To Brittle’s delight, Edvin stayed for the rest of the afternoon. In that time the god helped himself to two toast and loam sandwiches–one of which he swiped from Mara’s untouched plate–mistook Gilly for a pet, wrangled the indignant lizard into his lap, and somehow managed to walk away with all ten fingers and toes. Brittle couldn’t remember having ever laughed so hard in his life. Even down in the mouth Mara wasn’t immune to Edvin’s charms. Sometimes, when she didn’t think anyone was looking, Brittle would catch a hint of a smile on her lips.
Brittle was sad when it was time for the god to leave. Edvin must have felt similarly because, even after listing every responsibility waiting for him back home, he hung around a little longer. Having said his farewells for the umpteenth time, he couldn’t help but try his luck once more. With a wave of his fingers, the cylindrical container materialized into Edvin’s outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can’t put you down for at least one canister, Mara?”
The softness slipped from the goddess’s face. She had no need for words, able to communicate her response with a single look. It was remarkably effective. So much so, even Brittle flinched and he wasn’t the intended recipient.
“I know, I know. You don’t get involved in my schemes.” Edvin’s broad shoulders slumped as he averted his sheepish gaze to the floor. “It’s just, it’s been a tight few months and I have a whole dining room of product waiting to be moved and…”
“Then learn to ask for help the right way.” On some unseen cue from Mara, one of the ceramic boxes on the cluttered bookshelf near the door opened. A set of glimmering earrings rose up out of the box and moved across the room, hovering just above Edvin’s hand.
He closed his fist around the earrings, eyes widening in disbelief. “These were your mom’s.”
“The money you get for them should see you through two months. So if I find you on my doorstep before then, it’d better be to make me tea.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Mara. I’ll pay you back, I swear.”
Mara’s fingers traced a stray moth hole in the odd-white tablecloth. “How bad is it, Edvin?”
“Eh, I won’t be underwater much longer. Just need a little extra time, you know? An image rebranding doesn’t happen overnight.”
“Have you tried asking your father for help?”
Brittle swore the entire room darkened to match Edvin’s expression. “And have all of my success attributed to him, again? Like everything else in my life? No thanks.”
“He would be willing to help his son.”
“Yeah, with conditions. He’s the God of Champions, Mara. My very existence is a blight on his otherwise spotless record. Do you know how long he’s been hounding me to join his war against mankind? If I go ask him for help, he’s going to demand I enlist in his stupid, petty dispute with the humans. I’m a self-made god. I can’t work for anyone else. Especially not him.”
Mara paused, thoughtfully, before wondering aloud, “Can you really call yourself self-made if you were born a god?”
Edvin rolled his head back. “And there she goes. Bringing deity-born-privilege into every conversation. It’s not like I had a choice, you know. You may have been born human, but at least you got to choose this life. I had God of Ill-Gotten Gains thrust upon me at birth.”
Brittle turned his head in Mara’s direction. “You weren’t born a goddess?”
“Oh, you didn’t know, little log? No surprise there, I suppose. Your Great Maker doesn’t like mortals to know she traded her soul for the privilege of immortality.”
The front door flew open so fast it nearly ripped free of its hinges. “Out!” Mara shouted.
Edvin’s gazed moved from Mara to the open doorway and back again, appearing entirely unimpressed. “Why would I walk when I could just portal?”
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Mara’s fingertips were dug so deep into the table, her nails were scouring trenches in the wood. “Because if you open a portal anywhere near me right now, it’s going to jettison you out amongst the stars.”
Edvin took a breath and sighed. “Look, I got heated when you mentioned Dad. I’m sorry–”
“Good. Go.”
Edvin wanted to say more. He bit his lower lip as the fire dancing in his bright blue eyes shifted to something just shy of pitiful. With a final, sad shake of his head, the god turned and started for the open doorway. He reached out to one of the bookshelves as he passed, intending to drop the earrings amongst the haphazardly arranged trinkets.
