“See? It was a blessing.”
I looked at her then, took in the wary look on her face, the dark circles under her once vibrant green eyes, even her copper hair had dulled. “Ezra was supposed to show up,” I whispered, confessing what we hadn’t told the others. “If Thorne and Tuck hadn’t walked in, Ezra would have. Archer drained himself and Aeris never planned for our power to reach out and fill the void. She never expected me to be involved at all. Had things gone her way, I’d have died that day at Ezra’s hands most likely. Quill would have died in the pit. And Archer would be bound to Ezra. That’s how the Unmade Guardians are born. Thorne watched it happen in Archer’s memories. They wanted him because they knew he’d sit on the throne.”
She forced a smile but pulled away from me. “Thorne, Tuck, Minerva, Ezra, Aeris… Do you even hear yourself right now? Gods. All the gods. All their games. That’s why I have to do this. You wanted me to believe the gods were bad and I believed it. Don’t chastise me for what I decided to do after. I know there are good and bad, just like there are good and bad people. But they live forever and we only get these moments. Right now. I don’t matter. Not in comparison to the masses.”
I shook my head. “That’s bullshit, Thea, and you know it.”
“I’m not dumb enough to drain myself. I know my limits. Have a little faith in me.”
“I have all the faith in the world in you. But I also love you and this is dangerous.”
“It’s also my choice.” She threw a handful of metal scraps onto the cleared space, and a hush fell over the crowd. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I felt it, a subtle vibration beneath my feet, a stirring in the air. The pebbles near Thea’s hands began to tremble.
I backed up, stopping beside Quill and Minerva. I’d spoken my piece, but she hadn’t listened. Metal emerged from the ground like plants growing in fast, silvery tendrils burstingupward and weaving themselves into a complex latticework. The structure took shape before our eyes, first the frame, then walls that flowed like liquid before solidifying into something that resembled burnished steel. She’d taken ages with the bathhouse. And now she was melding a building in seconds. But she trembled. Sweat covered her forehead in seconds. Even her eyes went unfocused. Windows formed, delicate and arched. A door materialized, complete with hinges and a knocker shaped like a bird. And all I could do was sit there, looking beyond the beauty to the pain such an act had caused.
The crowd gasped and applauded. But Quill knew. Her wide blue eyes were locked on Thea. Hands to her sides as she worried over whatever emotion our friend was feeling. The house continued to grow, forming a second level, then a small balcony. But as it neared completion, I noticed Thea’s breathing grew labored. The metal responded more sluggishly, occasionally creaking in protest.
“She needs to stop,” I muttered, taking a step forward.
Minerva’s cane blocked my path. “Wait.”
With a final surge of effort, Thea pressed her palms flat against the ground. The house shuddered once, then settled into its final form, a modest but beautiful two story dwelling with flourishes that reminded me of the Syndicate house. As the crowd erupted into cheers, Thea slumped forward, catching herself on her hands.
I pushed past Minerva’s cane and rushed to Thea’s side, helping her to her feet. She leaned heavily against me, her skin clammy.
A small family pushed through the crowd, two tired-looking men, likely brothers, and two women, one with an infant strapped to her chest. Their gratitude was palpable as they approached Thea.
“We can never repay you,” a woman said, tears streaming down her face.
Thea straightened, summoning strength from somewhere deep within. “Live in it. Be happy. Take care of the Underground. That’s payment enough.”
As the family explored their new home, relishing every detail, Vincent appeared at our side with a cup of water for Thea. She drank it gratefully.
“You need to rest,” he said. “That’s your third house this week.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she still hadn’t released her grip on my arm.
“You’re not,” I countered. “And if you collapse, who’s going to build the next one? Or maintain all the supports holding this place up?”
That sobered her. She nodded reluctantly. “Maybe a short break.”
As we settled at a table nearby, Minerva leaned heavily on her cane. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know? Not only physically, though that’s concerning enough. But secrets this big have a way of revealing themselves.”
“What are you saying?” Thea asked defensively.
“I’m saying that gods are curious creatures by nature, and mortals are terrible at keeping secrets. Do you really think they don’t know?”
“If they knew, they’d have done something by now.”
“Perhaps they’re simply waiting. Watching. Learning.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not creepy at all.”
“It’s realistic,” Minerva countered. “We are known for playing the long game, dear. Trust me on this.”
“We’re not fools. But what choice do we have? Go back up there and pretend we’re happy with gilded cages?”
“Some would,” Minerva said.
