Chapter 54: The Rune Beneath Her Voice (Her POV)
Dinner was quiet. Peaceful in that strange, heavy way peace always was after magic, after sex, after collapse. He cooked. Simple, for once, vegetables charred just enough, enchanted rice that glowed faintly blue. I didn't ask why. I was too tired to care. The wine was dark. Heavy. A little too rich. He poured it like a promise, leaned back in his chair with that smirk. The one he only wore when chaos wasn't required to keep me near. I sipped. Set the glass down. Then cleared my throat. Malvor froze. Blinked at me like he'd heard thunder. "You—"
"I can talk again," I said softly.
He dropped his fork. "Stars above, I was starting to think I'd have to learn interpretive dance just to flirt with you again."
I gave him a look. That look. The one that promised he'd end up in glitter if he pushed me. He grinned anyway. Raised his glass. The silence that followed was warmer now. Heavy, but not sharp. Waiting.
"Eight of them are active," I said. His smile dimmed. He nodded, listening. "Aerion. Navir. Ravina. Leyla. Calavera. Vitaria. Maximus." I paused. My throat tightened. "Yours."
His gaze caught mine. Lopsided smile. Soft. "Mine too. That's the most important one."
We let it sit there, folded between us like another napkin on the table. Eight. Almost all of them.
"You're close to complete divinity," he murmured. I didn't answer. I didn't need to. He leaned back. "So… who's next?"
We said it together. "Yara."
A pause. Matching smirks. Shared history. His grin was sharper now. "Perfect. She's easy. Always flirting with both of us. We wouldn't even have to try."
"She'd probably bid for the privilege."
"She'd pay me to let you seduce her."
"I wouldn't even have to lie."
"Neither would I."
Our eyes locked. No more plan was needed. It never was. "This is a brilliant idea," he said.
I raised my glass. "You say that about all your terrible ideas."
We clinked. Too loud. Too final. No bruises. Just wine. Just magic. Just strategy. That's what I told myself. But this one… this one already felt off. He grinned wider. "Exactly. And look how fun my life is."
I set my glass down slower this time. "When should we do it?"
"Tomorrow," he said without hesitation. But the pause after was too long, his mouth tight around whatever he didn't say. "Do you want me to… check in after?"
"Don't be weird about it." My voice stayed steady. Too steady. The kind of steady you earn when you've survived too much.
He let it go. Forced brightness. "We dress nice. She likes pretty."
"You're always pretty," I said automatically.
"So are you. Unfortunately."
The toast this time sounded like a door closing. That was it. No boundaries. No safety nets. Just, Let's seduce a goddess. I told myself it was fine. I'd done worse. With less. It was strategy. Just another rune. Just another job. It was just sex. That's what I repeated when I left the table. That's what I clung to. Because if I looked back, I might admit the truth.
The morning passed like a truce. Coffee. Clothes. No kisses. No questions. Silence that wasn't hostile, deliberate. Like circling a beast we'd summoned and couldn't banish. By noon, the lie was rehearsed enough to almost feel true.
"We need the rune," I said, arms crossed against the dresser.
He sprawled sideways in the armchair, twirling a crystal lazily, like sin incarnate. "You want to seduce her?"
"She likes you." I paused. Chose my words too carefully. "She likes me. She'll like us."
Smooth. Even. Like silk stretched over splinters. He looked at me too long. Something in my voice gave me away. He didn't name it. Didn't ask. "Usually," he said, tilting his head, "you have to try to seduce someone. You can't just schedule it like a doctor's appointment."
I smiled without my eyes. "Watch me."
Arbor rustled behind the walls. The candle flickered.
"Are you okay with this?" he asked, finally.
I didn't blink. "Do you want the rune or not?"
That should've been the end. That should've been the line. He didn't push. He was already standing, already summoning glamour. Ocean-kissed clothing. Seduction woven like armor. "Annie, my radiant reef fish," he declared, ridiculous as always, "let's go raise some tides."
I followed. Composed. Calm. Beautiful. But the cracks had already formed. I could see he told himself I was fine. I always said what I meant. I didn't lie. Not to him. …Right?
The air shimmered before the portal even finished opening. Salt. Sugar. Ocean-light with teeth. Yara's realm. I stepped through, hand brushing Malvor's sleeve like I was steadying myself on purpose. The truth: I wasn't.
Bioluminescent towers rose like coral cathedrals. Jellyfish lanterns pulsed between glass spires, bleeding light into tide-pool streets. Bridges of kelp rippled beneath our feet, each step leaving water shivers behind. Everything moved here. Even when it was still. The restaurant breathed with the tide, carved into the curl of a massive shell. The walls pulsed. Fishes drifted past like they were patrons too, some with scales, some with teeth. Our table floated on glowing ropes of seaweed. The whole place rocked like a lullaby whispered through clenched teeth. Malvor was delighted. Of course he was. I wasn't.
Then Yara arrived. Barefoot. Seafoam dress dripping arrogance. Half naked. Hair alive, eyes hungry. She sat beside him without hesitation, thigh pressed to his like she had always belonged there. "Well, well. The chaos twins," she purred. "You came dressed to beg."
I smiled, sweet. Razor-edged. "Only if you're listening."
I didn't want this. I'd already said yes. Malvor poured champagne like he was christening a ship. "Let's call it a proposal. Divine collaboration."
"You want something?" Yara's smile curled.
"We want you," he said.
Her laugh was indulgent. "Finally."
