A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,91

of that hanging.

Rebellion? Riv thought.

Which is why you made your stand in front of the people, Kol. To put these Ben-Elim in a position that they could not withdraw from gracefully.

“Who was your father?” Kamael said, ignoring Kol’s words. He lifted into the air from his seat and glided down to the dais, landing a few paces before Riv. His eyes bore into her.

“I don’t know,” Riv said, returning his stare with matched intensity.

“Who was he?” Kamael asked again, lips curling in a snarl.

“I. Don’t. Know,” Riv said, quietly, anger pulsing with the beat of her heart, a drumbeat in her skull.

“Your mother?”

“Dalmae,” Riv said. “Once a captain of a White-Wing hundred.”

“And where is she?”

“She was slain,” Riv said. “The night Israfil died.”

“She fought in Israfil’s defence,” Kol said, loudly, for all to hear.

No. She fought in my defence. Against you, Kol.

“Against traitors. Dalmae is a hero.”

Murderer, Riv thought, straining to keep her anger at Kol leashed, her focus directed at Kamael.

“This is all so convenient,” Kamael said. “Your father unknown; your mother dead.”

“Convenient?” Riv said. “Convenient that my mother is dead?” She felt her fingers twitch, the memory of Dalmae’s lifeless eyes staring at her. Mother, grandmother, it did not matter to Riv. Dalmae had raised Riv as her own, a lifetime of caring, teaching, loving. Just the memory of her stirred grief in Riv deep as her bones.

“I loved my mother,” Riv snarled. “Her death was a tragedy, not a convenience.” The thought of wrapping her fingers around Kamael’s throat was growing ever more appealing.

And then, without warning, Kamael was moving, drawing a knife, stabbing, wings beating to close the gap between them.

Riv saw the blade coming at her chest, its tip glinting in the last rays of the sun. She threw herself backwards, her wings snapping out and beating to break her fall, holding her bent almost parallel to the ground. Kamael’s knife passed above Riv, slicing only air, and then Riv was grabbing Kamael’s wrist, a twist of her hips and a beat of her wings and she was turning in the air, rolling around his arm, spinning him, too, snapping his wrist and taking his feet from the floor. She slammed him into the ground, standing over him, fists clenched, nostrils flaring.

Her hand reached to the short-sword at her hip.

Then Kol was there. Kamael tried to rise and Kol kicked him back down, put a foot on his chest.

“Riv is the future,” Kol said, leaning over him.

“She is an affront to Elyon’s Lore,” Kamael spluttered.

“There is no Elyon’s Lore,” Kol snarled back. “You know this. You know that we wrote it.”

“What?” Riv said, stunned.

Kol froze, staring at Riv. A silence settled around them, like a held breath.

“Elyon’s Lore was written by the Ben-Elim,” Kol said finally. “It did not come from Elyon the Maker, it was, is only what we thought his will would be.”

Elyon’s Lore, a lie.

All those countless hours listening to the Lore, learning, praying, obeying. The guilt of any wrongdoing.

And it is a lie.

Her world was continually shifting, like standing on a sheet of ice that flowed upon a river. Riv tried hard to keep her emotions from her face, the sense that she should not have heard this revelation heavy upon her.

I must not give the Ben-Elim another reason to want me dead.

“But we are not Elyon, we are not divine,” Kol said, staring up at the thousands of Ben-Elim gazing down at him. “We wrote the Lore intending it to be a guide for mankind, and a way of pleasing our Maker, when he returns. But perhaps on this one Lore, we were wrong. I ask you all, is it worth ruining our relationship with Elyon’s creation, worth division with them, perhaps even a war with them? I ask you, is it worth losing all else we have gained in this land of flesh? Let this one Lore go, and let us move on with mankind. Let me lead you, name me your Lord Protector and I shall lead us through this. A new order for a new world. It will make us stronger; it will make us more able to destroy the Kadoshim, our eternal foe.”

A silence, then one Ben-Elim stood.

And then another, and another, and then the whole chamber seemed to shift, a wave of mail and wings as thousands of Ben-Elim rose to their feet.

Kol leaned over and gripped Kamael’s hand, helping him to his feet.

“Be my friend, Kamael,” Kol whispered, low enough that only Riv could