Day 6 of the War
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Ayla met Ashor and Zalyn in the common room before heading to the dining room together for lunch. She felt jittery. Today she’d meet the gods—not just Ninhursag, but all seven of them. She didn’t care how blasé Loran had been about it, she had a right to be anxious.
“How’d it go yesterday?” Zalyn asked Ashor as they passed by the training rooms. His eyes glowed against the warm light, the snow in the arena reflecting into the hallway.
“Ninhursag was happy to see me,” he said. His face fell into Zalyn’s shadow. He didn’t look like he’d been getting much sleep. Deep lines pressed into his forehead and a day’s old stubble coated his lower face. “She wished me luck. Do I look like I need encouragement?”
Ayla rubbed his arm. “No, you don’t. But I’d take some luck from a goddess if I was you.” She let her hand fall back to her side. “Doesn’t hurt anything, right?”
Ashor sighed, wilting like a tree branch under heavy snow. “No, it doesn’t.”
Zalyn stretched, weaving his hands together at the back of his neck. His red fur cape glistened in the sun. “Did they ask you anything?”
Ashor shrugged with tight shoulders. “Not really. Asked me what I thought the outcome would be. That’s about it.” The line sounded rehearsed and she could guess Loran probably fed it to him.
“What’d you say?” Zalyn asked. He opened the door to the northern quarter, holding it for her and Ashor as they walked through. He fell to Ayla’s side in two long steps.
“You,” —he rolled his eyes as Zalyn smirked— “Ayla, and one of the therians, probably.”
Zalyn scoffed. “If they’re lucky, maybe.” Such a typical mageian thing to say.
Loran entered the dining room ahead of them wearing a black fur robe. Ashor stiffened next to her and looked at his feet. Inside, they took their usual seat at the end of the table. Ohorshina sat at the front of the room with a warm smile on her face. Loran didn’t look at her once while the servants delivered lunch.
“Which one of them do you think’ll make it?” Zalyn asked in a low whisper across her body to Ashor.
“Who knows,” he said, his tone leaving no room for further conversation. He loaded his plate with food and ate, staring down at his plate as if lost in thought.
Zalyn turned to her instead. “What do you think?” He placed a flatbread on her plate and then served himself.
She picked at it, putting a piece in her mouth and chewing before she answered. “I’ve heard the tall, thin girl is a bit of a push-over. The big one with the silver eyes seems like a show-off. I’d say one of the quiet ones are probably who we have to worry about.”
He nodded, eyeing the therians. “The boy with the green eyes sitting in the middle. He seems like he could be fun.”
She didn’t need to look to know who he was referring to. Ashor paused between bites, glancing at them with a pale face. She’d have to be careful what she said.
“He seems like he’d be quick to underestimate someone like me or Ashor,” she said, hoping it’d give him some confidence. “He’d make an obvious mistake or try to play around. Kind of like you.” She looked at Zalyn.
“I don’t do that.”
Ashor smiled at her side. “You do. When we first met, you thought I’d be easy.” He laughed gently, dimples pressing into his cheeks for the first time since they arrived in Dilmun six days ago. “Didn’t work so well for you, did it?”
Zalyn scrunched his mouth into a pucker, dipping his falafel in cheese before eating it whole. “Guess not,” he said, his mouth full. “Didn’t underestimate you again, though. Did I?”
Ashor sneered. “Unfortunately.”
Zalyn chuckled, wrapping chopped fruits and vegetables into his flatbread. “You’re not worried about your fight, are you?” He glanced at Ashor mid-bite, light brown eyebrows raised into his tan forehead.
Ashor shrank. “Maybe.”
Zalyn set his elbow on the table, leaning across Ayla’s body. “Ashor, you’re easily one of the best sitting at this table. Sabro and Nemrud might as well be human. Sabri and Yabil will only win because they’ll be able to team up together to beat one single therian. You can pull it off.” Zalyn leaned away, taking a big bite. “You’ve beaten me.”
