“What—”
“Be silent.” Thunder boomed behind him, an echo of his command, and Iason went quiet. Leviathan felt his pulse, the current inside him, and listened to what it had to say. “You’re not lying,” he said, at length. “But you did take my form from me. And if you wanted me to take your life, here, now… I couldn’t. Not due to any lack of will, for you are nothing to me and yet you stole power as if you had some right to it. But the current in you, it is tied to mine. You are the reason I cannot shift, and until that has been put to rights, my brother’s river will be closed to you.”
“Your… what?”
“My brother Death. It is to his river that all of you return, in the end. A pity it wasn’t his power you harnessed, wizard. He is the kindest of us all. Far kinder than me, for your existence frames his own, and you matter not a bit to me.”
“You’ve said,” Iason muttered. “But I’m not sure I believe you. And if mattering to one human girl has led me here, maybe it’s best I don’t matter to a god. But do you mean… I can’t die, at all? Ever? From anything?”
He soundeddisappointed.“No. Not while our currents run beside each other. What you did, it… took something from me, and now that something is yours. And perhaps the girl’s; I don’t know. But we will undo this magic, after which you may live or die as you choose.”
“Doomed to survive,” Iason said, and then—he laughed. It was harsh, but there was something else in it, a note of underlying panic. “Wonderful. How fitting.”
Leviathan moved his hand from Iason’s neck to brush fingertips over Iason’s scarred cheek. “What is this?”
“Scars,” Iason said.
Leviathan made a face. “I know that. I have them—oh. In my other form.” His entire being ached at the thought of the draconic self currently lost to him, wings and scales and scars and all. “Dragons wear scars proudly, as sharks do.”
“These are not proud scars. None of mine are. I hurt someone, once, and he threw fire at me, a spell net.”
Leviathan thought about that siren, long ago, and her warning about a human taking his godhood and ensnaring him. “Who?” he asked softly. Iason’s scarred skin was rough and puckered under his fingers. The rain had slowed and was now barely a drizzle, the clouds lightening.
“A light mage. He’s— It wasn’t his— I know why he did it.” Iason turned away, clearly uncomfortable with the touch. “I deserved it.”
Leviathan, annoyed, turned Iason’s face back and searched his eyes. “There was once a lake in the country they now call Arktos, before it was called that, when it was something else, as all places have been. The lake was fed by a river, but its waters held so much salt that nothing could live in it. That’s what you feel like: a body with too much salt and no life.”
Iason shoved him, which was so surprising that Leviathan actually stumbled backward. “I’m just a man who made too many mistakes, and instead of paying for them, the universe keeps me alive to make more.”
“The universe does nothing. I kept you alive. I kept her alive, too. This girl. Sophie. You’ll take me to meet her.”
“No,” Iason said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. She’s been through enough.”
“It wasn’t a request. You think I can’t find one mortal girl?” Leviathan narrowed his eyes. “You will have to become better at doing what I want.”
Iason laughed again. “You’ll have better luck making mea dragon. I’m already making myself far too known around here, and I don’t want anyone to know who I am orwhat I used to be. But I will keep Sophie safe. It’s the only good thing I’ve ever done. Even if it means saying no to a god.”
“Your moral posturing is very boring,” Leviathan told him. “But that is true for all of you, isn’t it? Humans. You live such short lives, and you make them needlessly complicated.”
“I don’t know what to say to that, dragon.”
“Do not call me that.” It hurt, remembering the form he was presently unable to take. The sky rumbled, and the wind picked up again. “It displeases me, and my displeasure is best avoided.”
Iason raked his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to that, either. What do I call you, then? Tempest?”
“My name is Leviathan,” he said. “You may use it.”
Iason’s mouth quirked. Shockingly, he looked amused. He bowed. “I’m honored.”
“As you should be,” Leviathan said, pleased when his own toothy grin made Iason’s expression turn wary. “When I walk as a man, my siblings call me Levi.”
“Levi, then. You need some clothes. And you… promise me you won’t hurt Sophie, or get involved with the revolutionaries who might discover who I really am. I’ll draw on your magic until we’re both dead if you—”
Leviathan grabbed him around the neck again, shaking him lightly, his voice very quiet as lightning broke in the sky. “Listen to me. I may look like a man right now, but I am not one, and you won’t forget that again. I don’t answer to you. I don’t hurt mortals for sport, either, and I’ve no reason to harm this girl or anyone else. Except for you, and I can’t do that… yet,” he added meaningfully. “I don’t get involved in mortal politics, either.”
“Plenty of ships have gone down in your waters,my lord Tempest,” Iason snapped. “Starian warships don’t always make it home.”
“The storms are mine, maybe, and the waves. The wars, though, those belong to my sibling, and they’re sleeping for the moment. Your revolution wasn’t bloody enough to rouse them, I expect.” He let go of Iason. “Take me to meet this girl. She was the one who benefited from the magic you stole from me. Maybe I will find some answers by listening to her currents as I did to yours.”
