There was no way she could kill him. Nor was she willing to. “Why can’t you kill him?”
“We are forbidden from killing other gods. You aren’t. And your skill with the bow matches his. You’re the only mortal capable of killing Camulos. When you kill him, we’ll raise you to godhood in his stead.”
All sound, from the whistling wind to the lowing cows, faded as Andrasta swayed on her feet. Her, a goddess? No, that wasn’t possible. And not if she had to kill Camulos to become so.
“Why?” The words strangled in her throat.
“We must have a god of war. Merely killing him would create an imbalance. If you defeat him, you will become the goddess of victory, a war goddess.”
“You think I’ll be weaker than he is. Easier to control.” She wasn’t stupid. This was a chess game for them and she was but a pawn.
The goddess shrugged elegantly. “True, we’ve decided that you’ll be less trouble than he. You’re young, not yet tainted by godhood. And just think.” The goddess’ voice sweetened. “You’ll be the goddess of victory. Far greater than even the warrior you’d hoped to be.”
She gripped her bow tighter, recalling the long walks with Camulos. His smile. His kiss. No one had ever been interested in her in such a way. She could finally prove herself as a warrior, but at the expense of Camulos’ life.
But if she had to become a goddess to do so, she’d have to leave her brothers. A pang shot through her chest. She didn’t want to leave them. She wanted to be one of them. More than she wanted to prove herself, even.
“You don’t have a choice in this!” the goddess yelled. “Camulos is dangerous. Eventually he will try to kill you, because he knows that not doing so is against our laws. There will be repercussions for him that he won’t want to face. Take your chance. Save yourself from him and receive godhood in exchange.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me,” Andrasta said, certain of it. But was she? He’d threatened her back in the forest a week ago and raised his bow against her brother when he’d come searching for her. She’d known there was something more than what was on the surface between them, something darker. Had it been this fate? “No. I don’t believe it.”
“Fine.” The goddess’ voice whipped across her skin, harsh as a blade. “Then we’ll slay your family—seven brothers, isn’t it?—if you do not do as we tell you.”
Her stomach dropped. “What?”
“You’ll do this.”
The threat, and the command, snapped some of the strength back into her. She gripped her bow and said, “You want to get rid of Camulos because he’s trouble. Your threats don’t endear you to me. I could be trouble.”
“You can’t play our games.” The goddess’ voice was harsh. She raised her hands and snow swirled, flying fast on the wind until it was dense white in front of her. Images formed on the snow, and soon her brothers appeared. They practiced at their training field, swords and pikes flying through the air.
“What is this?” she asked, shock at the magic stealing her breath.
“Your brothers,” the goddess said. “Look closer and you’ll see Hafgan, the god who stood to my left.”
Andrasta squinted at the image in the snow and saw the towering form of the god standing at the edge of the field, apparently invisible to her brothers. She glanced away from the image toward where Hafgan had been standing.
He was gone.
“He went there?” Andrasta asked, knowing it was true even as she said it.
“Yes. And he’ll kill one of your brothers for every hour you delay.”
“No, he can’t—” Andrasta cried out when she saw Hafgan throw a short spear at Marrek. The blade pierced Marrek’s side and he fell, his blood soaking into the snow. “Stop!”
“When you’ve done what we’ve requested,” the goddess said. “Do it, or he’ll throw another spear.”
Andrasta’s eyes raced over the image in the snow. Bradan fell to Marrek’s side, trying to stanch the bleeding, while the rest of her brothers surrounded them, searching the practice field for the threat.
“They’ll never see him coming,” the goddess said. “You have an hour before he throws the spear again.”
A sob tore free of Andrasta’s throat. “Marrek must live!”
“He will. Perhaps. As long as Hafgan doesn’t throw another spear.”
Andrasta felt the sting of tears freezing on her cheeks as she watched Bradan try to comfort Marrek and keep his life’s blood from flowing out.
“Fine.” The words were ragged. She met the goddess’ eyes. “Promise that they will li