“As if you’re the golden standard,” Ashor grumbled.
“If you’re feeling pressured by Banipal and Sanhareb, just ignore them,” Ayla said. She tried to gather more food onto her plate in the most casual way she could imagine. She didn’t want him to realize she was trying to console him because she was scared for him. “Just go out there for you.”
He released a grizzly sigh. “I know. You’re right. I need to get over it.”
Ayla smiled and patted his back. “I’m always right.” She caught his playful eye-roll.
“Those two have been so annoying.” Zalyn refilled Ayla’s plate with apple slices and took another bite of his flatbread. He chewed and swallowed before continuing, “They leave letters under my doors.”
Ayla snapped off a bite of her apple with her teeth. Her tongue recoiled at the tartness of each chew. Loran ate in silence across the room, the rest of the therians joking and laughing together beside him. His gaze lifted to hers and a playful smile lifted onto his lips for a moment.
“Me, too. I toss mine out of the window.” Ashor leaned his elbows on the table, slouching forward over his plate. “I’ve got to say, the intimidation doesn’t work when I remember taking baths with them when we were nine.”
Loran glanced to the back of the therian sitting next to him and then rolled his eyes. Ayla smiled, eating the other half of her apple slice.
Zalyn grinned and let out a chortle. “Those were fun.” He glanced at Ayla. “Too bad you weren’t there. I would’ve washed your back for you.”
Ayla swallowed her apple too soon and coughed. “E-excuse me?” She pictured some room in the temple with a sunken floor filled with water and a bunch of naked kids splashing around, making a mess. It was bad enough knowing she used to bathe with Loran, let alone nine other little brats.
Ashor scoffed. “Washed her back? That’s a new line.”
“Maybe it’s not a line,” Zalyn said. He stole a strawberry from her plate, his red eyes staring into hers as if issuing a challenge.
“Then what is it?” she asked.
He paused as he chewed. Then his eyes slipped away. She stared at his profile, watching the muscle in his cheek as he continued to chew. Light whiskers lined his strong jawbone and curved along his upper lip. His bottom lip puckered out like a soft ledge. A bump laid over the curve of his straight nose.
Her stomach somersaulted, as if anticipating some kind of serious answer. She ignored it, looking away from her training partner and eating another apple slice as the servants returned to clear the tables and set out the tea and coffee.
“I can’t deny that you’d look good naked,” Zalyn said, pouring himself coffee. He shook some sugar into his cup with a spoon and then stirred it a metal stick.
She rolled her eyes. Some serious answer. “What a compliment.”
“But I think I like your freckles the most.” He tapped the stick on her nose with a smirk, a dimple in one of his cheeks. “Then maybe your lips.”
She scrunched her nose and wiped it with her sleeve. She ignored the heat attacking her face and chalked it up to embarrassment. “The best part about you is probably that big hulking body of yours.”
He leaned closer to her. “You like my body?”
“It’s a great punching bag.”
Ashor broke out into a quiet laughter, slapping his hand over his mouth.
Zalyn’s face fell. “Very funny, Ayla.”
Ohorshina tapped at her class with a spoon. Everyone turned their heads at the soft ringing to her peaceful face, a black braided bun sitting at the crown of her head. Ashor calmed himself with a few deep breaths. He placed a hand on her knee as if trying to steady himself.
The priestess smiled, her face ageless like a doll. “I hope today’s lunch was as good as the last. As always, you may leave at your own leisure when you are finished with your drinks.” Her chocolate color eyes surveyed the room, stopping on one of the older boys sitting at the therian table.
His thin, dark brown hair fell past his broad shoulders. Thick stubble layered the lower half of his face, framing pink lips from the cold. He grinned to one of the therians sitting next to him as if bragging about getting Ohorshina’s attention.
“Nanna has requested his competitors today,” the priestess said, her small lips softening from their earlier smile. “He expects Fero Serharti to arrive in the northern quarter at high sun. Diyalam Thoma, you will be next.” The goddess’s eyes rolled over to Diyalam before she made eye contact with Ayla. “Ayla Elias, you will be last.”