“They’re a gift, Edvin. Take them. If not for you, then for my peace of mind, at least.” Mara noticed Brittle’s confusion. She sank lower in the chair, nearly dipping beneath the table itself in a misguided effort to avoid having to explain herself whilst looking him in the eye. “I can help someone and still be mad at them, Brittle. Believe me, it’s a dance blockhead and I are well familiar with.”
“Mara,” Edvin called from the doorway.
“I told you to leave.”
“I am. It’s just–”
“Nope. No more talking. I’m already in enough of a sour mood, thank you. Brittle doesn’t need to see what happens when I get truly angry.”
“I get that, I do. Commendable,” Edvin said. “I was just wondering if you wanted me to tell this haggard looking bloke on your doorstep here that you aren’t accepting visitors.”
The perpetual wrinkle between Mara’s eyebrows doubled in size. She sat straighter in the chair. “What?”
“I get the feeling he’s not going to take no for an answer. Got a real wild look in his eye, this one.” Edvin glanced over his shoulder at Mara, asking, “You want me to deal with him for you?”
“Let me guess, he’s wearing armor?”
“Yep.”
“Disheveled, dirty, looks like he has nothing to lose?”
“You forgot the sword. It’s a real big one.”
“Of course he has a sword,” Mara muttered as she stood and swept across the room. Her luxurious fuzzy yellow robe billowed majestically in her wake. “Go home, Edvin. I’ll take care of it.”
“Aw man, and miss seeing you turn him into a toad? That’s my favorite part.”
“Go!”
Edvin dutifully disappeared down the steps with a grumble. With the giant-sized god no longer taking up the entire entryway, a familiar figure met Mara at the door. Sir Thomassin was missing his helm. His face was smeared in dirt and blood, with his sweat-soaked curls plastered against his forehead. Everything about him was different than the day before. His armor was badly battered, barely holding together at the buckles. He stood stooped, with knees bent and arms trembling.
“You.” Was the only word he was able to get out between laborious gasps for air.
Even from a distance, Brittle could see the untempered madness gleaming in the man’s gray eyes. Brittle clambered down from his chair and scurried closer. Gilly followed out from under the table, placing her scaled body between Brittle and the doorway just in case.
“You,” Sir Thomassin said again. “What did you do to me?”
“You mean other than sparing your life?” Mara crossed her arms challengingly. “Or perhaps you’re referring to how I single-handedly dragged your heavy, iron butt free of my cave and put you somewhere safe for the night? Allowing you to wake up both alive and unharmed in the morning?”
The heavy sword dropped from Sir Thomassin’s grasp and clattered noisily onto the floor. His hand trembled as he edged one desperate step inside. “My pure heart.” Sir Thomassin’s bloodshot eyes were rimmed in white. Like his hands, his voice wavered beyond his control. “You thief. You took it!”
“She did not!” Brittle extracted himself from behind the couch and stomped closer. It was bad enough the knight had come barging into the Great Maker’s home uninvited for a second time, but throwing around baseless accusations had truly crossed the line. “My goddess didn’t take anything from you.”
“His pride, maybe,” Mara said with a shrug.
“She did,” Sir Thomassin insisted. “I know because I just had the worst morning of my life! I got dragged underwater by an angry water serpent, fell off a rope bridge, had to claw my way back out hand over fist, just to be mauled by a pack of bloodthirsty saber-toothed gophers!”
“Marmots,” Brittle corrected.
“My pure heart is what protected me from her powers before. And now it’s gone and the only explanation is that she stole it!”
“Why would she do that?” Brittle demanded.
“Because only those pure of heart can kill a god or goddess. She took it to protect herself.”
Even if the mad knight’s unhinged ramblings were true, Brittle didn’t see the unfairness in it. The Great Maker had every right to protect herself.
Mara’s calculating gaze moved from Sir Thomassin to Brittle. “Be a dear and put the tea on for me, will you? I have a feeling he’s going to be here awhile.”