light of the stars, rages, its power calling to me. Salt spray bites at my face.

As the water churns, the waves begin rising higher and higher, crashing against the cliff face with unnatural force.

Reaching for me. Responding to the frenzied anguish boiling inside me like a toxic stew.

I’ve gained all this power, and for what? So I can enter a death match with the woman who owns my soul?

I tip my head back to the heavens. “Fuck every last one of you!”

When yelling doesn’t help, I drop down, grab a rock, and chuck it into the water with all my might.

I hate letting those assholes box us into a corner, hate the pain their bullshit has already caused Lark. In-ex-fucking-scusable. We need to find a way out of this mess, some sort of cosmic loophole, but what?

If Lark and I accept the gods’ request and fight each other, we save humanity, but one of us dies at the other’s hand.

If we don’t fight and spare ourselves that horrific pain, we damn humanity to the gods’ sadistic wrath.

Either way, we’re royally fucked.

Despair mixes with fury, carving a hole in my chest. As my heart hammers and my breathing grows ragged, my fingertips fill with an icy chill and the waves continue to swell.

Balling my fists up, I once again scream my denial into the night. “I refuse to fight. I. Won’t. Do it!”

“Such insolence from my champion. I expected gratitude for the power I’ve granted you.”

Jerking in surprise, I pivot to find the air behind me shimmering. The salt spray takes form, condensing into a humanlike figure. Almost. Rivlan, God of Water, possesses no heart, no compassion, no honor. He claims none of the qualities mortals respect in others.

Except power.

My top lip curls into a sneer. “Gratitude? For making me your pawn in some empyreal chess match? For telling me I either kill the woman I love or condemn everyone else I love to death? Yeah, I’m overflowing with gratitude.”

The sea erupts, a massive wave crashing against the cliff and sending spray thirty feet into the air. Rivlan’s form glimmers with renewed intensity. “Watch how you speak to me. You may be drunk on your newfound power, but I assure you, yours does not compare to mine.”

The raging beast inside me snarls in reply, egging me to accept the challenge. “I don’t give a flying fuck who has more power. I’m not fighting the woman I love to the death. Find another champion or solution.”

Ice crystals materialize in the air around us as the temperature plummets in response to my mood.

“You think either of us has a choice? You accepted the mantle. You cannot refuse the fight. We are both in the same boat.” Rivlan’s resounding shout crashes like a river pounding rocks. “Don’t for a second believe throwing this match will save you either. Once a champion accepts the challenge, they either win or die. The moment you surrender, you. Will. Die.”

The waves grow monstrously huge, battering the cliff incessantly.