Loran smiled at her with his head in his hand, leaning over the table. Ashor squeezed her knee and then pulled his hand away.
“He looks forward to meeting you all.” Small wrinkles bunched at the corner of her eyes as she smiled again. “Be prepared to answer questions, and the gods encourage you to bring some of your own. I will remain here until you have all left, if you have any questions. Please join me again for lunch tomorrow.”
Zalyn sided up next to her. “Have any questions in mind?” he asked, pouring her a cup of coffee as well.
She could’ve rolled her eyes. The only thing keeping her fed the last week had been Zalyn’s tendency to stock her plate—but she wondered when he’d grow tired of it. She certainly was. As he reached for the sugar, she stole the small spoon from his thick fingers and sprinkled it in herself.
“Not really.” She shrugged, stirring the coffee. “A part of me wants to ask Nanna why he created me, but I don’t think he’d answer.”
“What makes you think that?” Ashor asked. He took the sugar spoon after her, dusting his tea with a few shakes.
She licked the foam from the top of her cup and stared at her reflection in the dark liquid. The shadow under her cheekbones had never looked so hollow. Her eyes looked tired and her curls looked more like a nest than hair. Zalyn liked this?
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Ayla reached back and tied her hair into a bun. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I feel like they’d think it was a stupid question or something.”
Zalyn lifted his hand and tugged out the bun. “I like your hair better down.” He took a long curl from her back into his palm and kissed it, his eyes staring into hers. “Did you suddenly get self-conscious about your looks?”
Words failed her. “I— I just…” A fire ran across her skin and her stomach fluttered. She couldn’t even force herself to deny it. Her magic escaped from her like steam from water.
“You’re gorgeous, Ayla,” Zalyn said.
Oh, gods… She flashed a smile—if it could even be called that—and slipped away from him. “Thanks for your concern.” She stood on shaky legs—did she really just thank him for his concern? What an idiot. “I think I’m going to head back to my room…”
“Another nap?” Zalyn asked, smiling.
He knew he’d just flustered her. Even worse!
“Yes. Exactly.”
She made sure to avoid Loran’s gaze as she hurried out, hoping he wouldn’t follow her out to ask her what just happened. There’d be no way she could tell him without turning him into concerned older brother again.
Ayla berated herself all the way to her room. She tried napping, but sleep wouldn’t come. Not that she expected it to. Instead, the time she spent staring at the ceiling led her to decide she had experienced a perfectly normal reaction. Zalyn—even if she wanted to deny it—was good looking. Why wouldn’t she get flustered?
It didn’t matter what he thought of her looks. She couldn’t change them, anyway.
She left a little early, figuring she’d run into someone along the way. Ayla walked along the training rooms toward the northern quarter with a jump in her step. The far door opened to an entryway with identical luminous floors and ice pillars as the southern quarter, but a grand staircase rested in the middle of the open space like a mountain slope. Doors lined the back wall, the room a half-circle looking out into the arena.
She climbed the stairs and spotted Diyalam’s white fur wrap and her brown hair swaying around her round face in waves. Her sun-kissed face looked tense, almost angry, until she noticed Ayla approaching her. The girl waved as they joined each other in the hallway.
“Hello, Ayla,” she said, a subtle smile on her lips. “Have you been doing well? You look tired.”
Ayla could’ve winced. “I’ve been doing well.” She folded her arms over her chest and gave a lazy shrug. “I’ll catch up on sleep later. I didn’t think I looked that bad.”
Diyalam giggled, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. “You don’t. Sorry if that was rude of me. You’re just a little blue and swollen under your eyes.” She lifted a finger and traced the skin under Ayla’s right eye. “Right along here.” She smiled, lowering her hand.
Ayla forced herself to return the expression. “Maybe I’m more stressed than I thought.”
