his anathreia now. But what would that accomplish? If Madoc turned the guards against Geoxus, Geoxus would kill them, and then the god of earth would call more guards, and when those ran out, he would stone Madoc himself.
Refusing Geoxus until he was sure of Ash’s safety was Madoc’s only play. He could take a hit—that’s what Elias had always said.
The reminder of his brother brought a new stab of pain. Elias would have been taken to the jail after his arrest. He would be safe there, at least for now.
Madoc hoped.
“Give Petros igneia,” Geoxus demanded. “You are Soul Divine, Madoc. Your anathreia is composed of the six energeias. Did you think Jann surrendered simply because you willed it? Or that the Kulan gladiator was healed by your good intentions? You manipulated their muscles, the air in their lungs and the iron and heat in their blood. You used aereia and hydreia and igneia, all at once. Now weed it out. Give Petros fire energy and show me you can control your powers. Do this, and I’ll call for Ignitus’s gladiator.” He sighed through his teeth. “I don’t expect my guards have been too lenient with her, now that she’s unable to defend herself.”
Disgust lodged in Madoc’s throat. Every prayer he’d ever uttered burned in his chest. Every stick of incense he’d lit shriveled in his memory. He’d needed something to believe in; he realized that now. He’d needed a father, and the Father God had become his answer. Without any proof, Madoc had sunk his belief into Geoxus, and in turn, Geoxus had been there. Guided him to take the money he’d won from Petros’s fights to the temple, where priests like Tyber could care for those in need. Let Madoc convince himself that he was worth something, even though he was pigstock.
But that was all a lie, a story Madoc had told himself to get through the long, lonely nights when the power whispering through his veins had made the emotions around him too loud to ignore. He hadn’t survived because of Geoxus; he’d survived because he’d refused to die. Elias, Cassia, the Metaxas, their home in the stonemasons’ quarter—it had all been chance.
The god of earth looked like Petros now, threatening pain and fear to force the energeia out of him. How small Geoxus must have felt to need Madoc’s power, the way Petros had needed him to win Anathrasa’s approval. Looking at them, Madoc couldn’t believe he’d ever thought one would be his salvation from the other. God or man, they were both carved from the same clay.
They would get nothing from him.
A guard raised a stone in his fist, but as Madoc braced for the impact, a gritty female voice cut through the stagnant air.
“Enough.”
Madoc’s gaze was drawn to the hunched woman standing at the edge of his vision. Anathrasa watched him with a scowl from a bench below a massive painting of Deimos. The other countries of the world were scaled smaller around it to appear meager and unthreatening.
Hate shivered down Madoc’s spine. He could still feel the coolness of Ash’s skin beneath his fingers. Empty, he’d overheard Anathrasa tell Geoxus as they’d dragged him from the room. Not a drop of energeia left inside her.
His birth mother had taken Ash’s igneia. Had fed on it.
Ash’s panic replayed in every clenching breath Madoc took. She’d known what was happening to her, felt her power being ripped away, and he’d been unable to stop it, just as she’d been unable to save Cassia.
His pain was silenced beneath a suffocating blanket of rage.
“He needs to feed.” Anathrasa rose and walked closer, stopping between him and the guards. She moved more easily than before, her back straight and her steps light, and he couldn’t help thinking that it had to do with the strength she’d gained from consuming Ash’s energeia.
Dark thoughts swirled inside him. Geoxus had said he could take a god’s power—not for long, but maybe long enough to leave the god of earth defenseless.
To turn Geoxus’s geoeia on him.
Madoc didn’t even know if that was possible, much less how he would control a god’s power.
“I told you he’s too fatigued,” Anathrasa continued when Geoxus groaned in frustration. She’d been arguing this since they’d arrived. “He’s not going to be able to do what you want when his soul is starving.”
“Ignitus is in Crixion,” Geoxus said. “He’s got only a small group of guards to defend him. If he returns to Kula, he’ll have half the