So the game began. Toasts laced with innuendo. Jokes soft as daggers. Her fingers ghosting over Malvor's wrist. Sliding along my thigh under the table. Malvor playing his part to perfection, arm draped behind her, the other teasing the edge of my knee. He grinned like this was just another carnival trick. "So," Yara mused, eyes flicking between us, "who takes the lead tonight?"
"We could take turns," Malvor grinned.
"Or take each other," she purred.
I laughed. Perfect timing. Perfect pitch. The kind of laugh I'd practiced since I was twelve. Inside, I wanted to throw my drink in my own face just to feel something cold. Something real. But outside? I was radiant. Composed. A masterpiece. Malvor caught my eye once, smiling so soft it nearly broke me. So I smiled back. He didn't see it was hollow.
We finished our meal and Malvor snapped us to Yara's club. Carved into a trench of living coral, the floor pulsed like the ocean's own heart. Illusions rippled across the dance floor, deep-sea caverns, galaxies of plankton, schools of silver fish darting underfoot. The music didn't play. It pulled. Malvor danced first, of course. His coat gone, sleeves rolled. Golden eyes lit from within. Yara matched him stride for stride, laughing like waves eating a shore. They looked like tide and storm. Like inevitability.
Then Malvor turned, hand reaching. For me. "Come on, Valkyrie," he grinned. "Don't make me dance sober."
So I stepped in. For a heartbeat, I almost believed it. Rhythm caught me. His hand on my waist. Yara's fingers brushing my hip. Their bodies pressed close, moving with mine. A trinity of sin. Malvor laughed against my temple. "My two favorite disasters."
I laughed too. Almost real. Then Yara kissed him. Hard. Open. Intentional. My smile stayed fixed. Too wide. Too bright. Too perfect. Pleasure is currency. Survival is debt. Smile. Dance. Bleed pretty. He came up for air grinning like a boy who'd just won every prize at the fair. Whispered something to Yara that made her giggle and pull him closer. Not me. Her. Just like before.
I twirled her anyway, caught her hand, laughed like it didn't sting. Yara leaned close, lips brushing my ear. "Does he always make you share?"
The answer burned in my throat. I swallowed it. "Only when he's generous."
"Lucky me," she purred.
It should've felt like power. Instead, it felt like drowning. I danced harder. Smiled wider. Became choreography. Performance. Inside, I drifted. Unmoored. Malvor, Gods, Malvor was glowing. Lit up with joy. With praise. With Yara's hands. He looked at her like she was freedom. Like he didn't notice my laugh didn't match the beat. Like he didn't see my eyes had stopped following his.
Because now, his gaze was all hers. It was supposed to be pretend. Strategy. Just a rune. Yara didn't play fair. And Malvor? He didn't always know when he was playing at all. So I moved. Because moving was easier than standing still. Because if I stopped, I might scream. Our dancing turned into something more sensual. Something that was all roaming hands and mouths.
Yara's grotto shimmered like a secret. Walls of glassy stone pulsed with pale blue light, every beat echoing like a second heart. Outside, the ocean crashed against cliffs, steady as a drum. A warning. The bed wasn't a bed. It was coral and velvet, obscene and holy, veiled with sea-silk that drifted like ghosts. Lanterns swayed on invisible tides. The whole room smelled like sugar rotting in saltwater. Too sweet. Too heavy.
Malvor leaned on the edge, shirt hanging open from where her hands had been. His grin lazy and worshipful. Salt tangled his hair, wine warmed his veins, and he looked, happy. Stars in his eyes. Not for me. Not yet. Yara moved like water. Barefoot, half-undressed, skin glowing like the tide. When she stretched, Malvor's mouth parted like prayer.
"She's unreal," he whispered. Not to me. Not for me. I stored it anyway.
Then her smile hooked us both closer. "My chaos twins. Let's see what divinity tastes like."
Her hands were the first on me. Soft. Cool. Lips at my throat, citrus and salt and something dangerous. Malvor came behind me instantly, arms caging, breath hot. His kiss landed like he'd been starving for me. "You're everything," he whispered, voice raw.
Heat blurred into heat. Skin into skin. His touches reverent. Hers commanding. I knew what to do. Tilt here. Moan there. Match her rhythm. Breathe when allowed. Easy. I'd practiced all my life. My body arched. My hips followed. My lips parted. Every movement believable, even to me. Malvor groaned my name like worship. Yara's laugh spilled like surf. They were drowning in this. I was floating above it.
When Malvor whispered, "Gods, Annie, this is perfect," I smiled. Perfect.
The rune came like a flood with my release. Gold and sea-foam light tearing through me, flaring across skin, marking me divine again. They collapsed into glow and sweat and awe. I felt nothing.
"Thank you," I murmured, kissing them both like gratitude. Soft. Convincing. Yara's thumb brushed my jaw, testing for something. Cracks, maybe. She didn't find them. My smile held. She kissed me again, brief, satisfied.
Malvor laced his fingers with mine, glowing with belief. "That was…"
"Amazing," I cut in, gentle. I didn't look at him. Didn't need to. He wanted this to be true, so it was. I stood after, graceful, untouchable. Said I needed air. Yara's gaze lingered. Malvor didn't notice.
Outside, the night wrapped me. Salt wind stung my face, sharper than tears I wouldn't give. Safe, I told myself. Not an altar. Not a temple girl anymore. But gods, I hadn't faked it this hard in years. And wasn't I still so good at it?