Diyalam’s smile melted. “Stressed?” Her concerned frown gave her lips a downward turn. “Because of the War? Don’t be. It’ll be me and you in the arena the first time. If we work together, we can definitely kill the therian.”
Ayla clenched her teeth at that word. Kill. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure we will work well together. As long as we don’t try to kill each other.”
Diyalam’s breathy laugh send shivers along Ayla’s back. She wasn’t trying to be funny.
“Yes,” the girl said. “I promise I won’t do that as long as you promise as well.” She held out her arm, pulling up her sleeve. The scar on her arm formed into a square with four limbs stretching out from each corner. “Deal?”
Ayla reached out, wrapping her fingers around the girl’s forearm. She didn’t want to seem hesitant, but she felt strange about taking her offer. Diyalam shook Ayla’s arm with a smile on her face.
Ayla hoped the girl kept her promise. “Deal.”
“Good.” Diyalam slipped her arm away, her charcoal velvet sleeve sliding down her arm. “Would you like an escort?” She giggled, bouncing to Ayla’s side and hooking their elbows together. “Are you ready to meet the gods?”
“Hopefully.” She gave a quick smile as Diyalam pulled her down the hall with a giggle. “How’d yours go? Ashor said his was pretty short.”
“They talked to me for quite awhile. I had a lot of questions.” Diyalam looked away, her face relaxed. “Thankfully, they took the time to answer them all.” She paused, her head snapping toward Ayla with wide eyes and arching eyebrows. “Do you have any questions you’re going to ask?”
Ayla gave a gentle laugh at the girl’s expression. “I hadn’t thought of anything, no. Any suggestions?”
“Why don’t you ask them about your father?” she proposed, pulling Ayla closer as they approached the large double doors at the end of the hallway. “I asked them if my brother had come with any questions. Perhaps you could ask as well.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t want to end up talking about her father the whole time. They might end up asking her about his deal with Ereskhigal—and then about her own deal with the goddess. Neither topic seemed too appealing.
Diyalam stopped with her in front of the doors. “I will leave you here. Have a good time, Ayla.” She removed her elbow and grabbed both of Ayla’s hands. “And, please, get some rest.”
Ayla felt her magic peel away from her skin at the girl’s concern. “Thank you, I will. I’ll see you later.”
“Yes. Goodbye!” Diyalam shifted away, waving her hand from side-to-side while she headed toward the stairs again. Her youthful laugh filled the hall.
Ayla pushed the doors open with quivering hands, stepping into the large room with a slow and hesitant step. They creaked in unison to reveal a curving hallway flooded with a crisp blue light from the evening sun.
Ohorshina smiled from a few feet away with pink lips. “Welcome to the northern quarter, Ayla Elias,” she said. The soft glow of the sun hit the smooth planes of her face, casting a small shadow over her cheek from her level nose. She held out a hand and said, “Allow me to escort you.”
Ayla walked to her and Ohorshina wrapped an elegant arm around her shoulders. She led her down a winding hall, the entire expanse of the outer wall a sheet of glass with a panoramic view of the three other quarters and the stadium below.
They approached seven tall, wooden chairs placed in a semi-circle, each seat twice the height of a normal human. Ninhursag smiled at her from the left-most chair wearing a light purple robe with a crown of pine rest on top of her curls.
Ohorshina guided her in front of the seven chairs. “I present Ayla Elias, third competitor for Nanna and daughter of Afrem Elias, the 27th winner.” She bowed before leaving Ayla alone in front of the gods’ scrutinizing gazes.
“Hello, Ayla,” Ninhursag said. “Allow us to introduce ourselves to you.”
She couldn’t really object although she could tell who each of them were by appearance alone. She swallowed as the goddess across from Ninhursag in the right-most chair smiled, her doll-like features identical to Ereshkigal. Ayla fisted her silvery fur cape.
The goddess’s copper eyes burned into Ayla as she said, “I am Inanna.” Her fingers scratched behind the ear of a purring lion cub on her lap. “I believe you have met my siblings, Ishkur and Ereshkigal. I know Ereshkigal wasn’t pleasant, but I hope Ishkur had the manners to at least be civil with you.”
Ayla wasn’t sure if she should admit either. Her excitement transformed into nervous jitters, a churning in her stomach.
The goddess giggled, her light blue robes rippling as she crossed a leg over the other. Her copper jewelry jingled. “You don’t have to be shy. I won’t eat you or anything.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ayla said, sliding her back foot and dipping at her knee, bowing her head down as a formal gesture of respect and reverence. “Ishkur was nice. I can’t say the same for Ereshkigal.”
Inanna laughed, the sound a dulcet melody. “Such honesty. I like it.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ayla,” her brother said next to her. He wore only a long, light purple skirt, his tanned chest glistening like his golden eyes. “I am Shamash. We have heard a lot about you these last few days.”
She recalled Ashor saying he’d named her as one of those in the final battle. “I hope it was good,” she said, trying to smile against her nerves. “Or at least truthful.”
“Good, perhaps,” a god with azure eyes said, his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin resting in his palm. He looked bored beyond words, his tone drier than Naramsin or her uncle. “Truthful, unlikely.”
“Do not speak out of turn, Enki,” a clear voice rang in her ears. A cream-colored horned cap at the top of the back of the chair dipped down. A vague body, as if shaped from a cloud, sat under the hat. “I am Enlil.” His hair flowed like curls of wind against his angular face. His eyebrows rested on the inner curve of his eyelids, framing his heavy eyelashes and his white eyes.
Enki rolled his eyes away like a misbehaved child. “I appreciate the lecture, as always.”
In the center chair, the eldest god chuckled, the rhythm sturdy like falling rocks. Wrinkles stretched over his tan forehead. A mustache grew over his lips. His eyes squinted as he smiled, his black gem eyes half-hidden under his lashes. “I am Anu,” he said, voice powerful and aged. “You’ll have to excuse Enki. His attention span has only decreased over the years.”
“I can’t help it if I’m bored,” he said. Even while complaining, his smooth voice flowed like a calm river. Slow water moved across his skin. His thin eyebrows opened to honest almond-shaped eyes. Stubble framed his rounded, strong jaw and his smirking lips.
“I’m sorry my creations bore you, Enki,” the man to his right said, his tone level yet biting. His silver eyes slid to her, pinning her on the spot. “I am Nanna.”
“It’s—it’s nice to meet you,” she said, sounding hoarse. Ayla dipped into another bow, a physical reaction she did without thinking.
When she looked up, his eyes glittered in amusement, a light smirk pulled at his full lips. One of his thick eyebrows quirked above his eyes into his smooth forehead. A dash of stubble coated his lower face, running along the bow-shape of his upper lip and the curve of his jaw.
“I’m sure it is,” he said. He placed a foot on his knee, his brown, draped robes swaying with the movement. A lapis lazuli necklace hung around his neck like a beard, covering his broad chest.
“So, do you have any questions for us, Ayla?” Ninhursag asked.
Ayla’s tongue felt like it’d been tied into a knot. She swallowed and licked the inside of her lips. “How about you go first?” Then maybe she could have time to come up with something good to ask—that would be safe.
Enki’s smirk grew. “That’s new.” He perked up in his chair, his light blue robes shifting around his body. “Do you have any questions or do you just want to ask us after we’ve interrogated you?”
Her blood rushed to her face. “I don’t want to ask any stupid questions,” she said, wishing she could sit down. “Don’t want to waste your time…”
Nanna smiled. “Your fellow competitors didn’t seem to mind.”
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes to make sure she didn’t start fumbling over her words in front of the god who’d created her. “I can’t help that. Sorry.”
“How’s your father?” Anu asked.
“My dad?” she asked. Out of all of the questions they could’ve asked, they’d have to jump straight to the one she wanted to talk about with them the least. Ayla looked to her boots, then to the icy floor. She sat, crossing her legs on top of her cape and wrapping her arms around her waist.
“I—I’m not sure,” she finally answered. “I haven’t seen him… in the last six days.”
“She sat on the floor,” Enki said, wearing a smirk still. “She’s kind of interesting.” He turned to Nanna. “You could’ve skipped the other two.”
“You know that isn’t an option,” Enlil said. “Don’t annoy me with your inanity for once.”
Enki grunted, rolling his eyes again.
“Is it inappropriate for me to sit on the floor?” Ayla asked.
“Of course not,” Ninhursag answered, a soft smile on her face. “You’re allowed to make yourself comfortable.”
“What’d Ereshkigal tell you, anyway?” Enki continued, lifting his head from his hand and switching to the other one. “Merely curious.”
She wished she could hide her face or something. “I—Nothing, really.” Ayla tightened her arms around her waist, rocking back and forth. “Just that my dad’s deal would expire soon.”
“How soon?” he pressed. “Did she even mention it?”
“N-no…” She squeezed her eyes together, trying to recall Ereshkigal’s exact words. “She only said his time was over.”
Enki forced his smirk into a pout for a moment. “A shame.”
“Why?” she asked, feeling a frown grow into the space between her eyebrows. Her stomach lurched up her throat. What did he mean by that? How was it a shame?
His face broke out in a grin. “No reason in particular.”
That sounded very much like a lie and it didn’t even seem like he was trying to hide it. Ayla brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“What about your deal?” Inanna asked.
She should’ve known there wouldn’t be a way to skirt around that one—especially in front of seven inquiring gods. Ayla looked to her shoes and started to pick at the fur.
“What about it?” she asked.
“I believe you wanted us to ask the questions first,” Enlil said. His clear voice seemed to be coming from her head, not sitting in a chair ten paces away.
She wanted to swear.
“She’s just trying to get out of answering it,” Enki said, the rhythm to his voice playful. “It’s kind of endearing. Better than an outright lie, I guess.”
“Why’d my dad have to die?” she asked, frowning at them. “You’re gods. If you know all about everything I’ve done with my life up until this point, why couldn’t you have done something to help him?”
“He chose to live in Ekarkara,” Enlil said. “He would’ve had protection in Esagila.”
“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t help him because he wasn’t in Esagila?”
Ninhursag shifted in her seat and Enki leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Nanna’s gaze moved away from her.
“What did my dad ask when he stood here in front of you?” she asked. She lowered her legs and leaned forward on her hands.
“He asked three things,” Nanna answered. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the brown robe covering his knees. “First, he wanted to know if he must kill in order to win. Second, he asked what happened to those who were not killed in the arena. Third, he wanted to know if you would be safe if he died.”
She balled her hands into fists. “What did you answer?”
“You must not kill to win,” Ninhursag answered. Her gaze looked sad. Her green eyes looked like they belonged to a dying tree. “There isn’t a difference between losing and dying—the outcome is the same.”
“And we couldn’t answer his last question,” Anu said.
Ayla’s eyes stung. She pressed her forehead into her knees as she sucked in a shaking breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her knees closer, then she released her breath through her teeth and tipped her head back. A cold tear ran down her face, down her neck.
She had to find her father.
“I have one last question for you and then you may leave,” Inanna said. The cub purred from her lap. “What are your plans if you win?”
“I…” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. She sniffed and brought up her hand, wiping her nose on the back of it as she gazed up to them. She stood, rubbing her palms against her wet cheeks. “I have none.”
“It was nice meeting you, Ayla,” Nanna said, voice calm even as she sputtered for breath. His smooth features remained unchanged like the face of the Moon. “I hope I will see you again. Good luck.”
“I don’t need your luck,” she said through gritted teeth, her body trembling. “Have fun watching us all die up here. Probably great entertainment.”
She caught Enki’s chiseled frown before marching away, trying to wipe her face clear of her tears before they froze.